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charliemwrites · 2 months

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Oooooh I finally did it!! Mafia au part 6! A little bit of that sweet angst/comfort.

Content: Violence, Previous Injury (mentioned), Panic Attack (non-descriptive)

Let it be said: Johnny’s no snitch.

Outgoing (“loud” Simon would grumble) as he is, he doesn’t run his mouth about anything important. Doesn’t talk business over a pint or boast his connections in bar disagreements. Doesn’t drop names, flash heat, throw around the weight of his employer. Has never spilled a single fucking secret, not for knives, acid, a fucking gun to his head.

Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.

Let it also be said: Johnny is loyal.

He would happily lay down his life for any of his comrades, lives and dies for SpecGru – for Price. And even though you’re new, you’re one of them now. You’ve quickly found and secured your place in Price’s inner circle, different as you may be. Johnny would go to war for you, and your silly pink sticky notes.

Still, keeping something – anything from the boss. Even a private matter like this…

It happened on SpecGru property, that makes it SpecGru business. And it happened to you, which makes it Price’s business.

That you don’t already know that is… well, that’s between you and the boss. Johnny’s already too involved as it is. (Not that he regrets helping you. Not a bit. If he had his way, that little prick would have left with his teeth in his pocket and a new appreciation for his remaining thumb).

So now Johnny is stuck. He likes you; he really does. That you trust him with something so personal isn’t lost on him, especially in this line of work. He also has a healthy fear of your wrath. (You may not carry any weapons he’s seen, but you’ve got Price grimacing when you narrow your eyes just so. Johnny knows where his cupcakes are made, and he likes them without arsenic, thank you). So, personally, he wants to be able to honor your request to keep the matter private.

But then there’s Price, and whatever he’ll do to Johnny if – when – he finds out about all this.

Johnny’s solution?

“Christ, Gaz, ya shoulda seen it. Never seen the little miss tell someone off like that. Graves woulda been shakin’ in his boots. Will have to ask security for a recording of it.”

Gaz, unimpressed with Johnny’s volume, rolls his eyes and walks away, muttering about tea for his sudden headache. And Price, sitting at his desk, twitches and reaches for his phone.

Mission: accomplished.

Not the most elegant, but he’s a mafia lieutenant, not a fuckin’ spy. Now, to get those pastries you like before Price sees the footage.

“Luv?”

You glance up from the expense reports you’ve been working through for the better part of an hour. Mr. Price is leaning in the doorway to his office, shoulder to the jamb. There’s… an odd look on his face. You’ve never seen it before, don’t have it categorized in your mental files.

“Yes, boss?” you ask, straightening up.

“A word?”

You blink. That’s… different. You don’t like it.

Price is a steady sort of man. Not predictable, but consistent. That this is new, unusual, unfamiliar, makes you uneasy. Reminds you of your last boss, who could call you into his office with an affable grin, only to spend thirty minutes berating you for anything and everything he could think of.

Price has never done that, nothing even close… but you can’t suppress the slight shake in your hands as you smooth your skirt down. Hide it with a little flick of your wrists before grabbing for your ever-trusty tablet. Hell, you probably don’t even need it, but at this point it’s practically a comfort item. Maybe you should name it, put some googly eyes on it.

“Sweetheart?”

You startle a bit. Realize your feet have already carried you into his office and followed him right to his desk. Except instead of standing at his elbow as usual, you’re facing him across his desk. Like you did during your interview with him, when you were still strangers. Like you used to do for your previous boss.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” you chirp, forcing your usual brightness, “those expense reports, ya know? What did you need me for?”

Without a word, he spins his computer monitor around. Your brow furrows as you process the video playing on the screen. You. Soap. Brandon. Your stomach sinks.

There’s no sound, but there doesn’t really need to be. Even in profile, the expressions are crisp – high end cameras. You feel numb as the scene plays out all over again. You and Brandon snipping at each other back and forth. Your rigid spine, stiff shoulders. Brandon’s sleezy confidence. Soap, getting visibly aggravated as the seconds pass.

And there it is, the moment you spun on your heel, done with the conversation, and Brandon reached for you.

When you see Soap’s hand snap out – just a blur on the screen – you have to sit. Muscle memory collects your tablet in your lap, sweaty hands stacking neatly on top of it. Your heart is beating either too fast or too slow.

Your eyes stay locked on the screen until you and Soap disappear into the elevator, and the video stops.

“Should I play the elevator footage as well?” Price asks, voice low and quiet. “That comes with sound.”

It takes all your years of learned discipline and cultivated poise to resist shrinking in on yourself. It does not, however, stop your eyes from burning.

“Sir,” you say, struggling to keep your voice even, “I am so sorry.”

There’s a beat of tense silence as you gather yourself, throat getting tighter and tighter. Your head is spinning with fear and anxiety. What he’ll say, what he’ll do. How you could possibly damage control this.

“I-I don’t even know how he found out where I work,” you say, “and Soap w-was just trying to help. If I’d known that would happen, I would have taken it outside.”

You can barely look at Price as your voice break midway through, the panic leaking into your tone even as you stay frozen in place.

“Did we – is he suing? Is – is that why—?”

The tears escape despite your efforts, dripping fast and down your cheeks as you shudder in a breath. You can’t pay for a lawsuit, especially not if you’re fired over this. And you don’t want to lose this job. You love this job, you love—

“Oh, darling, what a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

You sniffle as Price rounds his desk and kneels in front of you, plucking his handkerchief from his breast pocket. He tuts at you when you open your mouth to protest, already blotting at your cheeks with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“There now, no need to cry,” he soothes, thumbing away another tear before it can fall. “I know it takes you ages to get your eyeliner right. This is nothing to ruin it over.”

“But…”

“I’m not angry, luv,” he continues, voice still low and quiet. This time, it doesn’t make your shoulders tense. “Wasn’t before and definitely not now. Chin up, there’s a dear.”

“Y-you’re not?” you warble.

“Not a bit,” he answers. “Not at you, at least.”

“Then why…?” You gesture weakly at the computer screen.

He sighs, something almost fond passing over his face. “Darling, you could have been hurt. Imagine if Soap hadn’t been there. All of us on the top floor, waiting for you to get back, not knowing something was wrong.”

He shakes his head, cradling your cheek with the same hand that brushed away your tears.

“You’re one of mine, you understand? Anything that happens to you is my responsibility,” he explains. “And I didn’t… enjoy that you want to keep something like this from me.”

You drop your eyes in shame. Of course. An employee assaulted on company ground, his personal assistant no less. Price would never stand for that sort of thing. He looks out for his own, looks out for you.

“Hey, look at me, luv. None of that now,” he coaxes. “I just want to get to the bottom of why you didn’t want to tell me.”

It occurs to you that that tone you heard earlier might have just been genuine worry and maybe… a bit of hurt. You twist your hands in your lap as you gather your words.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t because of you,” you murmur. “I just… was so embarrassed. And I didn’t want to make it your problem. I’m supposed to make your life easier, not harder.”

He huffs, but you’re relieved to see wry amusement on his face now.

“No more of that,” he orders, as softly as he when he wiped your face. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s a love.” He gently pinches your cheek, then stands. “Stay here, I’ll get you a cup of water. Take a moment, yeah?”

You nod, sniffling again. He squeezes your shoulder as he passes, and you finally let yourself breathe. Not getting fired, not getting sued. And Price isn’t mad at you. Christ, he needs to work on his approach.

“Kyle.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Look into that knob from the lobby. And the little miss’s last boss.”

“You’ve got it.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia boss price #assistant!reader #assistant reader #john soap mactavish

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bigfatbreak · 10 months

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more mlp au dumps

3 am palette cleanser. tis the season

additional fun for my dorky ass twibra au... twilight's friends mimic the elements of harmony in a way that reflects the magic of their pony selves (bc I said so lmao) and it's what brings her back from the brink after principal cinch grenade tosses her little magical collector in her face and blasts her with equestrian magic

details:

Chrysalis represents generosity specifically because of how she's selfish on behalf of her friends. she's absolutely willing to dupe other people and manipulate them if she thinks it'll help out anyone in the squad, even if the fallout could be cataclysmic. This has led to a really bad reputation following her around, and though its not really unprecedented, her friends still keep her around as she means well. It's a bit hard training her out of fawning over other people to try and make them stay, but she just wants everyone well-fed and happy.

Stygian has the loyalty blessing because he's the real ride or die. He would rather physically staple himself to his friends than possibly lose them, especially since he was subject to losing a friend group in the past which left him deserted at a really bad time. Meeting Tempest around that time was the only thing that kept him going, and now he's fiercely protective of his new friend group.

Spike is laughter because I love him. puppy power

Tempest gets honesty because she's extremely blunt, even though sometimes its to the point of insulting, she genuinely just wants communication to be established at any cost. Her straightforward attitude is very effective at stopping Chryssie's schemes and keeping Stygian grounded, and she doesn't mind being an anchor for the team, especially since she used to be team captain on her volleyball team before she lost her arm. The sense of "these people need me" helps anchor her as much as it anchors them.

Sombra can be exceedingly kind, showering people in gifts and lavish trips, assisting them in whatever programs they're in, and he's more than willing to put the effort in and sacrifice things of his own if it means his friends will benefit from it - but it stops there. His kindness is wonderful only to those in his close circle, and most importantly, to Twilight.

though their dynamic sometimes isn't the healthiest, they're all recovering from friendship issues of their own - some done to them, some because of what THEY did to others - and Twilight's the precious sun they seem to rotate around, as being a shut-in only focusing on her studies has given her zero inclination to have any sort of preconceived notions of other people. For friends with a bad past they're trying to work through, its incredibly refreshing, and they would rather die than lose her.

even more additional details:

Sombra collects pretty minerals, and wears a lot of jewelry as a result. He often compares Twilight to precious stones and seems smug about dating her.

Tempest and Stygian are room mates, but they're not dating, sharing a purely platonic relationship. (Stygian is gay and Tempest is a lesbian. they're each other's beards, basically)

Chryssie lives in an apartment Sombra pays the rent to, but only under the agreement that she stop dating people just to raid their houses. It's worked so far, at least according to CCTV footage

once the magic Twilight absorbed disperses into the team, giving them magic, Spike gets dragon attributes along with being able to talk. This means sometimes he eats Sombra's fancy gemstones and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it because if he yells at his gf's dog/little brother he'll get smacked. Sombra is in hell but everyone else loves it

#twibra #mlp fim #my art #basically they're a frankengroup of friends who were kicked out of other friend groups #so they've become more powerful than u can imagine

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honeybubblebeeeeee · 6 months

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Coming Home || Dabi x reader

Dabi has been missing since the raid on the League's base

Days had gone by since the League's base had been raided. A few of those who resided there had been captured, or killed. The news was updating the events daily, new discoveries and arrests but I only watched for one thing, him.

Dabi had been there. I had seen him on the tv. His blue fire ablaze as he fought back against the heroes but eventually the cameras stopped focusing on him and that was the last I'd seen of him.

He had a key to my apartment, which he used regularly even though he refused to move in with me. I had texted and called his phone more times than I could count but he never answered and it never even rang.

I never really slept either since he'd been gone. If I did sleep it was on the couch in the living room with the tv on. I had hoped I would somehow wake if they brought up Dabi.

The night went on. I tried to do some work on my laptop but couldn't help but stare at the tv, scanning the footage I've seen probably a hundred times by now just hoping to catch a glimpse of him that I might have missed. Some indication of his health.

At some point I had fallen asleep, the tv still played as I slept uncomfortably on the couch. A loud noise woke me as I sat up, the front door wide open. The coat rack that usually stood beside the door wasn't there. I stood abruptly to look past the couch.

I could have cried.

I moved quickly as Dabi tried to pick himself up from where he was sprawled on the floor. I placed my hands on his side as I rolled him onto his back, he groaned at the movement. Words were lost as I looked him over. Some of his staples were missing, blood stained his skin, whether it was his own or someone else's was hard to tell. His eyes slowly blinked open.

"hey dollface." He tried to smile but winced as blood spilled from his wounds.

I had a million and one questions but he wasn't looking good. I moved quickly, closing the front door and running down the hall to the bathroom, turning on the shower and running back to where Dabi laid. His eyes closing.

I cupped his face as his eyes forced open. "Hi baby, I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

He shook his head slightly as I helped him sit up. "I'm alright don't worry about me."

Typical of Dabi to be stubborn even when in such a state. I helped him up and slowly helped him walk as he limped to the bathroom. Leaned him up against the sink, as I moved to make sure the water was at a proper temperature.

"We gotta get these clothes off you" I moved to slowly pull his jacket down his arms.

"I mean I missed you too doll but I don't think I can perform at this very moment." His voice was weak as he tried to joke, typical of him to act unserious in a moment like this.

"Dabi could you be serious for a single second." I threw his jacket into the hallway, his t-shirt torn in places, the fabric darker from soaked up blood. He winced as I got him out of the rest of his clothes and settled him into the bathtub. He relaxed as the warm water softly washed away the past couple of days.

I moved to the bedroom, pulling out clean clothes and leaving them on the bed, as well as some black towels. I dropped them in the bathroom, making sure he was still breathing, as I pulled out the large medbag I kept in the closet. Dabi had showed up in a similar state many times before and at this point I was prepared. The relief of him appearing finally still lingered but now wasn't the time to act on it.

I grabbed the shower head and kneeled beside him, turning it to a softer setting and using a small soft cloth and soap to clean up the wounds as best as I could. His eyes followed my movements, his body relaxing.

I worked quickly to remove broken staples and replace them with new ones, Dabi didn't wince, mostly used to the feeling at this point. I covered the few cuts he had, thankfully he seemed to mostly escape with minor injuries. His lack of energy and disappearance was probably from the toll his quirk had on his body.

Cleaned up and bandaged. I helped him up, dried him off and got him into a pair of sweats before he flopped onto the bed and closed his eyes. He was safe, he was alive, I'd let him rest and hound him tomorrow with questions.

I had my own shower to clean off the blood, cleaned up the bathroom and threw away his destroyed clothes. Righted the coat rack and shut off the tv.

Dabi still laid in the same position, his chest rising and falling. I moved to the bed to lay beside him, the light from the lamp illuminating his skin that was slowly returning to his normal colour from the pale look he had only a couple hours ago. His head turned to look at me, a soft smirk on his face.

"Come here darling." He lifted his arm and tapped my head to move to him.

I inched towards him and rested my head on his shoulder as he held me.

"I was so scared I wouldn't see you again." My voice came out barely above a whisper.

"You can't get rid of me that easy." He kissed the top of my head.

"Touya..." He sighed and tiled my head up to look at him.

"I know, I'm sorry. I lost my phone in all of the chaos and I was so burned out after I couldn't move for literally an entire day. Everyone went underground so I was left to my own devices." His voice sounded tired. Not just physically but mentally, I know he had goals but it was taking a toll on him.

I cupped his face and kissed him. "You should stay with me from now on." He seemed to be considering it and pulled me closer.

"You don't want me all up in your space all the time doll. You'll get tired of me." He closed his eyes but I sat up and glared at him. He peaked one eye open and sighed. "I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to lead any of those losers back here. I'm safe with you. I don't want to compromise that." He rubbed his hand down my arm before pulling me back against his chest.

"I feel safest with you, when you're here." I whispered back to him.

He seemed to think on it for a moment and then squeezed me against him forcing a giggle out of me. "Alright doll, you convinced me but you need to promise me a couple things?"

I looked up at him and nodded as he looked down to me.

"One, if any of those idiots even catch wind of you or where you live, you're moving. Two, if you're working late I'm coming to get you, the weirdos come out at night even more since the raid. And three, you can't ever get rid of me." He stared at me with a cheeky smirk on his face.

I pretended to ponder, deep in thought. "You're right sounds like a lot, never mind." I rolled over and he grabbed me pulling me back as I laughed.

"Like I said sweetheart, you're stuck with me." He kissed my cheek as he reached over me and turned the lamp off.

(also send requests! i appreciate them they help smmmm with writers block <3)

#dabi fic #dabi x reader #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #dabi fluff #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #touya todoroki #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #bnha dabi #dabi

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desidov · 17 days

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The Structure of a Successful Game Changer pt. 1 - Make Some Noise

An analysis of the stages comprising an entertaining and innovative Game Changer episode, explained by breaking down the episode Make Some Noise.

Stage 1: Our contestants have no idea

With prompt "cow," Josh responds "cow." Sam replies, "I'm sorry, that is not the answer I was looking for."

Often only a turn or two, this first stage is comprised of the players identifying the core mechanic of the episode—getting a basic understanding of what each question will ask of them and how they might earn points or advance further. Other examples: the first forays into navigating the Jeopardy board, or Sam’s opening instructions for “Sam Says” demonstrating an instruction not preceded by “Sam says” should not be followed.

Stage 2: You all understand

With prompt "duck," Zac responds "quack quack" and receives a point. Josh comments "Okay I see, I see what this is about, okay."

Here the players realize the structure of each question, and witness some behaviors receiving points while others do not (excluding non-point-earning episodes.) Sometimes, this is all the players need to understand the fundamental premise (mimic the sound produced by the prompt) while sometimes unraveling the mystery of the premise is the overall conceit of the episode (tell us about yourself, yes or no.)

Stage 3: Escalation of Rules

After Zac's response to "frog," Sam says "I'm gonna toss it up to the other two contestants [to steal the point.] Brennan, give me your best frog."

An expansion to the initial rules is revealed, allowing players to further advance/gain points beyond the initial bounds of the premise. Here, the escalation is that players may steal prompts from each other—others include incorporated phrase bonus points from The Official Cast Recording and the hidden immunity loop-de-loops from Survivor.

Stage π: Departure

Sam says "We are now headed into our first mini game." Each player attempts to recreate a melody on an otamatone.

This optional stage, typically presented as a “mini game,” is thematically connected to the premise but operates on its own rules. Make Some Noise iterations typically include a mini game where contestants are provided a prop and must mimic a given sound with that prop—no spoken entries qualify. Similarly, A Sponsored Episode and its continuations feature a mini game of providing commercial voice-overs for stock footage (where non-commercial interpretations are not rewarded,) and a mini game of identifying brand taglines/logos.

Stage 4: Escalation of Concept

Sam introduces the next prompt, "Your word is jack hammer." Josh makes a jack hammer sound, bouncing with a hand above his head and explaining "that's him keeping the hat on."

While Stage 3 adds on to the rules of the episode, Stage 4 applies the same rules to something new—here transitioning from animal calls to all manner of sound effects. Escalation of concept can be clearly demarcated, as this example is, or more gradual, like the escalations from common animal calls to obscure animal calls or from physical prompts to intangible prompts like “anguish.” What matters is that escalations continue to push the format to new heights and prevent the conceit from stagnating.

Stage 5: Expansion of Concept

The prompt is a stock photo of a smiling young adult white man. Brennan roleplays the man arrogantly describing his improv group, ending with "This date's going well."

Though similar to Stage 4, I characterize this stage as a dramatic alteration to the format of prompts—here from text prompts to image prompts. This can be for several turns, as it is for MSN, or just one, such as “go” from Sam Says or the cockroach union from “Do I hear $1?” This builds a finale that presses the bounds of the format to their limits, capping off the episode.

#dropout #game changer #make some noise #txt #more to come?!

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weebsinstash · 10 months

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I’m honestly living for the potential Miguel angst in your YouTwo fics, like him realising it’s pretty much entirely his fault that you got so injured/traumatised. Excellent Yandere potential right here lmaoo.

No but really, because like your standard edition default yandere could be like "oh, you're so weak and delicate, only I can protect you, only I deserve to have you, oh you're so wonderful and lovely, you are incapable of actually truly taking care of yourself like i can" and you know all the mushy shit that is varying degrees of truth and delusion

And here you have Miguel, who like, let's look on "the timeline" that we've kind of established here, ok, because, wow does he have some reasons to uh, go feral

-you guys have a cordial, team-up kind of first meeting against an anomaly in your home dimension, you wind up being invited to Spider Society, one day your home universe is JUST GONE while you're out and about in Nueva York or elsewhere

-You're like basically homeless, traumatized, depressed, like what was all of that for, what was all your suffering for, those deaths and tragedies you experienced, you SUFFERED to be a Spider, and now, your home is gone, what does this mean, like, you have the most justifiable existential crisis one can imagine, you had a DESTINY my dude! And it's GONE NOW, POOF

-Spider Society becomes new home, new community, new thing to keep you going and alive and grounded and they all like you and sometimes you think you're actually happier than ever, you feel very loved and supported, even teach your own class, people like you, little do you know how much lol

-but you still have depression and anxiety and self doubts but hey everyone supports you 🥺 part of being a Spider is picking yourself back up right?

-youtwo shows up, you feel weird, somwqhat threatened by their presence but, also some kinship actually, maybe they even feed you some story either genuine or a lie and you allow them to be you once or twice, they get drunk on it, kind of trick you, fans out, starts stealing your identity. Suddenly what purpose you had in your life is at question. If anything and everything you can do can simply be replicated, what use is there for you? Whatever depression and issues you have before are amplified

-members of the community start mistaking you for the replica and treat you varying degrees of disregard to outright disrespect and you wonder what that means, if they were all just nasty liars to "real you" or if you were just never really that special or anything to begin with and they just latched onto "real you" for some random reason

-you get framed for something youtwo does,sabotaging a big society construction project that you saved the day on but got injured for. YouTwo doesn't even need to pretend it wasn't them, you're framed and people believe it, they believe the narrative that you wanted to feel needed and set this up to be the hero and people treat you with either pity or disgust or just coddling "oh, poor them :( they shouldn't have done that though..."

-you just kind of start hating everyone because it's at the point where now YouTwo hasn't just stolen your life but put you in a position where EVEN WHEN your identity was believed, your reputation and relationship with others is tarnished. Like picture with me here, put yourself in the moment, you're crying you're feeling so sad and outraged because you genuinely cannot believe what you're hearing as Miguel stands there forcing himself to be emotionless and saying "the footage doesn't lie and we have a witness" and it's just YouTwo planting bombs and they stole your costume or were manipulating people and spreading lies or something, and you're just, like, feeling literally fucking violated that this is happening to you, you're literally sitting there with like a hip or broken femur because of being injured in the incident, where you also saved other people by the way, and you're being accused of being the perpetrator, after everything you've done for them, with them, after never having done this sort of thing before, you're just. Outraged doesn't begin to describe it. Whether you love or respect him you can't believe someone who was like family to you, not just him but by extension all of them, would do this to you. You're more alone than ever, and stuck in a wheelchair where they try to pitying dote on you while you completely clam up and some of them interpret it as guilt and you eventually just tell all of them to leave you the fuck alone (again, a little interpreted as guilt)

-Miguel like legitimately thinks he's doing what's best for you. The time he finally truly sides with YouTwo and winds up actually hurting you the worst is when he's trying to be like, "see I finally believe you, Im sorry I doubted you, I'll fix this I promise, I'll get rid of the second one" and he's saying it all to. YouTwo. Like imagine how bad that fucking hurts. You're either crying or just laughing at the absurdity of it, either weeping or actively antagonizing him until you blip away from having your bracelet broken/removed when you're "exiled"

-after you're gone, that's when he realizes how BAAAAAAADLY he's fucked up. He's got definitive evidence the you in front of him is the fake, he has no idea where you are, if even that you're alive. really, you glitching away instead of outright dying basically makes you an anomaly, even more than before anyways. Maybe the fact you just vanish instead of have the whole cell death thing gives him hope that you're still out there and he obsessively searches for you, but can never find you

-until one day when he's at his near breaking point, I mean this man is hanging on by THREADS at this point, you just, glitch back into his life. Like a miracle. And you're hungry. And you're cold. And you're hurt. And you need help and he NEEDS you, needs to be the one to help you, to atone for what's happened, especially when he sees your deteoriated state mentally, physically, and emotionally. Like. He latches on to you like a parasite, please please PLEASE let him make this up to you he is like BARELY holding himself together he NEEDS you and needs to help you (oh wow that whole construction disaster "causing a problem to reap the benefits of fixing it" is unintentionally coming back full circle for you ain't it dude, the apollo gift of prophecy levels of projection lmao)

And you know I mentioned in the past "what if you get rescued by another Miguel and latch onto him" but like if Reader is so emotionally and mentally worn down, I think really having "your" Miguel so desperate for your forgiveness and seeming so genuinely attached to you would really sort of activate the Oh God I Just Need Someone To Love Me And Need Me insecurities and traumas. You wake up from a good rest after first coming back and he's apologizing to you profusely and you just kind of break down and immediately accept him back because you just. Need to feel like you matter. Like the toxic codependency of you needing to feel loved and him desperately wanting to make things up to you, giving you any praise or affection or attention he wants to give you and you feeling somehow reassured by the dedication, but also him being in this position of power and authority over you where he, if he wants to, has extreme control over your life. You're just over here barely keeping it together and critically depressed and needing hugs and needing to matter and you have this hulking almost 7 foot behemoth of trauma of grief who has a More Than Unhealthy Attachment to you who does have Intentions is now being fully in control of your care, of your safety, of your environment, with a heightened emotional investment in just. Literally everything about you

Oh yeah, he's all too happy to give you food and shelter after your traumatizing multiverse travels. But he also didn't want to let you leave in the first place. Now he won't let you. He's partially convinced he shouldn't ever let you out of his sight ever again, period. He's just becoming Downright Mentally Unstable because not only have these things happened to you, between you and him, but also, there were people who helped YouTwo, helped the scheme, whether intentionally or not, and now he's more untrusting of his peers and surroundings. He grows colder to the ones he doesn't trust. He programs his own watch to give him notifications on your status on those occasions you're apart like when he has to go fight anomalies, which is suddenly magically Way Too Dangerous for you to do anymore you're basically on house arrest

You really truly become All He Has Left, like borderline his reason for living at this point besides his own motivations and drive as Spiderman 2099 and his mission to protect the multiverse. But you're a big thing keeping him going. Even if you don't love him, he'll make sure to stay by your side and not leave you ever again. He won't make the same mistake twice, he promises. You just have to give him the time to prove it

#yandere spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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makeitmingi · 6 months

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Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 48]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

Two weeks passed really quickly with you going into the studio early in the morning and coming back late at night, juggling multiple projects at one go. Sometimes, you would work from your home studio just to be around Mingi. But he too would occasionally go to his studio to work and write lyrics.

Today, Mingi told you he would be coming home late since he was meeting some old friends for dinner. Lucky for you though because or else he would ask where you currently were.

Which was the police station.

"Miss (y/l/n)?" The familiar face of the officer came out. You stood up, pulling your hood tighter around your head.

"Your phone call sounded urgent. What's the matter?" She invited you to take a seat in the private room. You sat down and she sat adjacent from you.

"I-I..." You couldn't even form the words to begin to explain to her what happened.

"It's okay, take your time." She smiled softly, speaking patiently. She reached out to put her hand over your shaky, clamy one.

"I got this... I-it was delivered to my house... M-My new house..." You took a thick envelope out from your hoodie pocket and slid it over to her. She cast you a confused look and was about to open it when you stopped her.

"It's... from the person." You gulped. She immediately withdrew her hands. Standing up, she went to a cabinet to grab a pair of gloves. She wore the white gloves and opened the envelope.

Your bottom lip quivered as she flipped through the photos. Photos of you coming in and out of the building, different Ateez members as well. And the threatening letter.

"W-What should I do? Is there nothing that can be done?" You asked, fear and panic in your voice.

"I'll submit this to the evidence box. We'll try to get fingerprints off it." She said, putting the photos back into the envelope.

"I'll look at the footage in the building vicinity. But this person is careful, never actually doing the deliveries themselves." She sighed, giving you a pitiful look.

"Please, I don't want your pity. I just need something done about this, anything. The packages that have been coming into KQ, have been getting from bad to worse. Even the security guards are getting freaked out by the contents of it." You begged with deperation laced in your voice.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). There's just not much I can go off on now. I wish there was more I can do." She rubbed your arm.

"It could be a group, it could be an individual. But we've seen cases like this before, those crazed fans are relentless." She said. Was that supposed to make you feel better?

"I can't keep moving houses or keeping myself cooped up in my apartment. This isn't going to go away." You wiped your tears.

"Yes, it's not fair to you." She passed you a tissue box.

"Officer Yoon, this isn't just some crazed fan. All evidence points to an inside job, this person is inside KQ. Isn't that something you can use to launch an investigation?" You asked.

"I promise to keep working to launch an investigation as soon as possible." Her empty promise wasn't enough.

"Actually, another thing I wanted to ask you about. I saw that there was another case filed. Against a Mr Lee Seyoon? For assault. Can you tell me more about what happened?" She asked, pulling up the file on her iPad.

"Yes. He assaulted me while we went overseas for a film project. The company knows about that." You replied.

"Do you have any suspicions at all that he may be connected to the person or people that are threatening you?" She cleared her throat. You shook your head.

"He was too obsessed with himself or the fact that I wouldn't submit to him. Then he wanted to unmask me. Nothing to do with my relationship or what the threats have been about." You informed.

"Have you told your partner about this yet?"

"No. I don't want to drag him into this. Especially since we haven't got anything to go off on." You hung your head.

Of course, it hurt you to admit that you were deliberately hiding this from Mingi. It hurt you to imagine how it would be like if he knew that you were hiding this from him. You knew that it would break him and break your relationship. But you couldn't tell him, knowing the guilt and remorse you would cause him to feel.

"You shouldn't bottle this up, (y/n). You should tell him what's going on." She adviced. It was easy for her to say. You stood up and bowed before walking out.

"(y/n), wait." She called out but you were already out of the police station. You kept your head low as you rode the cab back.

"Hwa?" You whimpered on the phone.

"Indigo? What's wrong? What happened?" Seonghwa's voice indicated the sudden panic he felt when he heard how broken your voice was.

"Are you busy? Can I see you, please?" You tried to keep it together in the back of the cab.

"Of course. I'm not busy, I'm in the dorm. Are you home?" You heard some movement and shuffling on the other side of the call.

"No but I will be home soon..." You said and hung up. When the cab pulled up in the driveway, you paid the driver and got out. You rushed into the lobby, now worried that someone was always watching you wherever you were going.

When the lift door opened, Seonghwa was waiting outside your front door with a worried frown on his face. You tried to hold it together as you unlocked the door and invited him in.

"Hwa..." The moment the door closed, you let out a choked sob and hugged him.

"It's okay, it's okay. I got you. I'm here." He said, wrapping his arms around you securely, rubbing your back.

"It's okay, little star. It's alright." He whispered. You lost feeling in your legs, causing the both of you to sink to the ground. He kept his secure grip on you.

"Are you hurt?" That was what Seonghwa was worried about the most but he didn't get to check you for any injuries. When he felt you shake your head against his chest, he let out a sigh of relief. At least you weren't hurt. But he still didn't press you to tell him what happened, he wanted you to calm down first.

Seonghwa moved you to the couch, closing his eyes as you heard his wrecked sobs against his shoulder. He lifted your face and wiped your face with a tissue.

"Oh, Indigo..." His heart hurt seeing how distraught you were and the fact that he didn't know how to help you.

"What happened? Tell me, hmm?" He coaxed, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I got these... these photos... They were sent here... To this address..." You said between sobs, continuing to wipe your tears with the ends of your sleeves.

"And this person...T-They... T-They threatened to hurt... A-All of you... Especially M-Mingi." You looked up at him with fearful eyes.

"Indigo." He hugged you again.

"We'll be okay, nothing will happen to us or Mingi." He assured. But you knew there wasn't a guarantee. Idols get hurt by crazy sasaengs all the time, there was never 100% guarantee of safety, no matter how many bodyguards or precautions there were.

"I don't care... If they hurt me... I'll take it... But I don't want them to hurt any of you... Oh God, I can't even imagine it." You heaved, feeling your stomach churn uncomfortably.

"No, don't say that. Don't think that. You think Mingi would want to see you hurt? Or any of us? Would I want to see you taking all this hurt on your own?" He frowned, holding your wrists in his hands.

"What should I do, Hwa?" You cried.

"What did the case officer say when you gave the photos and letter?" He asked, his tone soft and patient again.

"S-She said she'll try to p-push for an internal in-investigation. But that's all she can do now. T-There are no clues." Your breaths were shaky and wrecked.

"H-Hwa..." You gulped and looked back up at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he listened.

"T-There was something... That s-scared me... even more." You said.

"What's that?"

"There were pictures of Haneul." You told him. That was it, you burst into another round of sobs. Seonghwa reached over to gather you in his arms, as if trying to prevent you from falling apart even more but it was too late. He pressed his cheek to the top of your head as he rubbed your back to try and comfort you.

"I'm sorry, Indigo." That was all he could say. Seonghwa couldn't imagine the fear that you were feeling now. Haneul was your world, your treasure, your reason. Everyone knew that.

Now that a threat was directed at her, Seonghwa could only try to understand how you must feel so defeated and hopeless.

He couldn't even promise you that she would be safe. Because how could he make that promise? That nothing will happen to her when even he didn't know.

"Indigo, you should tell our CEO about this. He might know what to do or offer you some security protection until an investigation is launched." He said.

"I will... I informed Eden earlier..." You nodded glumly.

"Also, I know you don't want to but you should tell Mingi and Hongjoong at least. Hongjoong has more brains than me when it comes to giving advise like this." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"No... Hwa. You and Jongho have been helping me so much... Mingi's going to think that this is his fault, that he caused this to happen... He just finished his home leave after the incident, I don't want something similar to happen again." You shook your head.

"Alright, alright. You don't worry about that for now." He placed a hand on your head then tucked you under his arm.

You fell asleep like that, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Seonghwa only managed to move you so that you laid your head in his lap. He couldn't bear to leave you alone.

"Baby, I'm ho- Hyung?" Mingi stood there, shocked.

"Shh." Seonghwa put a finger to his lips to shush the taller male. Mingi blinked, wondering if he drank too much and was hallucinating. He only had two drinks.

"What are you doing here?" Mingi whispered, seeing how the older naturally stroked your hair like you were a cat.

"I came down to accompany her. We watched a movie and she fell asleep." He lied smoothly.

"I'm glad she wasn't alone then." Mingi bent down in front of you. His hand must have been cold because when it made contact with your cheek, you shivered in your sleep. He couldn't help but smile softly and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. That was when he noticed how puffy your eyes were.

"Did she cry?" He looked up at the older, eyebrows furrowing in worry as he caressed your cheek.

"She insisted on watching a sad movie..." Seonghwa acted exasperated, shaking his head to make it more convincing.

"Typical. Shall I move her to the room? Then you can go upstairs and sleep in your bed more comfortably." Mingi offered. To be honest, he wished you were sleeping in his lap now.

"Be careful." Seonghwa cautioned. He knew you would want comfort from Mingi now, even asleep.

"I will." Mingi carefully slipped his arms under you and lifted you up. Seonghwa trailed behind, watching Mingi lay you on the bed.

"Mings...?" You stirred, opening your eyes slightly.

"Hey, baby. Go back to sleep, hmm?" Mingi cooed, stroking your hair to coax you back to sleep. You leaned into his touch and fell back asleep. He tucked you in and walked out to see Seonghwa standing there, ready to head back.

"Thanks for accompanying her, hyung. I'll see you tomorrow?" Mingi bowed his head. Seonghwa nodded, offering a small smile and a pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Standing outside the closed door, Seonghwa let out a small sigh. Although he was concerned about leaving you, he couldn't do anything that would rouse Mingi's suspicion so he had to act and lie.

"Sorry, Mingi ah." He was riddled with guilt for lying to Mingi when he knew it wasn't right.

Meanwhile, Mingi went to take a quick shower and joined you in bed. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him.

"I love you." He kissed the top of your head.

You left the house before Mingi woke up. You were not able to face him after what you went through yesterday, a part of you scared you might cry if he spoke to you.

"You can't avoid him forever, can't you?" You sighed to yourself, resting your head against your hand as you stared blankly at the screen in front of you. Since you came in, you haven't been able to get any work done. There was just too much going on now in your head now to do work.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming." You pushed yourself to stand up, already knowing who was here. You opened the door to let Eden in while you walked to your desk to get your phone and coffee glass.

"What is that?" Eden asked as the odd coloured liquid you were drinking. It definitely wasn't just coffee.

"Coffee, energy drink and ginseng extract." You replied.

"Okay now I may not be a nutritionist or doctor but I know that can't be healthy." Eden took the glass from your hand and placed it back down on the coffee table.

"Just thought it would help me focus a little." You ran a hand through your hair, wearing your beanie.

"It'll be okay, Indigo. I'm glad you're doing this." He smiled softly. You nodded your head, not really saying anything. Was everything really going to be okay? Was this really the best option for you now? Your head was muddled with different thoughts.

"Let's go." That was all you could say. Eden nodded and walked out of your studio with you. While you took the lift up together, you closed your eyes for a brief second and took a deep breath.

"You can lower your mask to take a few breaths, I'll face the other way." Eden offered.

"It's fine." You shook your head. When the doors opened and you stepped out, you gulped. You looked at the all the offices.

"It's this way." Eden guided you. You wordlessly and thoughtlessly followed him. As you stopped in front of the door, Eden knocked and opened it.

"Indigo, Eden. Come in." The male stood up from his desk.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me, I mean, us, on such short notice CEO Kim." You bowed as you walked in. Eden walked behind you and closed the door once the both of you were in. The suited male nodded with an understanding smile. He gestured for you and Eden to take a seat opposite him.

"So, what can I do for you?" CEO Kim leaned on his hands. From a expectant tone of his voice, you knew that he was hoping you were here to tell him that you would be staying on with KQ.

"It's not good news, I'm afraid." You said, setting his expectation. He hummed, nodding his head.

"Go on." He encouraged nonethless.

"I... There's no nice way to say this... So I'll just come out and say it." You gulped. You watched as his eyebrows raised slightly in interest as he leaned back in his chair.

"I've been in a relationship with Mingi for a few months now." You winced as you said it.

"I see..." Was all he said, his face void of any emotion.

"My deepest apologies, sir. For causing this much trouble. I'll take full responsibility on this, not Mingi." You stood up and formally bowed to him. He sighed.

"You're apologising for being in a relationship?" He asked. You were stunned by his question. Of anything and everything that he could ask, you were not expecting that. You thought he would tear your contract to shreds right in front of you.

"N-No, of course not. I love Mingi, I still do, with all my heart. I don't think I've ever loved someone like that before." You said firmly.

"Then? Yes, it is minorly inconvenient but the boys don't have a dating ban. It's been announced since Day 1 so I don't exactly see the issue here." He cleared his throat.

"That's not the issue per say, Mr Kim. Actually, Indigo's been getting harrassed by someone." Eden spoke.

You were still reeling from the shock of the CEO's reaction to you telling him that you were dating Mingi. Wa he truly okay with it?

"Harrassed? By fans?" That made him frown.

"No... I've been receiving threats. It started with harmless emails and server messages but I was followed home, I've received threatening packages and letters here. And yesterday, photos were sent to my new apartment. Photos of me, the Ateez boys and the child under my care." You nearly cracked at the last part.

"Alright, I see that that's an issue. Well, have you and Mingi been seen in public alone? Or gone on dates outside? Anywhere fans could have spotted you two?" He asked.

"No, sir. We're really careful." You said.

"The police have been informed, Mr Kim. The reason why we're bringing this up to you and not the legal team is that there's suspicions of this being an inside job." Eden informed.

"Wait, someone who works here is the culprit? A KQ employee?" CEO Kim was in shock and disbelief.

"Everyone hired goes through a rigorous screening process, Eden. Accusing a KQ employee is a big claim." He cautioned.

"We know. But evidence points to it. The only other place where people might have seen Mingi and Indigo together is here at the office." Eden reasoned.

"And this person knows I moved. The only people who have access to my new address would be someone with access to internal data since the KQ team was the one who found my new apartment for me." You added.

"Who else knows about this? Mingi, I'm assuming. And Hongjoong, given your close relationship with him." CEO Kim asked.

"They don't know. I haven't been able to tell them. Besides Eden, Jongho and Seonghwa know. Jongho guessed and Seonghwa saw one of the threatening emails." You told him.

"I see. Good that the news doesn't spread then. The media might catch wind of it." He thought out loud.

"Say that it is someone internal, what's the next course of action then?" CEO Kim asked.

"With enough evidence, the police want to launch an internal investigation." You chewed on your bottom lip. He nodded his head, knowing he would have to agree to the internal investigation.

"I'm not trying to scare you but I have to be honest with you. This can become very bad, very quickly if word gets out, which we all know it will. The media will have a field day spinning stories and tearing the company to shreds. And that also means your identity might also be leaked, Indigo." He sighed.

"I am aware. This could also cause the boys' comeback to be pushed back. Therefore, I've spoken with Eden. And the best option would be to leave KQ." You said, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Series Masterlist

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sumeruin · 1 year

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♫♪: idée fixe

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, modern au, yandere, dubcon but both people are into it, sorta blackmail? not explicitly but it’s kinda there, slight dacryphilia, i think that’s it but if i missed anything let me know <3

♫♪: pairing: yandere! heizou x yandere! reader

♫♪: a/n: this idea has been bouncing around in my brain for weeks i needed to get it out of there. not proofread because it’s 6am <3 might write a part two to this later but right now this is all you guys get!!!

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!!

heizou knows what you’ve been doing. he knows that you like to follow him around whenever he does anything, knows that you have a habit of taking his things without asking, knows that sometimes, when you’re sure he’s not home, you go into his room and lay down on his bed while cuddling into his blankets. he thinks it’s adorable, really, though if you were anyone else he might not take as kindly to it, he always feels slightly giddy whenever he looks over the security camera footage in his home and sees that you’ve come over and taken another small, easily replaceable thing from his desk, or another piece of dirty silverware from his meals. he just loves all your sweet little tendencies.

he knows that you have some secrets he hasn’t yet too, and he’s determined to find them out, which is why he’s picking your lock and quietly letting himself into your bedroom in the middle of the night. he knows it’s risky, that even stepping on a single creaky floorboard could be enough to wake you up and blow his cover as the nice, charming detective that would never commit any crime, but he just can’t resist. he’s getting curious about that little notebook you always seem to be writing in, and he needs to find out what’s in it that you’re so protective of.

he’s careful not to walk too loudly as he makes his way over to your desk, his eyes lighting up when he sees that you already have the notebook he’s looking for set out on the surface.

you just make it so easy, don’t you?

he slowly reaches for it and gently paws through the pages, his eyes widening at the hastily scribbled, almost maniacal words that covered every page. he noticed they started out like how a schoolgirl would write about her innocent little crushes, but the longer time went on the more obsessive the entries looked. the first one stood out to him in particular, he could remember it as the day he finally gathered the courage to talk to you and become friends.

“february 2nd, 2020.

valentine’s day is coming up! i can’t wait to give out treats to everyone. someone new talked to me too! i think his name was heizou? whatever his name is, he’s super cute. i think i’ll try to get to know him better later.”

heizou kept flipping through the notebook entries, coming across one with a picture of him taped in it. he took note of how much more disorganized and frenzied the handwriting seemed.

“september 20th, 2020.

today i saw heizou eating in the park, he looked at me and waved and i almost fainted, he actually looked at me! he likes me enough to recognize me! i’m sure he feels the same way as i do.”

he felt a smile creep on his face. why would you want to hide this from him? he thinks it’s so cute how much you love him. unable to resist, heizou keeps flipping through the pages, around the halfway mark he notices that they go from slightly crazed, but still mostly innocent, ramblings to much more explicit, detailed wishes. he also notices that you stopped dating them at some point. he makes a mental note to ask you about later.

“heizou went to a new coffee shop this morning. he got a different order than what he usually gets, i wish i had managed to hear what it was, but the barista was being too loud. she didn’t deserve to talk to him. she took his presence for granted. if i had the chance to make heizou a drink i’d be much more grateful than she was. i hate her.”

he laughed to himself. you’re just so cute. his smile was replaced by a look of shock at the contents of the next entry.

“….i would give anything to be with heizou. i belong to him, everything that i am is entirely his. i wish i could tell him that, but i don’t want him to think i’m just a creepy stalker. what i’m doing isn’t stalking, i’m just making sure he’s safe! i’m sure he wouldn’t mind if i told him.”

heizou had finally found the incriminating evidence he needed. while it wasn’t the point of this trip, he couldn’t deny that he felt himself getting worked up at the thought of finally having you to himself. and judging by your journal entries, you’ve been waiting just as long for him.

he quickly walked over to your bed, notebook still held tightly on his hands, and gently shook you awake.

“what- heizou? what are you doing?” you looked up at him in dazed confusion, your voice slightly groggy with sleep.

“would you like to explain what you wrote in this little notebook? stalking is a crime you know, i could have you arrested.” heizou reached over to cup your cheek as he spoke, laughing at the shocked expression on your face.

“i- i just really like you a lot and i didn’t wanna tell you cause i was scared y-you wouldn’t like me too and so i started following you so i could find out more about you and th-then it got kinda out of hand but i didn’t wanna stop cause i like you so much and i’m so sorry please don’t hate me!” you squinted your eyes shut, waiting for him to reject you while trying your hardest to ignore the burning feeling on your face.

heizou hummed as he examined your features, the tears threatening to spill past your waterline, the way you leaned into his hand on your cheek, practically cuddling it, the embarrassment he could almost see radiating off you in waves. “do you wanna make it up to me?”

your eyes snapped open. “yes! i’d do anything to make it up to you, please let me!” he cooed softly at how eagerly you begged him, unable to deny how much he liked being in this position of control over you.

“if you wanna make it up to me you have to do everything i say without asking questions, ok?�� heizou moved his hand from your cheek to firmly grasp your jaw, smirking to himself when he felt you try to nod against his tight grip. “good. get on your knees on the floor.”

as you were moving positions he sat down on your bed, spreading his legs to make room for you in between them. he reached for the waistband of his pants and released his aching cock from the tight confines. “now, you’re going to suck my cock, and if you do a good enough job, i’ll forgive you. got it?”

you vigorously nodded, already leaning in to press a light kiss against the head. you opened your mouth and slowly started to take him into it, making sure to use your hands on the parts you couldn’t quite get to with your mouth yet. you felt his hands come down on your head, harshly pushing you to take him even deeper and making you gag and choke around him, tears starting to bubble up in your eyes.

“c’mon, i’m sure you can do better than that. you do want me to forgive you, don’t you?” heizou knew he was being a little mean, but he couldn’t help it. you just looked so cute below him, so eager to please that you’re choking on his cock and refusing to come back up for air. he knew you’d do it, but he didn’t think you’d be this enthusiastic about it.

you made yourself suck more of him in at the empty threat in his words, his tip hitting the back of your throat and your nose finally hitting the hard muscle of his abdomen as you tried to remember to breathe. the soft, breathy moans heizou let out when you managed it made it all worth it though, and you started bobbing your head with a newfound determination.

heizou couldn’t wait to fuck that determined little look off your face.

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catflowerqueen · 4 months

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I’m kind of… of two minds about today’s SAMS episode.

(Warning for resigned and unhappy ranting below the cut)

The acting was spot-on—especially Moon’s hysterical laughing fit and the way Solar was trying to protect him and keep him from making rash decisions—but I don’t really like that they used Eclipse the way they did to achieve that. It seems almost… not exactly like a plot device, per say, but more of… an unnecessary upping of the stakes, I suppose? The group was already facing threats on five fronts: The constellations, Stitchwraith, Bloodmoon, Ruin’s mystery, and the Creator’s machinations.

And, sure, technically you could separate out the Creator, constellations, and Stitchwraith since their “plotlines” are more intertwined with the Lunar and Earth show and Monty and Foxy show… but considering how often Sun, Moon, and Solar get pulled into that and how Stitchwraith was technically the one who blew up the daycare, they are still fairly intertwined. So adding Eclipse in on top of all of that just feels a little… not great. Especially considering that it sort of ruins that scene he had with Solar Flare as the two of them were dying.

That isn’t to say I can’t see a few ways this could work. For example, Ruin could just be pulling another “Bloodmoon” and basically creating a new Eclipse using old SAMS footage to basically act as a smoke screen and hide whatever he is up to. He could have even used bits of Solar’s programming to do so given that it is pretty likely they were the one to knock Solar out, and there was tons of time to scan him and make blueprints after hiding the camera footage. Or Sun could be right and it could all just be a mean prank from Ruin’s end. Sure, Solar saw him on the camera footage today in the arcade, but since it was more than likely Ruin who edited the footage of Solar getting attacked, they could also very easily edit the footage to make it seem like they never left the arcade when in reality they had come over to mess with Sun and Moon. And they had plenty of time to learn how to disable the defenses and mess with the computer since they used to live in the ballpit, which is extremely close by one of the entrances to reach the computer from Moon’s room.

And it could, in theory, be the original Eclipse from when Sun first threw him out of his mind and messed up the spell and who has only just now managed to fix himself and stayed caught up on what was happening by watching the show—showing that he really did learn from his mistakes when Lunar pointed out how useful the viewers can be at information gathering. Or it could be any number of backups that Old Moon never found before Bloodmoon started being an actual nuisance that first time.

But give the show’s track record for bringing up interesting plot points and ideas only to drop them or otherwise retcon explanations… honestly, my hopes aren’t that high.

Honestly… I feel like I might want to just step away from the show for a while. At least partially—Maybe just focusing more on the gameplay side of the show more than the lore. Like. I still like the show, but I’m not really as excited as I used to be for the theorizing part, and I might be a little burnt out now.

I’m not saying I won’t be interacting with or posting about the show occasionally still, or that I won’t ever come back in full force, but…

I might just need to think about the recent developments for a while first, I guess. Maybe just focus on some other things in general anyways—It’s not like I don’t have stuff that needs attending to offline, after all.

Sorry if this leaves a sour taste in anyone’s mouth, and I’m not trying to dampen anyone else’s joy or excitement about the new developments. I just feel a bit down about the way things are going, and I needed to vent about those feelings a bit.

…I do want to emphasize again how much I loved Moon and Solar’s reaction today, though, because that was really, really excellent.

#SAMS #sun and moon show

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xieyaohuan · 7 months

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Public Relations

Cozy Corner Kinktober prompt: Voyeurism

Warnings: voyeurism. I feel like I should add more warnings, but I'm not sure what the right keywords are. So here is your warning for the general disturbingness of the way things are wired in Homelander's brain.

When the first complaints came in, they were considered a bit of a running joke inside the company. For almost three months, each time this came up in a PR meeting, someone would crack a joke along the lines of “Well, he’s just doing what any good hero should do: watching over the citizens of New York,” and everyone would chuckle and move on.

That, at least, was what Madelyn's sources told her later when she made her inquiries.

She had heard rumors that Homelander was doing something that people at the company found amusing, but it seemed harmless enough, no more than the usual gossip mill, really, so she didn't bother asking for details.

That was a mistake, of course. As always with these kinds of things, at some point, the right person picked up the phone, bumping it up the chain of command. By the time Stan Edgar decided to inform Madelyn that there was a problem, it had been escalated to the board.

At first, Madelyn didn't want to believe it. “He’s doing what?”

Mr. Edgar simply handed her a USB drive. “We’ve been tracking him for months now. He’s discreet enough 90% of the time, but he’s been spotted more than once.”

Madelyn stared at the flash disc in her hand. “How bad is it?”

“We’re sorting out social media as we speak, but I’m going to be honest with you, we barely managed to keep the footage off the 9 PM news. You’re going to have to take action, Madelyn, and fast. We can’t keep having these complaints or someone in this city is going to run on an anti-Vought platform next election cycle.”

That was almost certainly an exaggeration. Still, Madelyn sees his point when she watches the footage. It’s disturbing. It has to stop.

She brings it up the next time Homelander barges into her office unannounced. It’s a bad habit he’s picked up lately, and she hates it with a passion. If this will help discourage him, all the better.

“You’ve been outside the Tower a lot lately.”

“Mh-mhm,” he says. “Yeah. That's right. You told me to go out more. Make some friends. Right? I’ve been making friends. You were right. Having friends is great. Turns out I really like having friends.”

“I see.” She’s not offended he’s trying to spin this into a win, just that his attempt is so crude. But she also has to be careful how she phrases the next part. “Listen. I don’t want to pry. But it seems you’ve been doing some things that are… unsettling to people.”

“Mh-mhmm.” He nods, but the artificial smile has dropped off his face. “Like what?”

Wordlessly, Madelyn presses the remote control of her TV. The video is dark because it was taken during the middle of the night, but the camera has unmistakably captured a person hovering in the air. The number of supes who could do that for hours on end is already limited, but as if that wasn’t enough, the US flag cape floats into vision each time a gust of wind lifts it. It’s Homelander, fifty feet above the ground, his eyes glowing slightly every once in a while in an otherwise expressionless face, staring intently at the brick wall of someone's Upper Westside home. (It would be less disturbing if he was peeking through the window, she thinks.)

When he starts rubbing himself through his pants, Madelyn turns the TV off. It only gets worse from here; she really doesn't have to watch again. She has no clue who lives behind those walls and what they’re doing, though she can take a good guess.

“I think you get the picture.”

Homelander doesn’t say anything.

“This was sent to us anonymously,” she continues. That’s a lie. People did film him, that was what started this whole mess with the board. But this here is Vought’s very own footage, captured by one of its many panoramic cameras spread across the City. But their mere existence is on a need to know basis, and Homelander most certainly does not need to know the company has been using them to track him. “It goes on for 75 minutes.” Only because the full 8 hour footage the panorama camera captured didn’t fit on the drive, but Homelander doesn’t need to know that, either. “Do you have anything to say?”

“It’s not illegal!” He counters. It’s the latest line he’s been trying on her whenever she finds fault with something he’s doing, and it’s annoying Madelyn more than she cares to admit. But his face has turned red, and he knows he’s in trouble.

“It is, actually,” she says. “It is quite illegal to masturbate in public.” She puts the remote down. “But that’s not the point. What it is is damaging. It’s damaging to you, damaging to the Seven, and it’s very damaging to the company.”

He doesn’t try to talk back this time — dismiss her concern or argue about the definition of public and whether fifty feet up in the air counts, as she feared he might. Instead, he’s just standing there, biting his lip, avoiding her gaze.

“I thought we were over this,” Madelyn says, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. “You’d been so good lately. Listening to me, always. I thought I could trust you. And then you go and harm us like this.”

His arms are locked behind his back, his nose twitching as he’s struggling not to cry in front of her. She knows each word she’s saying stings like a lash would an ordinary person, the pain building, until finally, he bursts into tears. She could read him the comments under one of the videos Vought just managed to have removed from V-Tube, but she can tell that won’t be necessary.

“Come here.” She pats her lap, and after brief hesitation, he kneels down in front of her, resting his head on her knees. She runs her hand through his hair, tracing his ears with her fingertips before settling on softly scratching his scalp.

Earlier, she was afraid he would protest, maybe argue with her, deny what he did, but as long as she keeps scratching his head, he stays quiet, content, rubbing his face against her skirt, breathing in her scent.

“Promise me,” Madelyn says. “Promise me you won’t do this again. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I can get it for you. If you want a girlfriend, I’ll find you a nice, young woman your age. You don’t have to watch other people through the walls. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. I’ll take good care of you.”

As if to emphasize her words, she bends down to place a kiss on his cheek.

She can feel him shudder in her lap, but he knows it’s the end of their routine. He takes another deep, long breath as if he could somehow conserve the moment in his lungs.

“We’re issuing a statement,” she says as he gets to his feet. “Letting the public know you’ve been helping the FBI with a drug investigation.”

“Thank you, Madelyn. Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“We’re also telling the public that the investigation is over. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

He’s almost at her door when he turns around, a curious look on his face. “Did you know that babies don’t eat like we do?”

“Yes. Yes, Homelander.” Madelyn sighs. He’s been obsessed with babies lately. It’s an obsession she finds puzzling and irritating in equal parts. “Babies don’t eat solid food like us. They drink milk. They should have taught you that as part of your general curriculum in the lab.”

“Of course.” He waves his hand at her dismissively. There’s a smile, just for a fraction of a second. “What I mean is, they don’t eat three meals per day, like we do. They feed every hour or so. Some of them even stay latched on to their mother’s breasts all night long. They don’t really drink the whole time, you know. I guess they just like the feeling of having something in their mouth.”

“Yeah,” Madelyn says, impatient to get him out of her office. Now that this is settled, she can get back to work. “I suppose they do.”

He’s about to open his mouth again, but Madelyn knows how to shut him down. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” She smiles. He knows her impatient smile.

He hesitates for a second, then shakes his head.

Madelyn nods approvingly. “Alright. And remember, whatever you need, I can get it for you. All you have to do is ask.”

Madelyn sits back down behind her desk as he waves goodbye and stumbles out of her office.

Homelander is long gone by the time his last words fully sink in and she has to pause her typing because she’s suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. She can’t even say what exactly it is that she finds so disturbing about what she just realized. After all, it doesn’t really matter who’s behind that wall and what they are doing, whether they’re having sex or feeding a baby. All that matters is what gets caught on camera. Still. She's going to have to get ahead of this one this time.

She picks up the phone and calls 82.

#homelander x anonymous #homelander x madelyn stillwell #homewell #prompt: voyeurism #voyeurism tw #homelander's brain tw #cozy corner kinktober #the boys #my fic #disturbing stuff I wrote while stuck on a plane lol

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zilabee · 1 year

Text

- The first time I watched Get Back (which is the only other time I've watched Get Back) this was the day where I realised how much a mish mash mess the entire editing of it was, because obviously I know the tapes of day eight much better than the tapes of other days. (on account of it being the day where Paul and John use George as nothing but an excuse to talk about their own broken up feelings and confused affections.)

- Wonderfully, @inspiteallthedanger and @get-back-homeward posted about the cuts and snips in the lunchroom tapes, and how frustrating and impossible it all is, here. So I don't have to kill myself trying to explain how WEIRD the resulting 'conversation' Peter Jackson came up with is. What a strange strange thing he did.

- I'm aware that the art of documentary is cutting bits out, and I know they couldn't put it all in. But I do find it tiring. Even not lunchtime, but all the conversations, all the days. I just want to know what they look like at the appropriate points without having to double guess and think and disregard. We're not allowed that though, until some kind soul steals the full footage and gifts us pure wonder, so unless you can really see their lips move, it's only a mirage.

- But! the full 20 seconds that is given over to watching Paul looking sad where nobody says anything at all is the best 20 seconds Peter Jackson ever spent.

- Paul explaining that obstacles aren't obstacles if you refuse to acknowledge any sadness in your life think about obstacles. I mean he's not untrue, it's not not true, he could make a motivational poster.

- So proud of his terrible news bulletins idea. I actually do think ending a massive spectacular show by having a quiet man come on and quietly announce that you've broken up could be nice though. But really I'm just in love with the fact that instead of worrying about breaking up, Paul has been turning it into a project they can all work on together. (And thinking about how to make it suitably big and show-off break up, because it's the Beatles - I love that he worries about their legacy. George and John are so weighted down by legacy, and Paul's just like 'it's only hard if we don't live up to it, so we should just live up to it'. He's such a lot, but he's true.)

Linda: But you were saying yesterday, you know... you make good music together whether you like it or not. John: I like it. Linda: And making good music is also... John: But it's just... Linda: It's really hard working in a relationship. John: I know.

- I love that they call it feeling guilty about each other.

- I love that when John is talking about how hard it is when Paul won't give in on arrangements, he specifically says that he wants it to work more like it works when they're writing. It soothes me in its easy acknowledgement that the writing is good. (even while he's destroying it I know)

- Paul jokingly saying 'You stay out of this, Yoko' to Linda when she is joining in the conversation is probably one of the first times that joke was made, where it's now a recognisable joke to almost every english speaking person in the world.

- SHUT UP I CANNOT STAND IT. (Literally no idea at what point of the thing I wrote this down but I stand by it.)

- I hope they didn't tell George they only wanted him back as a matter of policy. <333333333

When we're very old we'll all agree with each other and we'll all sing together.

- I love him talking about how it all works better if they sing properly instead of just singing half. I love that they just need to be young again and they're not young, since Brian died they haven't been at all young.

- Love John wanting someone to fact check Paul in case Tucson wasn't actually in Arizona. His surrealism does not stretch to inaccurate geography.

Ringo: The meeting was fine. A lot of good things, but then you know... they all sort of fell apart in the end.

Ringo accidentally writing a perfect little synopsis of the Beatles.

- "I don't feel like the Beatles revolve around the four people. It might be a fucking job." John trying to invent The Plastic Beatles. Or make it a bit like national service for rockstars. Everyone dreading the fucking letter that means they have to leave their families and their homes and their happy bands to go and live in a cauldron with Paul and John for a few months.

MLH: I think at some point we should talk conceptually about the show. Everyone prepares to leave.

#get back #get back january #the beatles #the lunchroom tapes #sorry this is long #but so much I left out because I couldn't wrangle thoughts #about paul and john and their ridiculous wordings #it could have been much worse #get back words

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callsignspark · 1 year

Text

anything for you | part one

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Rebecca Hermann (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied violence against women/children, discussions of murder (nothing explicit/gory), inaccuracies about hotel ownership, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 4.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist

note: I wrote and edited this in about eight hours on Tuesday last week and then got my appendix out on Wednesday, so it's a bit later than I said it would be. Some friends and moots are tagged at the end, have a good weekend!

Friday, February 10, 2023 | San Diego, CA | 2100 PST

It was late. Later than she ever worked. But the project was done, the week was over, and now the weekend could be enjoyed. Daydreams of a hot bath and chocolate are interrupted by an alert from her security system.

Someone is in her house.

A quick review of the cameras told her it was one of the idiots that hung around her father – the insignia on his jacket sleeve a dead giveaway – and her heart rate slightly slowed. She would have to find out the identity of the man in her home once she got there. Whoever it was, he was lucky enough to avoid facing the cameras but apparently not smart enough to realize they were there. Maybe she’d introduce him to the baseball bat that had a permanent home in her trunk. Pedal to the floor, she stewed in her anger on the drive home and created a simple six-step plan:

1. Park around the corner to avoid detection. 2. Sneak through Mrs. Klempner's backyard. (Do not destroy the roses.) 3. Review live footage and determine best entry point. 4a. If identity of man is unknown – subdue with baseball bat. 4b. If identity of man is known... subdue with baseball bat anyway. 5. Deal with idiot once consciousness is regained. 6. Suffer consequences from dipshit father at a later time.

As she slips through the gate of her back fence, arms covered in scratches from rose bushes and rage simmering in her chest, she reminds herself to be grateful that her neighbor's overgrown rat of a dog (and her mortal enemy) is already inside. A normal day would find Rufus barking from sunrise to whenever the elderly Mrs. Klempner remembered to let him back in the house. Taking his unnaturally high anger level out at anything and everything from the mailman (who agreed the obese Jack Russell terrier was a spawn of the devil himself) to a leaf that dared to fall within a 50-foot radius of his dog house.

"Never barks at anything actually important, though, stupid four-legged ball of blubber." She mutters to herself as she hides under the dining room window. "Okay, fuck head, let's see where you are."

Flicking through the feeds, she finds the man standing in her kitchen with his back still to the camera, drinking from one of the nice crystal glasses gifted to her by her mother. The nerve of this man!

Stashing her phone away, she peeks through the dining room window, only to find her mystery guest rummaging through her freshly stocked fridge. Her mouth drops when he comes back out with one of the peanut butter hearts she had bought herself as a Valentine's Day treat. I haven’t even had one of those yet!

She doesn’t recognize the blonde man just from his ridiculously wide shoulders, but she does notice the flex of his arms as he unwraps the stolen sweet. None of the guys in her father’s crew are that broad. That means it’s someone from the Daggers. Which can only mean bad news. Or maybe she’ll get lucky, and the intruder will have news that her father is dead. Then he turns, she can feel the blood drain from her face as nausea creeps up her throat – luck was not on her side tonight. She knows the man standing in her kitchen.

Jacob Seresin. The Hangman.

Using the shadows of her house as cover, she slowly begins to move back toward the fence gate, trying to give her scrambling brain time to think of a new plan.

1. Slowly, quietly move to the gate – keep eyes on the house the whole time. 2. Sprint back to the car. Hit the highway. Head south. 3. At the first rest stop, pull as much cash from the ATM as possible. 4. Buy gas, scissors, hair dye, and as much non-perishable food as possible on a credit card. 5. Repeat steps 3 and 4 two more times. Create a paper trail. Keep moving south. 6. At the third stop: ditch cards, phone, and ID in the garbage on the way out. 7. Continue south for another 10 miles, then swing back to the north. 8. Head for Canada. Drive safe. Don't get pulled over – remember, no ID. 9. Once in Seattle, contact Vinnie for help crossing the-

"Where do you think you're going?"

The next ninety seconds happen fast. In just a few moments, the bat is swiped from her hand, and her mouth is bound with what she can only hope is a clean cloth. Two sets of hands restrain her arms, and a third her ankles. But only after she makes contact with someone’s family jewels. The satisfaction at the sound of his grunt and the thump of him dropping to his knees doesn’t last long as she’s dragged toward her own home. All of her attempts to break free or scream for help are woefully unsuccessful.

The back door opens, the silhouette of The Hangman filling the frame. "Will you get her inside already?"

"Something isn't right, Jake." The tall, bespectacled man on her left grunts, struggling to get the wiggling woman into the house without hurting her.

"She's been fighting us the entire way! Bob, let go; I’m just gonna carry her in." The even taller brunette on her right throws her into a fireman's carry and brings her into the house. "I don't think she knows what's going on."

"Ya fucking think, Bradshaw? Just get her in a chair and make sure she can't move. Where the fuck is Javy?"

A man with a thick mustache chokes back laughter. "Oh man, he took the bat out of her hands, and she got him right in the balls. Direct hit. Took him right down to his fucking knees. He's still out there trying to catch his breath."

"Someone, please go get him." The exasperation is clear in his voice, and even as she fights getting tied to a dining room chair, she can't help but think that the most feared man in the city looks exhausted.

"You don't know why I'm here, do you?"

The question catches her by surprise, allowing the men to finish securing her feet. She hadn't been directly addressed since being grabbed in the backyard. She stares at him, hoping her expression properly conveys the "I can't speak because your fucking goons gagged me, you idiot" that she's trying to project.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

She knows her "yeah fucking right" comes through clearly because he huffs a laugh.

"I'm not. And clearly, your father didn't tell you I would be here tonight, or you wouldn't be tied to a chair right now." The room’s attention is stolen by movement at the back door, "You alright, Machado?"

"I'm fine.”

“Man, she got you good!” A curly-haired man crows at him.

“Garcia! Shut up, all of you!” He hisses at the men trying not to laugh before nodding at his boss. “I'll be okay."

"Good. Would hate for your lovely wife to not get those children she so dearly wants." He crouches in front of her, "Now, back to you. I'm not here to hurt you, so I'm going to take this off, explain why we're here, and you're not going to scream. Do you understand?"

She takes a second before nodding, only agreeing because the cloth in her mouth is starting to make her gag reflex act up. "Alright, lean forward a little bit."

She does as she's told, slightly shaking as his hands come uncomfortably close to her neck. She knows what damage those hands could do; what damage they have done. She closes her eyes, and next week’s headlines light up her eyelids like a Broadway marquee.

Local woman found strangled in her San Diego home.

Local woman with ties to organized crime found tied to dining room chair.

Local woman unfairly paying for the crimes of her idiot father at the hands of his boss, city's wealthiest entrepreneur.

“Hey, open your eyes. Look at me, Rebecca.” The command is given gently but firmly. She obeys, not wanting to upset him now that she has no hope of escape. “There we go. Oh shit. Please don’t cry; I’m not here to hurt you. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already.”

“Forgive me, but you’ll have to excuse me for not believing you.” She sniffles, tears escaping without permission, voice shaking even as she snarks at him. “Especially since you mentioned my father.”

“You’re like he said you would be. You know who I am, then?” Amusement dances in his eyes and his smile sharpens when she nods. “Who am I?”

“Jacob Seresin: CEO and chairman of Eagle Hotels and Resorts. But better known around the city as “The Hangman” – head of the Daggers.” Her resolve strengthens, and she vows not to show any more weakness. “How did you get in my house?”

“Very good. You can call me Jake.” His smug, condescending tone brings her blood back up to boil.

“Okay, Jake.” She spits his name back at him. “Why are you here? What did my father do?”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Six months ago, on my sister’s birthday. How did you-”

“Delilah, right?” He interrupts, waiting for her confirmation. “I’ve met her a few times. She seems like a good kid.”

“She is.” Her words are almost silent, heart pounding from the terrifying knowledge that this man knows who her sister is. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t reply; instead stands and grabs a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge, “Got any straws?”

“Why are you here?” Her voice is stronger again, more concerned with why her baby sister is part of the conversation than the beverage needs of the dangerous man shuffling through her kitchen drawers.

He tuts at her, “One thing at a time. Where are your straws?”

“Why are you-” She cuts herself off, sighing when it becomes clear that he’s not going to stop until she answers his question. “Drawer to the right of the stove, clear container.”

“Oh, reusable kinda gal, huh? Save the turtles and all that? Rock on.” He grabs a chair and sits across from her, so close that their knees touch, before cracking the bottle and plopping the straw in. “Take a sip. I’m sure your throat is sore from all the screaming.”

She shifts forward, hesitant but willing to drink it since she saw him open it. She thanks him, the manners her mother instilled in her automatically coming out, and immediately scolds herself for being kind to the monstrous man in front of her.

“You’re welcome.” He sets the bottle on the table and leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest. “What do you know about the Daggers?”

“Not much. Why are you here?”

“You’re very stubborn; has anyone ever told you that? Explain how much “not much” is, and I’ll answer your questions.”

“I know how the Dagger Organization was formed. I know you’re the head of the Daggers, a position you inherited from your father, who inherited it from his father, and so on. You have a large group of advisors made up of two smaller groups. One group you trust because they’re your people. I’m guessing the men in my kitchen are part of that group.” She takes a beat, glancing at the five men around her island, pretending not to listen. “The other group, not so much. They were your father’s advisors, and more than one of them is rumored to be the reason you inherited your position. My father is part of that group, and likely the one you trust the least, given how he was your father’s right-hand man at the time of his death. Not to mention the fact that he’s a huge idiot. That’s all I know; I don’t understand how the hierarchy works or anything like that. Why are you here?”

His eyebrows raise – surprised or impressed, she can’t tell. “You know more than I thought you would by your “not much” response.”

“Yeah, well, gotta know your family history, right?” He stifles a laugh at her sarcastic tone. Her father warned of an attitude, but he didn’t mention her sense of humor. “How did you get in?”

“If I untie you, you gonna try to run?” He avoids the question, lips quirking when she squirms at his eyes running up and down her body, trying to assess if she’ll fight him when she’s untied. “Or kick Javy in the crotch again? His wife really is hoping to get a few kids out of him.”

“I won’t run.” She confirms, then mutters to herself, “It’s not like I would get very far anyway…”

He hums in agreement as he moves to free her legs first. “You’re a smart one.”

“I do alright.”

“Rebecca, I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. A bachelor’s degree in mathematics and two master's degrees? Seem pretty damn smart to me.” He moves behind her chair to unite her hands. “How are your wrists, sweetheart? Did Bradshaw do it too tight? I’ll let you take a shot at him if it was too much.”

She forces herself to ignore how her stomach flips at the term of endearment and the way his hand gently rubs her shoulder on his way back to his chair. She examines her wrists and rotates them to check for injury, reminding herself of the games men like him play. It’s not real. He brought up Delilah as a threat. It’s not real. He’s being kind, so you’ll trust him, and that’s when bad things happen. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not-

“Do your wrists hurt?”

“They’re fine, thank you.” Her voice sharper than she means it to be. Calm down. Don’t give him a reason to make them hurt.

“You sure? They look a little red.”

“It’s fine; I’m sure it’ll go away soon.” His eyebrows lift in doubt as she rubs her wrists, trying to soothe the slight rope burn she got from struggling.

Play him back, don’t give him the upper hand. “I was sorry to hear about your dad; he was always kind to me.”

“Drink some more Gatorade.” His voice is stiffer than before.

Bullseye.

She looks up from her wrists, eyes darting between the orange liquid and the man opposite her. When she doesn’t move, he nods at the bottle, a silent order to drink. He continues on after she complies, looking pleased. “What do you know about the Tomcat arrangement?”

She shakes her head. “I know it exists. I heard my father mention it once or twice in passing; when I still lived at his house, but I don’t know what it is. You still haven’t answered my questions.”

“When my great-great-grandfather created the Daggers, he did it with three other families.”

“The Bradshaws, the Kazanskys, and the Hermanns.”

“Yes, as you know, Albert Hermann – your great-great-grandfather – was one of the four founding members. What started as equal power between the four families changed over time. My family ended up as the leaders, and an agreement was made during our great-grandfather’s time. First, so long as there is a male heir to lead the next generation, the Seresins stay as the lead family. The other three families remain at the top of the chain of command. The leader taking their advice and counsel. His most trusted allies. The second part of the agreement is that whenever possible, the heir – the future leader – will marry a daughter of one of the other families. To keep the power balanced as much as possible between the families. As a way of ensuring that the Seresins don’t end up with too much power. And now that I’ve taken over my father, it’s time for me to get married.”

She stays quiet, stomach twisting at the information. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Rebecca, your family is the only family with the right lineage and daughters suitable enough to satisfy the Tomcat arrangement.”

“Daughters? Daughters! My sister is being considered?!” She lunges at him. “She’s eighteen! You vile, disgusting pig! You fucking piece of shit!”

“Will you stop it?” He easily stops her attack, her five-and-a-half-foot frame no match against his six-foot-two body. She struggles against his hold on her wrists, unwilling to stop fighting until she gets a decent hit. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to tie you back up.”

When she doesn’t listen, he flips her around, gathers both wrists behind her back, bends her over the dining room table, and uses his weight to keep her in place, “Enough.”

It kills the fight in her. “She’s only eighteen! She’s just a baby! I was trying to get her out of there. I was supposed to get her out of there! I promised! I promised I would. I promised…” Sobs wrack her body, choking the words in her throat.

The house is silent except for her crying, the sound amplified from where her face is pressed against the table.

“Stop crying. Please stop crying. Jesus, your fucking father was supposed to have explained this to you already.” Jake sighs, resting his head against her shoulder blade. Nothing had gone in his favor today. “I don’t want to marry your sister.”

Her heart skips a beat, and her voice is thick with tears when she asks, “...what?”

“I don’t want to marry her. She’s practically a child. C’mon, take a drink.” He lets her up and grabs a tissue from the sideboard in her dining room. “Per the Tomcat agreement, after taking control, if I’m not already married, I have six months to get engaged to a woman who meets the requirements of the agreement. And then a year to marry her. My advisors reminded me today that I only have two months left to get engaged. Your father ever so kindly reminded me that your family is the only one with women that meet the Tomcat terms. He was quick to offer your sister to me, who I refused even quicker. She’s young enough I could practically be her father. It has to be you.”

“No.” Her answer comes swift and firm. No more playing into her father’s hand.

“If you refuse, he’ll kill you – he’ll do it himself if he has to – and then he’ll force your sister to marry me. And I won’t be able to stop it.”

She scoffed as she wiped at her nose, “You are the most powerful man in the city, probably the fucking state. To say you couldn’t stop it is absolutely ridiculous!”

“I wish that were true, but there’s still too many of the old guard, too many stuck in the ways of our fathers and grandfathers. I refuse, they’ll kill me, and your sister will be forced to marry one of my uncles – for the sake of keeping the Seresin name in power. Or worse, your father will try to take control, and god knows what will happen if he gets a taste of any real power.” He takes a breath, trying to gauge the reaction of his future bride. “I know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what I want either, having these archaic rules forced on us. But if we don’t play along, things will get much worse.”

“I- I… is this really the only way my sister stays safe?”

He didn’t think he had ever seen such sadness before and tried to answer as gently as possible. “I’m sorry, Rebecca, but it is.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

“I guarantee she’ll be safe from harm of the Daggers. You know I can’t promise anything more than that.”

She nods, eyes distant as she thinks before she straightens and looks him in the eye. “I have conditions.”

“I really don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands.”

“I think I am, actually. Sure, if I refuse, I end up dead. But so do you. And my father will make your family’s life a living hell, I have no doubt. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being a bastard to women. Besides, they’re not demands; they’re… conditions – compromises, really – and quite simple ones at that.”

He grits his teeth, knowing she’s right and wishing she wasn’t quite so smart. “Fine. What are your conditions?”

“My sister is allowed to do whatever she wants. And we’ll pay for it, whatever it is. If she wants to go to college, her tuition is fully funded. If she wants to stay in San Diego, volunteering at animal shelters and surfing all day long, we’ll buy an apartment for her. I don’t care what she does, as long as it’s her choice, and she doesn’t have to live with my father anymore.”

“Agreed. We’ll get her out of there as soon as the wedding is over. What else?”

“She can’t know the circumstances of my agreement. She’ll obviously know why I’m the one you’re marrying – why we’re getting married in the first place, she’s not an idiot – but she can’t know that she was the one offered up by my father and I’m only doing this to save her.”

“Done. What else?”

“I know we’ll have to announce our engagement, but I need a month before we take it public. That’s how long I need to give my notice at work and do a proper turnover so I don’t screw my team over.”

“You don’t have to quit, you know? You can keep working if you want to.”

“I know, but let’s face it, as the wife of one of California’s most widely known men – in good ways and bad – it’d be hard to keep working like I do now. And with your reputation, there would be cries of corruption and protests. I’d end up constantly harassed by press and, honestly, probably my coworkers. They’re not exacting your biggest fans. But I do want to keep working. I can’t be someone who sits at home all day, not having anything to do. I’ll go crazy.”

“We’ll find you something at Eagle. Anything you want – the business side, the volunteer and charity team, anything. Or you can start something of your own. We’ll figure it out, Rebecca.”

She breaks eye contact for a second, feeling flustered under the intensity of his attention.“I assume I’ll be moving in with you?”

He nods, “I’d actually like you to do that as soon as possible. You’ve always had a target on you because of your father, but being with me just makes it grow a hundred times. I want one of my people with you wherever you go out in public. Not only will our rivals be a problem, but I’m not counting your father out either.”

“My sister gets a guard too. Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I would do anything to protect her. She is my- our biggest vulnerability.”

“Done. What else?”

“If I’m moving in with you, I’d like to sell this house. And the money from the sale will be mine.”

“You don’t have to worry about money. You’ll have full access to all of my accounts.”

“The money will go into my account that you will not have access to.”

“I’m not going to steal from you.”

“I’m not worried about you stealing. It’s to protect myself… just in case.”

His face softens in understanding. “The money will go into your account, which I will not have access to. I will pay for the realtor and any fees associated with the sale; you’ll get to keep as much as possible.”

“That’s not necessary; I can pay for-”

“I’m sure you can. But I’m going to anyway.” He holds up his hand when she attempts to protest. “You’re not going to win this one, so save it for another fight. What else?”

“Fine.” She huffs an annoyed breath out of her nose. “I’ll need to update my will to account for all of these changes.”

“I was already planning on bringing in the lawyers; we’ll get everything set before the engagement announcement.”

“I’d like my own lawyer to review everything.”

“You have a lawyer? Why?”

“Does it matter?” Her voice is sharp again, but it’s different this time – the word defensive flashes in his mind.

“No, I’m just surprised. Who is it? We’ll get them on retainer, but their office will be solely dedicated to you.”

“Peter Spartz of the Spartz Brothers.”

“Really? He’s good. I’ll have the legal team set up a meeting to get everything in place. What else?”

“I want to manage the size of the wedding. I know between Eagle and the Daggers, you have an obligation to invite a ridiculous amount of people, and they are all welcome to come to the reception. But I want the ceremony itself to be as small as possible. I don’t want to get up there and vow myself to you in front of a thousand of your closest business associates if I don’t have to.”

“We can do that. What else do you want for the wedding?”

“What do you mean?”

Her confusion confuses him. “What do you mean “what do I mean”? What do you want the wedding to look like? Flowers? Your dress?”

“Oh, I guess we actually have to plan a wedding. Fuck.” She looked annoyed at the prospect of having to plan their nuptials. “I really don’t care what we do.”

“You don’t care what your wedding looks like?”

“I- no? Should I? It’s not like we’re doing this because we love each other. Or even like each other. We’re fulfilling an obligation our grandfathers put in place a million years ago so that we don’t end up in shallow graves in the middle of the Mojave. Besides, I don’t know how you would even begin to plan a wedding…” Her voice trails off, slightly embarrassed that she isn’t prepared with this information already.

“That’s fine. We can get a wedding planner. My mom can help, our sisters can too. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine.”

“You’re not going to help?”

“Oh, I’ll be giving input on the important things. Cake flavor, what’s being served for dinner, of course, the booze, and the honeymoon… But the only thing that matters to me is that we're legally married by the end of the night. I don’t care what it looks like to get us there, just as long as you like it.”

Her face twists deeper, unhappy at the thought of having to make all the decisions by herself. “So, if I make our colors Barbie pink and vomit yellow, force you to wear a kilt that’s five inches long – even though you’re not Scottish – and insist that we decorate with nothing but rare and expensive orchids that you’re extremely allergic to, you’re going to be good with that?”

“I’m fine with all of that.” He smirks at the surprise and annoyance on her face. “Oh, don’t be shocked, sweetheart. Like I said, whatever you want. Happy wife, happy life, and all that. Anything else before I propose, you say yes, and we live mildly ever after?”

“One more thing.”

“Anything for you, my dear.” His teasing tone makes her smile briefly, but it disappears as quickly as it came, her expression hardening.

“This one stays between us,” she nods towards the kitchen.

“Out, now.” His men move immediately, the soon-to-be-married couple watching them file out the back door.

She turns to him once it clicks shut, face made of stone and eyes full of fire. “I don’t care how it gets done. If you do it yourself, if you have someone else do it, it can be messy, or you can make it look like an accident – maybe it looks like a heart attack. I don’t care. But the first time the opportunity presents itself: you kill my father.”

The Hangman appears before her very eyes, his smile sending chills down her spine and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. For the first time all evening, she truly sees the blonde in front of her as the ruthless, cold-blooded man he’s known to be.

“Anything for you, my dear.”

tagging:

credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick AU #top gun fic #top gun AU #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #anything for you #anything for you fic #AFY fic #elle writes

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heliosthegriffin · 1 year

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I got thrown across the multiverse, and all I got were these lame scars

Summary: Jaune’s doing .... alright, better than before at least. Currently, he’s living with his sister and her wife in Argus doing odd jobs, catching up with his education and paying his tutor, while also trying to remember how to read and write properly in Remnants tongue and script.

It’s not easy settling back in, especially after how his trip was, and his was pretty bad, the multiverse is a brutal place, and he had a extended seven year trip that started when he was just twelve.

Now at least, it seemed he was back for good, and as far as worlds went, Remnant was far from the worse, at least they’re wasn’t anybody plotting world destruction, right?

------

It was rare, or at least was rare, that Saphron and Terra got to enjoy a night out, ever since Adrian had been conceived they were too busy planning and adjusting they’re lives for when he would be born.

Party nights, going out with friends, drinking and having sushi, that was all forgotten about, they had a new life to care for and grow together, and they needed to prepare for him and make sure he would be healthy.

And, that life style continued for almost two years, including Terra’s pregnancy, them practically becoming hermits, as they cared for they’re son together, it was tough, but both of them considered it a high-point of they’re relationship, and sign of how well they went together.

Then, he showed up, Saphron’s long-lost, presumed dead, little brother, Jaune Arc.

Everything changed, immediately, it had been sheer coincident that they met at a diner he was working at, Greasy Eddie’s, Terra thought it was called, they had been leaving the port, and were hungry enough to not care how bad the food was for them.

Then Adrian started crying, like he was trying to get they’re attention, and then Terra saw those blue eyes, that same eyes as her wife, and Saphron dropped her scroll, and in a blur of motion, she hugging him, bawling her eyes out.

Terra could hardly believe her own eyes, the last time she had seen him, he was a little boy waving to her across a scroll screen, and then, Saphron turned around for what was must have been five second, and he was gone, just gone, not trace or sign, with the footage at the CCT Terminal they had been at just showed him there one frame, and gone the next.

It was impossible to rule it as Semblance based interference, as no signs of Aura were found, and Semblances, as random and powerful as they were, followed physics in some weird way, and based on evidence, or lack there of, it was judged that it would have to be several different powerful semblances at work at once to pull off.

Something impossible, considering this was a CCT that was guarded by several people with Huntsman training, someone would have to sensed something, anything, and yet nothing.

And, all that for some kid, of a huntsman yes, but not even a particularly well-known one. It just didn’t add up.

It made inter-kingdom news, from Vacuo to Mistral, with even Menagerie chimed in on the case. Specialist from across the world tried to solve the case, not all of them out of the good of they’re heart, others for the fame, and others to have a trained huntsman in they’re pocket.

They all failed.

The case was closed, and Jaune was consider dead by the world at large.

Saphron and her sisters, the rest of her family, all the Arcs, they never gave up.

And, her he was, in some dingy diner next to the port, that smelled of rotten fish, vomit, and urine.

Terra couldn’t believe her eyes, or his reaction.

He froze, not he didn’t freeze, he jerked back, trying to gain distance and for a couple moments, Terra feared for her wife’s life, as she saw the glazed, cold look in his eyes, his hands a blur, before the words that she was sobbing out, hit him.

She didn’t even see where he got the knife from.

Then he froze, stiffly, as though a hug was a unfamiliar gesture to him. He looked at her, like he was seeing something familiar, and putting together the pieces, mumbling out a dozen different words, that Terra had no clue what they could mean.

It was several long moments before Terra understood what he said, as he said the right word. “Sssisster?” He asked awkwardly, in a very odd, untraceable accent.

Saphron only tightened her hug, and Jaune moved to hug back, with both arm, but stopped himself, letting his right arm fall away, and hugged her tightly with his left.

Then she essentially dragged him over to the table, and little Adrian practically jumped into what should have been a strangers arms. Terra probably should have expected that, Arc’s were just weird like that, she sword they could sense each other via proximity, or to that effect.

Terra was stunned and quiet listening to her wife fire question after question at her brother, all while he cradled his nephew for the first time, awe upon his face looking at the child.

Then it came time to leave, and they didn’t, Saphron made them wait until his shift was over, then told him, in a tone that offered no other option, he was coming back with them.

He seemed confused, it took her a couple tries to get the point across, it was like he had trouble understanding they’re words, well Saphrons words. Terra had found herself too, unbelieving she supposed, to say anything.

It seemed to good to be true. Everything changed, her brother in law was there, living in they’re spare bedroom, when he wasn’t doing ... something, he was cleaning they’re house, cooking, or helping taking care of Adrian. It was like she had suddenly gotten a little brother and housekeeper in one package.

And, they could start going out and having a social life again.

Like tonight, going out with a couple from her work, eating at a fine restaurant, and walking home.

Terra was disgusted with herself at the fact that she didn’t trust Jaune as far as she could throw him, and he was much heavier than she was strong.

“I don’t like this,” Terra said, after they were within sprinting distance of they’re house. “Adrian’s still young, we need to be careful who influences him, he needs his mothers around to give him good examples while we still can,”

Saphron gave her wife a side-long glance, her eyes digging into her. “Are you saying that my brother’s a bad influence?”

Terra wanted to say yes, so badly yes, but Saphron was no longer rational around her brother, no Arc was around Jaune, so she had to pick her words carefully. “He needs help Saph, you know this,”

Saphron look at her with icy eyes for a half-second, before looking away softly. “He needs his family, Terra, I need him. Adrian deserves to know his uncle, and they say, boys need a strong male figure in they’re lives, Jaune can be that figure.”

“It’s not that he can’t,” Terra linked hands with Saphron, holding her hand tightly. “But, he’s off, his mind isn’t where it’s supposed to be, I mean, when was the last time you saw him sleep? Or when he does, when did it look like he hadn’t been crying?”

Saphron made a bitter expression. “I haven’t, but I don’t even want to imagine what he was like when he was alone, how painful that must of been, enduring what he had too by himself.”

Terra had too look away from Saphron’s genuine expression of concern for her brother, she had always been far more caring than Terra was, as far as she was concerned, that amount of people she loved was two.

But, even she had to admit, she felt immense pity for her brother-in-law.

It took her a moment, but she found another rebuttal. “Then, how painful must it be, if he doesn’t ever get himself treated? He can’t get better by himself, and we’re delaying the inevitable. What if he snaps and hurts-”

“Terra-Cotta Arc, don’t you ever! Ever! Say that about my brother!” Terra was force on the back foot, as Saphron rounded on her with a absolutely visceral snarl. “He would die for us! Kill for us, before he ever even consider the possibly of thinking about hurting Adrian, me, or you! So, take that nasty, terrible thought and lock it up, where the sun don’t shine, or so help me, I will show you the fury of a woman of the clan Arc!” Saphron panted red-faced, and Terra would admit she was death afraid of her wife when her temper was roused.

Also, attracted and very painfully aware of how shaky her legs became when she got like this.

“Are we, understood?” Saphron said with a tone that would be measured in the negative degrees.

Terra nodded, cheeks blushing.

“Good,” Saphron leaned in and took her hand, “Glad that we got that sorted out, now lets go check up on the boys, ok?”

Terra nodded weakly, she doubted she would be able to bring this topic up again, anytime soon, if ever.

It took mere minutes to get back home, and unlock the door, then disarm the security, and the tripwires, and the other defenses that Jaune had installed, much to Terra’s displeasure.

She was frowning as it happened, but the moment she stepped in, she was frozen, a soft lullaby was being sung, one that Terra had never heard before, one that she didn’t understand, as it sounded like it was being sung in a half-dozen tongues.

Her eyes watered, and she trembled, Saphron was openly crying, Terra noticed, and they followed the sound of the voice into the living room, where Jaune lay on the couch, cradling a sleeping Adrian a look of avuncular love on his face, singing what was both gibberish and a deeply moving song, if one knew the words.

Saphron tightened her grip, and Terra turned to look at her, a look of pride and smugness on her face, and Terra realized, that she was right, Jaune would never hurt them, any of them, not in any amount of years.

She knew that, as she and Saphron went to bed, but it didn’t change the fact, she didn’t trust Jaune, couldn’t trust Jaune, he set her hairs on end, and made her shiver with a look, he was trouble, and even if he would die for them, what did that mean, if they all got killed too?

He was dangerous, and she did not want danger around her baby, any mother would feel the same, if only Saphron could see that. It wasn’t the fact he had disappear for the better half of a decade, or the fact her nearly killed her wife, or that he might stunt Adrian’s social ability by talking to him in a language that only two people on Remnant would understand.

It was the fact, that trouble always attracted trouble, and Terra had a deep feeling, that Jaune was going to cause them so, so much trouble.

#Jaune Arc #Terra Cotta Arc #Saphron Cotta Arc #Adrian Cotta Arc

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dorizardthewizard · 4 months

Text

Galactik Football season 3 rewatch, eps 4 - 6

Episode 4:

Aww Tia and Thran talking about TV shows, I like seeing more interactions between characters we don't see together that often.

Also Tia looking out for D'jok by getting the video checked! We see her check up on him a couple of times in these episodes, I love their friendship. Here it's like a little reversal of when D'jok was looking out for her when the whole Rocket Netherball thing was going down

Hooooow does Thran's filter program somehow let him see what happened before the explosion?? That's not filtering anything out, it's straight up new footage!

Artegor putting his hand on Aarch's shoulder after D'jok's disappearance... they're such a divorced couple with messy history who still care about each other

Clamp: Without D'jok here, we don't have a captain!

A complete non-issue since D'jok only started being the captain because Rocket left, but he's back now so

THE KINGS, THE LEGENDS!!!

Aw that little moment of the Snow Kids being a little star struck, getting to play against Aarch and Artegor at their prime. Although I still don't know how that works exactly with the holo-trainer and their irl physical fitness but whatever

THEY'RE PLAYING IN PERFECT SYNC AS IF NO TIME HAS PASSED AAAAAAA

Standing all cool as they tell their Snow Kids to take a break and then immediately crumpling with their middle aged bones ajshahaha

Why does Sonny's English dub voice sound so forced now. "It COULD be a TRAP!!"

Aaaaand now D'jok's leaving as well, that was quick

Are they... you know 😳😳😳

No seriously Sonny's delivery just sells this ahahaha

I love team Paradisia's designs btw, very y2k. We've even got Clover from Totally Spies here!

Ok quick rant about the attempts at portraying "girl power":

Honestly idk about D'jok being annoyed they're all girls, this with the Elektra's comment earlier are examples of S3 being more heavy-handed like, “yeah these players are girls, but ACTUALLY that doesn't mean they're not good players!”. Compare this to the previous seasons where we just... had players that were really good and happened to be girls, and no one needed to comment on it? Like, Kernor is the top goal keeper and Lun-Zaera is the best striker for the Wambas, plus Tia was the Snow Kid's biggest weapon in season 1 so I don't think D'jok would immediately dismiss the girls like that. Maybe he would be disconcerted at being the only boy, but still. It's like in the lego n/in/ja/go movie where they were like “she's a GIRL, but she can still be a NINJA!” which has a weird psychological effect of actually enforcing to kids that there is some sort of disparity between men and women, when instead they could just portray her as an equal and let that do the talking, no need to manufacture sexism so you can call it out like “hey, we're so progressive!” (not that you can't have stories with that too, I just don't think it makes as much sense in this situation and shows a different approach than the first two seasons).

Rant over <3

NIKKI-4 IS TALLER THAN D'JOK YASSS

I like Team Paradisia's football outfits but what's the point of the visor?

They kind of have the Cyclops' style of attacking, lmao

D'jok you're such a bitch

Y'know at this point Aarch is like. Wow don't we have contracts with any of these kids? With notice periods?

I feel like S3 could have been more fun if the player switching had been more planned like, mix up the teams! The Snow Kids knew they'd have to get a player from another team but for some reason did not seem willing to let go one of their own, even though logically they would have to?

Artegor: He was bad for the team and we're better off without him!

Ah nice to see Artegor's no chill side still comes out sometimes

GASP! What a twist!

Episode 5:

Ooooh new name for a Ryker's player! Kinda wish it was the blue hair one just to distinguish easier lol

Nihla!! Although apparently Nihlis in secondary material. Not sure if it's clear what their gender is in the og French but I hc that the Shadows fuck around with gender anyway

Ok what, I remember this All Stars game happening but I thought it was later. I thought I skipped an episode for a second there because what, there was no mention of this mixed all stars game before at all??

also TIA SHOULD BE ON A TEAM

Nikki-4 sounds like the actual name Nikifor. heh

Rocket and Tia's H2O t-shirts! iconic nerds

My reaction to the Mice-delight advert breaks are the same reaction I have to any advert break

Ah ok so they were all contacted by other teams lol, in my mind Tia got contacted for the All Stars game but she turned them down because things were tumultuous for the Snow Kids and she wanted to be there for them <3

Also why are they dismayed that everyone's been contacted by other teams, that's kind of the point of this mixed flux tournament, no? It means they're good players!

Micro-Ice only got contacted by a fan club? WRITERS STOP CLOWNING ON MICE AND ONLY USING HIM FOR COMEDIC RELIEF HE IS A REALLY TALENTED PLAYER! Artie back me up

Ah ironic, Rocket can't make the flux jump and he falls, as opposed to season 2 when he saved Tia from a fall with the flux. Now I'm imagining Tia jumping up to save him and carrying him bridal style. It should have happened, writers

Rocket: Yeah I'm okay! Rocket: Actually, I take that back

We love a self-aware king who knows his limits <3

Christ it's just disaster after disaster for the Snow Kids, huh

Callie giving Nork the STINK EYE lol DRAG HIM she at least has some journalistic integrity

D'jok's being such an ass with the way he's talking about the Snow Kids, at least Mei showed there were no hard feelings when she left. What did they do to you, man? I can understand him feeling hurt and needing to get away, but now the show's going back to “D'jok only cares about winning” again. Like sure that could definitely be a front, but the show doesn't really look behind it as far as I remember

YAAAASS LUN-ZEARA

Surprised we didn't start this match with D'jok and Sinedd taunting each other

How dare you use the Pirate's soundtrack and not have a Pirate on the field >:(

YES KERNOR! weird to see her tired out though

The animation 😭😭😭

ooo call back to Netherball with this resonance thing, glad that has consequences. Cool that they show it affecting other players too, Kernor was the Netherball champion before Rocket after all

Does Simbai get dressed in her flux society clothes just to have a zoom call with them?

Ah wish we had more of that all star game

Episode 6:

Oh come on this is just sloppy now, he says the Shadows vs Rykers but that's the Pirates' logo. They got it right on the previous shot as well!

Is Mice practicing confessing to Yuki? I thought they were already dating lmao, surely they're past this

Why is Mark drawn with nipples but Micro-Ice isn't? Wait no he has them too in the next shot, what are the rules here 😂

Ah this scene is a classic. But 🅱lease give Micro-Ice some development that's not just comedic relief, even his stuff with Yuki is played for laughs. What about the fact that his best friend, no, brother, just up and left and shits on the Snow Kids on live TV?

SHARKY THAT. DOES NOT FEEL VERY LEGAL. SEXUAL HARASSMENT, IN FACT.

Kernor enjoying her little treat <3 I love when we get to see tough characters doing mundane things like eating ice cream.

I love this butler guy who hates his job. His wince when Tia says she needs someone to talk to before he reluctantly offers an ear, LOL. An icon.

Awww I'm glad to see Tia and Mei still being good friends. Mei I missed you!

THE SHADOWS WALKING IN UNISON UNDER THE UMBRELLA DSFJKFSSDF I know I shit on the animation but they do try to put in little things like that. They didn't have to animate that, but they did, for us.

Artie and Bennett shenanigans yaaay

Not Ahito and Thran deciding to watch the Shadows match instead of supporting Yuki

It's so fun watching the Rykers with how intimidating they are. Unfortunately my brain has been ruined and I keep getting reminded of something else when I see this gesture

He looks so unbothered 🤣😭😭

Again, what's the point of the Elektra's visor? Their flux looks so cool though

THE SHADOWS PLAYER IS SO TALL COMPARED TO THE CYCLOPS LOL

What position is Mei even playing now

Why didn't Kernor use her flux? Honestly goalkeepers should just use their flux for every save considering they don't have to run around as much

Is it just me or is Ahito not falling asleep as much as before

4-0???!!! NOT A SINGLE GOAL FOR THE RYKERS???!! RUDE!!!

The look Tia gives Lun-Zia, wtf man, this whole jealousy plot is just ridiculous. SHE WOULD NOT FUCKING DO THAT!

Why ya'll being so mean to Mice, dafuq ToT He just got violated by the paparazzi lmao show some sympathy

Sidney's reaction to Kernor sfsdfjksfjk good taste sir

OH NO NOT ZOLEEN

Ooooooo Pirates lore!! So they were already a thing before Sonny, he just took control from Magnus Blade and gave them a PR change

#galactik football #my posts #dori watches galactik football

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rogueshadeaux · 5 months

Text

Chapter Twenty-Six — Crossfire

I could see a bit of the sky now from where I was, since we were on the edge of the bridge. I couldn’t really see the stars anymore, something I’d grown accustomed to in Chapman’s ruralness and reinforced by Salmon Bay. It was the dead of night, and I couldn’t wait to get off of the floor and sleep the rest of the way to wherever this guy lived, even if that’d only be another hour. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

4.9k words | 16 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, Erosionverse-typical violence, guns, shooting, arguing, depression ? is that a tw?

It took three and a half days before we even crossed the border into Louisiana.

Brent, Dad, and Dr. Sims would rotate who would drive — Brent only allowed to do so at day — and when I begged for a chance, not only did Dad brush me off, but he wouldn’t even let me leave my spot in the back of the truck. Every pit stop, every leg stretch, every dine-in at some fast food place — Dad was there, closer than my own shadow, policing everything I could do in that moment.

I was about to fucking lose it.

I get that something was wrong with me. I understand that he’s seen me have a breakdown more than once in the past few days and was probably worried. But I wasn’t glass! He used to be big on independence, on letting us make our own mistakes and touting how he wanted us to live how we wanted, and just wanted to give advice when we wanted it. Now? I had no space, at all, and was seconds from going feral.

Brent could see it. He didn’t say much at all, not audibly, but he did at some point message me are you okay? and sighed when I shrugged. I laid the phone back on my lap and it stayed there for all of seventeen seconds before it pinged again and I flipped it, a screenshot in the messages.

Mei and Brent were still chatting away, Mei explaining how no one from the original group talked to Tommy much at all anymore. Even Cat stopped signing to her cousin. We’re all really worried about Jean, though…you’re sure she’s okay? We thought we saw her die in that footage of the seattle fight.

She’s fine, Brent promised, just a bit banged up.

Reese wants to talk to her. I mean we all do but Reese…well, you know her. She’s been at my house since new years and its been a challenge trying to get her to eat. Do you think Jean would want to reach out to her?

In the textbox was Brent’s message to me, a simple would you wanna? that he knew I’d see.

And I looked at him and shook my head, turning away to look back out of the window before he could convince me otherwise.

I couldn’t take the concerns or questions right now. I didn’t want to explain to them how something was wrong with me. And, God, how do I face them after what I did to Seattle? Why would they want to know someone like me, someone who could wipe them off of the face of the earth in an instant on some stupid mistake?

They were safer in Portland, with me in their past.

I was surprised by just how warm it got the farther south we went. Like, sure, I knew some people would rush to the south during winter to avoid the snow — but it was spring weather down here! Sixty, seventy degrees Fahrenheit! We didn’t get those sort of numbers in Chapman till May. I even threw off the woven blanket at some point, storing it on the floorboard simply because it felt too good to need the extra heat.

As we made a gas stop in Baton Rouge and everyone got out to stretch, Brent stripped off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, complaining. “God, it feels gross out here,”

Dad seemed to agree, and Dr. Sims was too far away to join in the conversation — but he also stripped off his coat as he walked towards the convenience store, slinging it over his shoulder.

Was it warm? Sure. But it didn’t warrant the forehead swipes or the gripes. “Maybe your steel insides have changed how you deal with temperature or something, because it feels amazing,” I said, hopping up from the tire so I could sit on the edge of the truck’s bed.

Brent looked at me like I was insane. “Are you serious? It’s so muggy,”

“That’s gotta be the marshes,” Dad hummed, rolling up his own sleeves.

“You’re both dramatic,” I teased. “I’d kill for Portland to feel like this,”

Brent’s bewilderment on his face grew as Dad regarded me for a moment before a half-smile broke on his face. “Do you feel the humidity?” he asked me.

“What humidity?”

He laughed, sliding the gas nozzle back into place. “That’s why you feel good — you’re probably in Conduit heaven. It’s humid right now, Jean. There’s so much water in the air it feels sticky,”

I had no idea what he was talking about.

Well, now that he mentioned it, that soreness between my shoulder blades I could never seem to shake was nearly gone, and my wounds weren’t all that itchy or in pain. I even felt confident enough to move around without the arm sling, my braced arm free to the elements. That’s what Dad concentrated on — my exposed arm with no support. “Jean, you should put your sling back on—”

“I’m fine, Dad,” I swore, hoping I’d be able to stop this in its tracks before it got bad. I hopped from my place on the truck and said, “I need to go to the bathroom,”

“Hold on, let me get—” Dad started, reaching into the truck for something.

“Dad.” I deadened. “I’m just going to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

I scurried off into the dark before he could protest more, desperate to catch fifteen seconds to myself.

We were so close to this special person that supposedly had all the answers. I couldn’t remember the guy’s name, I was always bad at that — but I did remember how Dr. Sims insisted he was important. He’s the closest we will ever get to talking to Cole MacGrath.

Cole MacGrath. The DUP had spent so much time painting him as a demon that even now you’ll find people that consider him a terrorist. They’d always point to the footage of him blowing up that section of Empire City and scream how he killed thousands. But there were stories from refugees from New Marais or people who snuck out of Empire City before it was decimated that touted him a hero. Footage from some old newscasters that snuck past the quarantine line to interview survivors of the explosion that happened in the city repeating the same: that he was a champion. Saving people, defeating rogue gangs that rose up in the aftermath of the explosion.

The other side would always scream back That he caused!

After the DUP fell and the government had to declassify a bunch of documents in their UN case, people were forced to acknowledge he actually wasn’t that bad a guy. How different was he from Dad? Not much. And that’s what I held on to initially; he was a guy trying to do the right thing. Even if he fucked up, he did more than others. Definitely more than the government did during the quarantine. Isn’t that enough?

I wonder how much guilt he carried to the end over everyone he couldn’t help.

Either way, he was the first recorded Conduit, apparently someone who’s seen tar like Augustine’s, and we’d have to go to the next best source to learn more since we couldn’t ask MacGrath without performing a séance. What kind of guy — normal guy, apparently — was a good enough replacement source for the Cole MacGrath?

There was a sudden knock on the door of the women’s restroom and both the woman walking towards a stall and the one washing her hands with me froze. We glanced at each other the way strangers in situations did; awkward, wordless side glances as we debated whether or not it was worth speaking up to talk to each other. Who knocks on a multi-stall restroom door?

Unfortunately, I knew exactly who.

“Jean?” Dad’s voice called from the other side. I felt like I was going to explode from embarrassment, my face in the mirror quickly turning red. “You in there?”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, thinking about going humid on the spot and never returning to my solid body. He could not be doing this and not see that it was absolutely humiliating! The other women definitely sensed my embarrassment, both turning to regard me as I mumbled some sort of apology, shook my hands out till the water from the sink seeped in, and gripped the handle of the door with white knuckles, barely able to take a deep breath before opening it.

Dad was there against the wall, barely allowing enough room for anyone to pass — and closing that space immediately when I stepped out. “Hey, there you are,” He greeted, like he wasn’t trying to infantilize me. “I told you to wait for m—”

“I can piss on my own, Dad.” I snipped, shoving myself into that small space between him and the wall and slipping past, briskly walking away.

Dad caught up with ease, falling in step beside me as the automatic doors to the gas station’s convenience store opened. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone right now,” he stressed, ignoring my bite. “You’re not…”

“I’m not what?” I demanded, spinning on him. “Capable? Competent? It’s the bathroom, Dad! I get that I fucked up and I’m broken now—”

“Jean, don’t curse—”

“—And that I can’t do anything right, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to treat me like a toddler! I’m not going to drown anyone while washing my hands.”

Something in Dad’s eyes changed. “That’s not what I meant—”

I didn’t want to hear it. Any excuse he would have given me would have just made it worse. I shot a hand up to stop his tangent, and demanded, “Don’t, Dad, just — how far’s New Marais?”

Dad’s eyebrows sewed closer together. He had that look, that expression he’d reserve for analyzing people on the stands. “It’s about an hour and a half away.”

“Let’s just go,” I said stiffly, walking off towards the truck. The sooner we got this over with, and the sooner we found a fix for whatever in me was fucked up, the sooner I’d get Dad off of my back.

Still, I put in my headphones and made sure my music was loud enough that everyone else in the car could hear its reverberation, just to make sure I didn’t have to deal with anything else along the way.

Brent got to drive us towards New Marais, and not only because he was Dad’s special little Conduit that wasn’t a walking hazard sign; in between choruses in my ears, I could hear Dad and Dr. Sims begin debating on whether or not we would be able to take back roads the rest of the way. “They don’t have cops that can do something about that?” Dad asked from the passengers’ seat.

Dr. Sims shrugged beside me. “There’s not enough of them. Too many older cops are retiring without any replacements, and those that do replace the old ones…well, there’s a big turnover rate. Criminals and wanna-bees have figured this out and—”

“And now they snipe drivers?” Dad scoffed, amazed that’s where their criminal minds went.

“Why am I driving, again?” Brent asked sheepishly.

“Because you’re the only one with built-in armor, and it frees Eugene and I up so we can protect you both. There’s really no other way?” Dad spun in place to ask Dr. Sims.

Dr. Sims shook his head. “Not until we cross the Lake Bonheur Causeway. It’ll take us into the city center and we can ride the backroads to the reclaimed swampland.”

“Man couldn’t live in a condo,” Dad grumbled, turning to face the front again.

I took out my headphones and put them away, the clack of their charge box catching Dad’s attention. “Jean, hey,” he started. “We’re—”

“I know,” I cut off. “I heard.”

Something simple changed in his eyes as he looked at me, but he didn’t mention it, instead continuing, “Okay, good. I’m going to need you to get on the floorboard.”

I blinked. “The—Dad—”

“You can’t be in view of any windows,” he cut me off with that aggravating finality in his voice, honed by years of law bullshit. “Eugene will be able to protect you if something happens, but you need to stay low.”

“Stay out of the way, you mean.” I grumbled.

Not low enough for Dad not to hear. “Stay safe. None of us are outrunning a bullet, but you’re the only one that’s not gonna recover.” The truck did that slight lurch as we went from asphalt to concrete, the start of this infamous Bonheur Causeway lit up in the night by the amber lights screwed to the suspensions above. I remember this bridge from one of Brent’s infodumps; it was one of the longest bridges over water in the country, no land for miles. Just concrete, steel, water, electric roadsigns — and four Conduits that could control them all.

Not that Dad wanted me to. “Jean.” He commanded, voice firm. “Down. Now.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and undoing my seatbelt. “Better hope Brent doesn’t crash either,” I snipped.

“Hey—” Brent started. I didn’t get to hear much else, I was already trying to fit myself in the small space between my seat and Brent’s.

This was humiliating. I was stored away on the bottom of the truck’s floor like some wine cooler they didn’t want the cops seeing, and I was, what, supposed to just be okay with it? I was shoved next to the plastic bag that held our trash — and right now, felt no better than it.

The cab of Dad’s truck flashed amber as we passed under lamplights, and Dad rolled down the windows of the truck, letting in this damp and dank smell that was part salt and part rotting egg. The smell definitely was enough to get a reaction from Brent. “Eugh, Dad—” he began to complain.

“Shh.” Dad commanded immediately.

I could see Dr. Sims from my spot on the floor — he was really the only thing I could see. He leaned over ever so slightly so he could look past the front seats and out of the windshield to the bridge, eyes scanning from behind the glare of his glasses. His one hand crept to the middle seat, closest to my head, and tensed, like he was preparing to call those angels up any minute now.

I couldn’t remember how long the bridge was; I was sure if I asked Brent, he’d be able to rattle off a number down to the centimeters, but I didn’t dare break the silence of the truck’s cab. Not even as my legs began to cramp from how I was crouched and the bridge gained some light from more variable-message signs appearing, directing the flow of traffic to different parts of New Marais. “Merge left,” Dad simply said, the click of the turn signal coming on almost immediately.

“We’re almost off the bridge.” Dr. Sims muttered above me. I didn’t realize he meant it to be a reassurance until his eyes flashed down to look at me.

Good. The sooner I could get out of this uncomfortable crouch, the better.

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

The truck hit another crack in the bridge, rocking around a bit with the force. The things in the back bounced around a bit, the ice in Dad’s cup rattled — and, under it all, something clicked. Dr. Sims heard the noise too as it rang around very slightly outside of the windows, warning, “Del—”

He was cut off by the back windshield suddenly shattering, a bullet flying through the space between Dad and Brent and impaling the radio, sending sparks and glass flying around. I shielded my head as glass rained down on me, poking away at my arms as Brent yelled, “Dad!”

“Just keep driving!” He demanded, unclipping his seatbelt. The window began to roll down as he added. “Steel on, now!”

Dr. Sims’ arms lit up and he spun in place, looking through the shattered window and out to the bridge. “D, we’re being followed!” He warned.

There was sudden tire screeching, and Brent cursed under his breath before the truck jerked right. “Dad!” He shouted, more urgent this time.

“Keep going, get off the bridge!”

“Where are you going?”

I could barely see the bottom of Dad’s feet from where I was as he pulled himself up onto the roof of the truck through the window. It creaked a bit under his weight, a resounding thunk that barely covered up the sound of a handgun cocking. I could feel the vibration from Brent’s hit as he smacked his driver’s side door, the plastic of the cab’s interior being overtaken by rapidly-growing steel, the encasing just finishing its growth as it became dented from bullets. Dr. Sims had a hand out of the gap the shattered windshield left, the blue around his wrists spinning like Doctor Strange gauntlets before pulsing bright and shooting off actual swords towards whoever was behind us.

I was thrown over onto Dr. Sims’ feet as whoever was on the right of us slammed into the truck in an effort to make it spin out, Brent’s overcorrection throwing me back just as quickly. I went from being on my knees, to my face, to my ass — all in perfect time to see Dad’s form as he fell from on top of the roof.

“Delsin!” Dr. Sims yelled out.

Dr. Sims was too distracted; he watched what I assumed had to be Dad’s body as it hit the pavement, concentrating more on that than whoever was behind us now returning fire. He was hit in his right arm, in that meat just below the elbow, the bullet tearing through him entirely and lodging into the back of the passenger side seat. Dr. Sims choked out a couple choice curse words, gripping his arm close and slouching down out of the view of the back windshield.

“Does anyone see Dad?” Brent demanded from up front before cursing again. The truck jerked around once more as he avoided something — or someone. “Jean, do you see him?”

I shook my head like Brent could see me, panic beginning to settle in my chest as I looked at the bit of sky the broken windshield allowed me to. Where was he? Dr. Sims looked all but useless; his face was going gray as he looked at the wound, and he made no move to sit back up and keep fighting. Could he even do it with an injury like that? There were pieces of tissue hanging out of the hole in his rolled-up sleeve. There was another bullet that blasted past and narrowly missed Brent’s head, taking out the front windshield instead.

I couldn’t stay here and just wait to see who’d recover or die first. I couldn’t stay on this dirty and glass-covered floorboard waiting to see what happened to Dad. I had to do something.

There was a stint I went through in Sophomore year, where action movies were my everything. I had just gotten into the idea of comic writing, and wanted something thrilling. Something exciting, something that’d catch an audience’s attention enough that they’d ditch the Valentine Crime Noirs and maybe I could bring an interest back to the storytelling form. Dad was all for it; it gave him the chance to introduce me to some of his favorite movies, and while some of them absolutely sucked, there was one that I adored watching with him again and again: John Wick. This guy had reached his limit after everything was taken from him, and God, the fight scenes — they were something else entirely. Not just action packed and exhilarating, but accurate.

It was there that I learned a bullet is useless in water so long as you’ve got a few feet between yourself and the gun. That’s all I needed to give us — a few feet of water.

I pushed up from the floorboard and laid my hand on the seat, a nice shard of glass immediately introducing itself into my palm through the space in my cast. I didn’t let that stop me, nor when Dr. Sims seemed to try to make some sound of objection through his sharp gasps; I flitted through the shattered window on my own wave of water, landing atop someone’s bag and nearly tripping as I resolidified.

There were two trucks, one directly beside us and swerving to try and push us into the guardrail of the bridge, another behind with at least four masked people in them. All armed.

No Dad. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Jean, what the fuck are you doing?” Brent yelled from the truck.

I steadied myself and rose, trying my best to look at the hood of the car behind us without worrying about the fact that everyone in it looked ready to mow me down with their weapons if given the chance. I definitely was giving them plenty. Water pushed down from my shoulders and began to swirl around my forearms as I let that tenseness push into my chest, a hold binding my ribs closer and closer until I pushed out and the pressure burst away with it.

A halo of water expanded quickly, this giant forcefield of wet that washed over me and everything else in the back of the truck, pushing over its roof and all the way to the front and farther still. I extended my arms from in front of me to beside me, holding them as steady as I could as I built more into the bubbling shield, trying to pile on enough to make it an actual wall and not just a barrier.

It felt…different, this time. Something about pushing around this much water…it didn’t feel like it used to. There was more strain to it, an ache in my shoulders even though I knew, without a doubt, I didn’t need to drain. The truck on our left inched closer still, tried to push past that barrier I was making and force its way into my little bubble, and a hole opened up in the siding Brent had built so he could stick his hand our and shoot a volley of steel spheres, the metal rusting the moment they hit my water and exploding upon impact with the highway robbers’ car. The windows shattered with the hit, causing the truck to swerve away with a squeal of the tires.

Even with the swirls of the swell I tried to keep the water clear enough to see through. I wasn’t exactly wanting Brent to drive the truck straight into a median barrier, after all. But it left things clear enough for me to see the muzzle of an assault rifle settle on the center console of the truck behind us. I was suddenly back in that alley somehow, a gun pointed at my forehead, at my family, the threat that tore so much apart in the blink of an eye.

I was not going to be the damsel in distress this time.

I moved my right hand in front of me, pushing more water into the barrier between us and the truck following close behind just as their gun let off a volley of bullets, shattering the windscreen on the front of their truck and sending a good dozen bullets straight for me.

The first three managed to make it through the water, each narrowly missing me — one even snagged the flannel I had tied around my waist, shredding a hole through the fabric. But as the water caught up with my intentions and became denser, the other bullets stuttered to a stop in their shots, wavering in the water before slowly falling away and onto the road.

There was a sudden shift in the shadows, a flash in the darkness between street lamps, and Dad was on the roof of their truck, smoke dissipating from his form. He gripped the barrel of the gun sticking out of the truck and pushed some sort of heat into it from his blackened hand, the barrel going red-hot before he bent it to a ninety degree angle. The people in the truck reacted to his presence, shouting, one lifting another gun, but it didn’t stop Dad; he turned back into a plume of smoke and darted into the truck from its shattered windscreen.

I could only describe what happened next as a movie scene; Dad disappeared and reappeared again and again, choking out someone in the backseat as a cloud of smoke, solidifying to kick the other one in the side of the jaw. He was gone again and suddenly in the front, elbowing the person in the passenger’s seat before grabbing the steering wheel and trying to fight it away from the driver.

The driver gave him a hard time, managing to land a headbutt that sent Dad reeling back and prompted him to turn to smoke. The embers and ash rushed out of a window and to the top of the vehicle, resettling as Dad on the roof again.

The smoke didn’t dissipate from him; it stayed close, swirling around him like a twister, pulling in as he stayed crouched, the ash around his arm turning bright red as it shifted to literal fire. Could he control fire?

The guys on our left swerved suddenly, and pushed into the side of Dad’s truck, throwing me off balance — and making the water shield around us disappear. I had to drop fast in order to not be thrown out of the car, something roughly popping in my side and making me cry out in pain.

“Jean, get back in the truck!” Brent demanded somewhere behind me. The guys beside us had their own guns, and an entire clip was emptied just over my head. I ducked low, covering my head with my arms, barely able to see Dad through the gaps between them.

He jumped, a plume of ash and red-hot embers as he shot to the sky like rockets, all burning fuel and smog. He was nearly touching the peak of the bridge’s suspension arch when he formed from the ash, suspended in midair for only a moment before turning in the sky, aiming for the truck behind us, and shooting down like a missile, heat on the tail of his form.

There was this brief half-second of calm that came in the pause of the guy in the truck beside us reloading his gun that gave me the chance to turn into a small wave and flit back into the truck, landing on the cushion of the back seat — and sorta on Dr. Sims’ leg. “Shit, sorry,” I apologized immediately.

He didn’t care, he wasn’t even paying attention; he was looking out of the back window at Dad’s form as it zeroed in on the hood of the trunk behind us, yelling, “Hold on to something!” before blue light took over his arms.

I couldn’t really keep track of what happened next.

Dad slammed into the hood of the truck behind us, his body sinking away into smoke and ash the moment it touched the gloss of the truck. Smoke coupled and pushed out as the truck’s front pushed down into the street under it, axel snapping away. Then there was blue, a wall of hard light as that smoke billowed outward in all directions, a blast force behind it.

The back of the truck lifted, the smoke hitting the near-opaque wall and pushing around it. Unfortunately, this also pushed the truck around, and before I knew it, I was thrown into the door as it flipped on its side, the steel on it barely doing anything to cushion me. My vision blacked out and I wasn’t sure if that was from the smoke, the rolling, or simply from me.

The truck skidded some ways before it stopped, Dr. Sims only kept from landing on me by the seat belt around his body. There was no sound outside of the truck. All I could see past the window was the remains of smoke as it dissipated in the air, and smelt nothing but burnt rubber and fumes. I let my head settle, sucking in a shaken breath and coughing out the exhale, lungs screaming for air that didn’t burn. Brent was visible from where I was, head leaned against the steel wall at his side, unmoving and unsteeled. “Brent?” I coughed.

He didn’t move.

#infamous second son #infamous erosion #delsin rowe #brent posting #jean posting #infamous 2 #infamous #cole macgrath #Eugene Sims #I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE AN ULT THIS WAS SO FUN BRO #fanfic #sucker punch productions #hey wanna watch me get hunted for sport when my friends reach the cliffhanger?#god I love putting guys in situations

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