#that is simply not how this kind of sausage gets made | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maliciouslove · 10 months

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ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕡

✧ pairing: fuckboy smileball barista!denki x reader ✧ summary: having a slimebucks apron is equal to having unlimited rizz (source: me) and denki proves it by bedding his brand new colleague on her very first day of work. ✧ word count: 5.5k ✧ tags: dubcon(?), manipulation(?), weed and alcohol use, oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasm, pussyjob, unprotected sex, pulling out, size difference (denki is Tall and Lanky TM), unappropriate work relationship, scummy denki, no feelings.

✧ my submission for the @bastardblvd Slimeball collab ✧

✧ AN: happy birthday to my little slimy fuckboy denks <3 this was so fun to work on, genuinely love being a grimetown resident now. the fanart is made by me but i'm no pro so.. be kind please. :D it was written in a daze so if you see discrepancies.. look away. based on my own tiny starbucks where i work (i am slimebucks denki incarnate). you may expect of me to make this a slimebucks series.. katsuki or touya next? ;)

Denki doesn’t like morning shifts — he doesn’t like how grumpy people are first thing in the morning because it makes scoring dates much harder for him. No matter how bubbly and pleasant he is, Monday mornings are just a bad time to flirt with clients. Most customers don’t even spare a glance at him, too busy figuring out their schedule for the day and burying their noses in their phones. He does, however, enjoy the morning business attire — stockings, pencil skirts, white shirts that allow him to see the outline of a bra underneath… and those heels. Something about office fashion always getshim riled up.

Typically, if he couldn’t strike up a conversation with the morning customers he would settle for watching them, eyes trailing down their crossed legs when they sit down to enjoy their coffee. He would follow their elegant movements and the curves of their bodies — from the corners of their painted lips turning upward in delight after a sip of hot coffee, to their dainty ankles decorated by the ankle strap of their heels swinging to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the speakers.

That is how his Mondays usually go, yet today he couldn't even enjoy that, all because of a new recruit.

His manager Katsuki (that angry bastard) had not even mentioned to them that he was hiring; he announced only yesterday that there would be a new trainee, pushing the responsibility of showing them around the store and kicking off their barista training onto him. Of course he wouldn’t ask Touya to train them — he would end up with his cock in his hand less than ten minutes into the start of his shift due to his “side hustle” schedule conflict, which in turn would scare off any new hire… and then the hiring process would have to start all over again. Katsuki himself is not much better off as barista trainer, his constant irritation and habit of screaming at everyone and everything has made many employees quit (and cry) early on, but the reason he was shoving the responsibility onto Denki was simply that he wouldn’t be in the store due to a manager’s meeting in Tokyo.

Bummer.

According to the clock on the wall, the new hire should be coming in any time now, so Denki settles for focusing his attention and efforts on that instead of his grumpy morning customers. And then, there you were in your yellow raincoat, all sunshine and smiles from the moment you step inside the store. Denki gives you a once over and decides maybe this Monday morning wouldn’t be so awful after all — you were cute and far too innocent and optimistic looking for him not to take advantage and have a little… fun.

His plan begins to form before you’ve even laid eyes on him.

“Hi! You must be the new addition to our team, pleasure to meet you!” The blonde extends a hand to greet you, his most charming smile plastered on his face. “Our team is a bit of a sausage party right now, so I hope you can bear with us and not get discouraged. We desperately need someone like you on our team.”

“Oh I can tell, your merch cabinets look very… dry. You fellas are not big on decorating, are you?” Your heartfelt laugh nearly disarms the blonde man as he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, admitting that the three men working there did not have the best sesne of aesthetics and beauty.

Oh, you were just his type — confident, energetic, and just a bit too kind and trusting.

“Well, you’re here to save us, right? How about we get started on your training, get the boring part over with so we can get to know each other better.”

There was not a single pure intention behind his words, but his face remains the picture of innocence and kindness. He’s had time to practice this look after all — can’t let people find out what’s behind the sunshine facade now, can he?

“Oh well training shouldn’t take long, I worked at a different Slimebuckslocation before moving to this part of town, hence why I’m being transferred here. I can get around drink making just fine, so you can just show me around the store I guess?” You bat your eyelashes at him and Denki thinks of you as a pure miracle. This expedites the timeline he had in mind.

With a pep in his step, he shows you around the store and back of house, informing you where they keep extra syrups and toppings at the front and the storage in the back. He hands you a new apron and name tag while informing you of the usual cleaning routine and covering all the basics that you need to get around the new store on your own. Not that he follows these cleaning routines that closely anyhow, but hey, you were here to pick up the slack now.

“So, think you got everything? Any questions?” Denki leans back against the bar on his elbows, long black painted fingers interlocking in front of his torso. He’s laid back and so pretty it’s almost distracting. A regular person has to exert effort not to stare too long at his honey colored eyes that crinkle when he smiles.

However, you cannot get too distracted — you must remain focused and make a good impression today.

“Yes, can I please rearrange and restock your merchandise cabinets? They do not spark joy and desire to buy in their current state. No offense.”

“Have at it.” Denki does not break eye contact, not once — feline eyes following your every move, gears turning in his head and schemes hatching in his pretty little head.

He doesn’t want to seem too overbearing, but he also doesn’t want you to think he isn’t interested. So, as it is pretty quiet in the store right now, he decides to give you a hand with the merchandise, chatting with you — learning about you. After all, the only times he actually puts effort into his minimum wage job arewhen there is a prospect of a cute girl removing her panties for him.

“So, you live nearby?” he begins to prod at you with innocent questions.

“Ah, not quite. I have to take a bus to get here since I don’t have a car anymore. I live on the east side of town, close to that big mall they built recently.”

Denki is easy to talk to, a nice balance budding between the two of you as he takes boxes out and hands you colorful cups and tumblers to put on the shelves.

“Hey, I live around those parts, too, I can give you a lift after work, save you some bus fare. Unless you have some super jealous boyfriend or something?” Despite flunking out of college, Kaminari isnot stupid — he isplaying his cards just right, creating an opportunity to learn if you’re single and give you an option to spend more time with him, which isn’t really an option. Unless you do have a boyfriend, you wouldn’t have a reason to say no, not after the deliberate way he phrased it.

“Haha, no, no boyfriend — kind of the reason I don’t currently have a car and why I had to move.” There’s an edge to your voice, maybe even a trace of anger, but to him they appear as feelings that seem to have simmered down. “I got out of a long relationship recently. We used to live together and share a car, but I had to get my own place after the breakup, and he took the car. And the dog.”

“That bastard!” Denki chimes, a bit too exaggerated, but he figures making a small joke won’t actually hurt. “Really though, that sucks. I’m sorry it happened.”

The way he switches from being a clown to being a gentleman can give a person whiplash.

“Don’t be, I’m not sorry it happened.” You shrug your shoulders and give him a wide, genuine smile. “Now I get to hook up and have flings whever I want.”

You keep the tone light, and you mean what you said — you’re not looking for anything serious right now, and the satisfaction from your answer was well written on the blonde’s face. He was cute, so maybe you’ll play along, have fun for once.

“So this means you’ll let me give you a ride?”

“If you really don’t mind?” You put the final tumbler on the shelf and examine your work in delight. Meanwhile Denki examines your body in delight.

“Oh, I’d be honored to.” A devious grin adorns his face as he follows you behind bar to help serve customers.

The day goes on, the playful banter between you and the blonde continuing — turns out you have similar hobbies: you like the same movies and games, you even have similar music taste, and Denki relinquished the store music rights to you for the day.

Your shoulders would brush as you work side by side at the coffee machines, and he would laugh shyly, complimenting your pace and how well you’re adjusting to the new store. The exchanges between the two of you were flawless, seamlessly passing each other lids and pitchers without so much as saying a word.

Kaminari gave the perfect performance of a man who enjoys his work; he didn’t even obnoxiusly flirt with every beautiful girl that placed an order.

“Hey, can you grab some more caramel drizzle from the back?” Denki asks after a huge line of people finally dissipates and gives room for some tidying up and restocking.

“Yea, absolutely. Need anything else?”

“Also grab some extra bags of coffee beans and vanilla syrup if you can?”

You nod and head to the back of house energetically.

Denki’s been working here for over two years now, so he knows that after this rush there won’t be anyone in the store for another half an hour at least, so sending you to the back of house away from customers was a calculated move. As soon as you disappear behind the doors he follows — after all, you wouldn’t be able to carry all that back to the front on your own.He should give you a hand.

Smiling to himself, he enters the storage area to see you standing on your tip toes trying to reach the bags of coffee on the top shelf. Quietly he walks up behind you, one hand on your waist to pull you back a bit, the other hand reaching above you for the coffee beans.

“Be careful. If you can’t reach somewhere, just call for me. Don’t want you getting hurt back here.” He can feel you melt into him and rest your back against his chest as he takes the four-pound bag down for you.

“Oh, sorry… I thought I was gonna be able to reach.” You smile at him, realizing how he was surrounding you in that moment, and something about itmade your skin tingle. “Thank you.”

“Of course! I figured you wouldn’t be able to carry everything at once so I came along to give you a hand.” The two of you stood very close to one another in the cramped storage, but you didn’t mind, as it was far too cold back here, and Kaminari was pleasantly warm to the touch. “The caramel drizzle is all the way down on that same self, if you want to grab that?”

Eager to complete the task, you turn around and bend over to open the box labled “caramel drizzle,” giving Denki a perfect view of you round ass, making him gulp hard. If he just reached forward he would be able to trace the curve of your ass with his hand, squeeze one cheek as his other hand trails down your side.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head as you stand back up, several bags of caramel sauce in your hands. You were squishing them playfully which was not helping Denki in keeping unholy thoughts at bay.

“I always loved the texture of these bags; it’s so stress relieving to play with them.” Grinning up at him, you were the picture of innocence.

“Yea, they remind me of tiddies.” Denki blurts out without even thinking, too enthralled by his imagination showing him images of you wrapping your pretty lips around his cock and playing with his balls. Once he realizes what he said he waves his hands around in defence. “No, no, not what I mea–”

“You haven’t touched boobs recently, have you?” You deadpan, and he can feel his heart sink. “Boobs are much more firm. I get where you’re coming from, but a bag of caramel sauce can not compare to a tit.” You say matter of factly while squishing a bag with your hand. “Can’t do that to a boob, can you?”

Denki snorts out a laugh.

“Yea, you’re right — tiddies do feel better. And it has indeed been a while since I got to touch one.” He dramatically wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye, a big pout on his lips as he turns to exist the storage.

“Aww, poor Denki… Wanna cop a feel?” You can see him physically freeze up at these words, turning to give you a bewildered look. “I’m joking! Obviously. You that desperate, pretty boy?”

You walk past him with a gleeful look on your face.

The look in Kaminari’s eyes changes as soon as you’re out of sight, and he cannot wait to get his greedy hands on you. In fact, he was going to challenge himself and get between those plush thighs of yours by tonight.

When the two of you are behind bar again, he continues to orbit close to you, watching videos on your phone over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin when he passes you a milk carton, caging you between his body and the bar while he reaches for something behind you.

And every time you accidentally touched, you could feel electicity run down your spine and butterflies flutter in your stomach. His light amber eyes trailing down your body lit a fire in your lower belly. The day went on just like that — standing a bit too close to one another, making inappropriate jokes, flirting. And so came time to close and go home, riding in his car.

“You done with the trash?” you ask as he takes his apron off.

“Yeah, if you’re done with the floor we can head on out.” You head to the back of house together to grab your stuff from your lockers and lock up.

“So, got any plans for tonight?” he asks, leaning on his locker while waiting for you to put your jacket on.

Now that you’re officially off the clock, you take the time to pay attention to small details about the man — how long his eyelashes are, how he cockily half smiles at you, how veiny his forearms are.

“No plans, no — I’m probably gonna end up watching Desperate Housewives with a glass of wine by myself.”

And there you go — giving him another opportunity.

“Oh you watch that too?” He’s excited, presenting this as an interest that not many share with him. “That’s basically my plan for the evening, except I was gonna get high instead of drinking.” Sharing with you that he smokes weed is also tactical; it indicates trust that you won’t misuse that information, and it also opens a gate for you to bond with him over weed if you smoke.

“Oh, well...” And there you go, taking the bait. “If it’s not too forward of me to offer, I’ve got alcohol and pizza on speed dial, you have weed and good company. Maybe we can merge resources, watch tonight’s episode together?”

Score.

“Sounds perfect.”

He places his hand at the small of your back as he leads you towards his car, being very caring and gentle — making you feel comfortable and safe, letting you open up to him. It was going to be a fun night for Denki.

Your apartment is exactly what he envisioned: small but cozy, full of plants, color and art. The small space reflected your personality, a variety of interests on display, different styles clashing in every corner of the room. It was cute. And your chouch seemed very comfortable for eating pussy.

“Cute place.”

“Thanks. I finally got the chance to decorate my own space however I want, so I went a bit crazy with it.”

Kaminari doesn’t miss the emphasis in your voice; you lived for a long time with no control over small and insignificant things such as decor. You were frustrated. At the same time, he notes that now you seem to cling to control. He noticed it at work, too — you rarely gave yourself time off. Things are really looking up for the blonde man, and he can barely contain his wolfish smile as the gears in his head turn. You’d love to give up control, wouldn’t you?

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll grab us some drinks and we can order pizza.”

As you make way to the small kitchen, Denki takes two pre-rolled joints from a cigarette tin and places them on the table. Wine and weed should make you nice and pliable for him. You return with a glass of white wine and a cold beer.

“I figured you’s prefer a beer over wine.” You offer with a smile, and he accepts.

“How observant of you. I just wanna check first:Are you sure you want to mix alcohol and weed? Might hit you hard.” He shows concern, but it’s fake — the more crossfaded you are, the easier it would be for him to get you naked.

“Yea I’m uh.. More practiced than I care to admit.” You give him a coy smile and sit next to him on the couch, phone in hand ready to order food. Once that is out of the way, you both finally lean back and relax on the couch, the episode of Desperate Housewives starting with a recap.

“So, do you invite people you just met to your apartment to get stoned often, or..?” He offers jokingly as he lights one of the joints up.

“No, just the pretty and charming ones.” You’re no longer being coy about it like you were at work; you like him, and you aregoing to make it known.

“Oh, you think I’m pretty? So you only want me for my face?” He retorts with faux disappointment, eyes focused on yours intently, curious and full of desire.

“Not just your face. You have pretty hands too.” You answer with a straight face, reaching for his hand that was holding the joint and pulling it towards yourself, taking a drag from the joint between his slender fingers.

Denki swallows, the lust thick in his throat. The way your lips wrap around the joint is sinister, the eyecontact you maintain while doing it — electrifying.

His body responds before his brain can process, leaning in towards you to capture the smoke from your lips with his own, inhaling it and placing his free hand at the back of your neck, keeping your lips close to his.

Honey-colored eyes stare down at you as your cheeks begin to heat, mind and heart racing as your tongue darts to wet your lips and taste him. Screw your plan to just tease him, wind him up for a week or two, make him eager — you don’t have the patience for all that. You set your glass on the coffee table and close the gap between the two of you, pushing him back, straddling him.

“Feeling bold tonight, sweetness?” He smiles up at you, letting you get your dose of control, let you simmer in the illusion that you initiated this, you took the lead. His free hand rests on your thigh, thumb drawing circles over your jeans, gently squeezing you.

You don’t dignify him with a response as your lips crash onto his in a searing kiss, fingers carding through his blonde locks. He can tell how needy you are by the way your body moves — pulling his hair a bit harder than you should, nipping at his lower lip, canting your hips over his. You’re leaning into his every touch, almost aggressively taking what you want from him, claiming control.

He smiles into the kiss and in one swift move shifts you to lay flat on your back on the couch, his larger frame towering over yours.

“Don’t move.” He sounds almost like a different person as he yanks the control from you, and you obey. You lay still and watch him intently as he lights the joint again, taking a long drag and putting the joint back on the ashtray.

Leaning down, he places his hand under your chin, parting your lips and blowing the smoke into your mouth. You inhale and hold your breath as he traces kisses down your jaw and collarbone, warm hands sneaking under your shirt. He only speaks after you slowly exhale the smoke.

“You’ve brightened my day, you know. Let me thank you properly.”

His fingers trail down your body and unbutton your jeans, feather light kisses pressed against your tummy just above the hem of your pants. You don’t protest, so he continues his ministrations, pulling your shirt up above your head and leaving you in your pink lacy bra. He pushes one of the bra straps to the side and—

Ding dong!

The pizza has arrived.

“Fuck–” He scrambles to his feet to go answer the door while you qucikly throw your shirt back on and head to the kitchen. Denki follows with pizzas in hand that he quickly discards on the table.

“Are the pizzas cut? Do you need any sauce or—” You’re scooped up in his hands and pressed against the kitchen counter. His lips are on your again, insistent and needy. “Denk— The food?”

“I was hoping for a different meal.”

His breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he lifts you up to sit you on the marble counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he makes desire bubble inside you once more.

Discarding your pesky shirt again, he wastes no time in removing your bra and cupping your breasts, lips enclosing around your pert nipple.

“You’re right — much better than a bag of caramel sauce.” His words are barely above a whisper as he tweaks your nipple between thumb and index finger, leaving wet kisses across your sternum and stomach. His hands grip at the hem of your still unbuttoned jeans, and you follow his wordless instruction, lifting your hips and letting him slip the jeans off.

There you were, practically naked on your kitchen counter while he, still fully dressed, devoured you with predatory eyes. Large hands rest on your bare thighs, and he gently spreads your legs and drags you closer to the edge of the countertop.

You’re pretty and soft, and you smell nice. Denki can’t help but wonder if you’ll taste sweet as well. A single digit traces the outline of your lacy thong, marveling at the wet spot forming on the material. Hooking his finger behind the material, he roughly pulls it upwards — the feeling isn’t exactly pleasant, but it doesn't hurt either; it’s simply not enough friction. You need more. Your nose and eyebrows scrunch, and you wrap your hand around his wrist, a pleading whine leaving your parted lips.

“Aw, I’m sorry pretty girl… I won’t tease you too much, promise.”

Another quick peck to your lips and he sinks to his knees in front of you, eye level with your needy wet cunt. Pushing the pink fabric to the side, he inspects your pretty cunt, glistening with arousal. Kissing from the inside of your thigh and making his way to your core, all you can do is tug on his hair and hold on while he devours you whole.

Kaminari finally delves his tongue into your heat, leaving a long stripe from your needy hole to your sensitive clit and then focusing on the latter. His tongue is gentle, teasing — like he has all the time in the world to enjoy this tasty treat, working you up until your body starts moving on its own against his tongue. Your head is so far up in the clouds that you probably aren’t even aware of how tightly you’re gripping his hair and how you’re moving your hips rhythmically against his mouth.

You sound cute: breathless and whiny, softly begging under your breath, head tilted back in pleasure as the muscles in your thighs stiffen and your legs shake. Yet, Denki does not speed up, maintaining his languid pace and dangling true bliss right in front of your eyes.

“F-fuuck… Denki, please...”

Your heart is in your throat, and your body aches from the tension, you need release. You can feel the smirk on his lips as you beg him.

At the peak of your high, delirious from the need to cum but not being given enough friction to tumble over the edge, Denki lifts two long, slender fingers to your wet cunt and slowly pushes them inside you, the feeling of being filled up driving the air out of your lungs.

Quickly, Denki finds that spongy spot inside you and presses against it, moving his fingers right against it while his lips and tongue focus on your clit.

It takes seconds for you to ascend, body going rigid as your muscles contract around his fingers and your orgasm is forced out of you with a strangled moan. He does not slow down.

One strong arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you still while his mouth continues to ravage you, fingers slipping in and out with precision. He was intending to force another orgasm out of you without giving you time to recover from the first.

Your arms and legs feeltingly and limp, and Denki has to support your weight all while eating you out like a man starved. His cock is painfully hard in his tight jeans, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum one more time on his face.

You taste like wild honey, and your whiny pleas fuel him to keep going, marveling in the feeling of you becoming tighter and tighter for him, chest heaving erraticly and shaky fingers scratching at his arms and shoulders. You are about to come undone for him.

Before your mind can respond to your body, the coil in your belly snaps, and you gush onto his fingers with a scream, squirting in his earger mouth as he licks up every clear droplet. He removes his fingers and helps you come down from your high with gentle kisses over your swollen clit and soft thighs.

Your mind is spinning, but your ears register the sound of a belt unbuckling. Groggily opening your eyes, you are met with the image of him keeping his t-shirt tucked between his teeth as he fists his cock to the sight of you. His pupils are blown — only a thin ring of gold remaining. He closes the gap between you again, his warm length resting on your sticky cunt, slowly gliding between your folds.

You open your mouth to ask if he has condoms, but he seems to have already read your mind.

“Don’t have any on me, but I’m clean, and I won’t put it in.” His words are rushed, and he is far too entranced by the feel and sound of wetness to even look you in the eyes.

You can’t even bother to argue, too tired and blissed out with a new sesnse of hunger growing in the pit of your stomach. Your hips instinctively move to meet his thrusts, the mushroom tip of his cockhead grinding into your sensitive clit, and you just want more. Tired hands reach out to him, thumb rubbing over his cheek as he leans into your touch, kissing your palm with his eyes shut as his hips thrust faster against your sloppy wet cunt.

“Fuck, gorgeous, you have no idea how bad I wanna be inside ya.” He nips at your hand still resting on his cheek and growls lowly, frustrated by his own imagination of how snug you would feel around his cock.

Drunk on his words and the previous two orgasms he forced out of you, you want him just as bad. Throwing all logic and reasoning out the window you use the last of your strenght to lift your hips and line him up to your entrance, slamming your hips down and taking his cock all at once with a yelp.

“P-Please, please…” You mumble in a chant as your velvety walls spasm around his girth, mouth loosly hanging open and a bit of drool trickling down your chin. You were so beautifully fucked out, heavy eyelids giving you the most seductive look.

Finally overcoming his shock and managing to stifle his impending orgasm, Denki moves his hips and curses under his breath at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in. Grinning wolfishly at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, small hands gripping his sleeve for dear life, he angles his hips to thrust his cock right into your sweet spot making you scream his name in pleasure.

God, if he hadn’t edged himself half to insanity, he’d want to stay buried in your warm cunt for the whole evening, but you felt so good, he knew he wouldn’t last. Hooking his arms under your knees and then linking his finger behind your neck he rams his cock fervently inside you. The angle change of this position made you feel him all the way in your stomach, your clit slapping against his pelvis with each thrust. Snaking a hand between your bodies you circle a finger over your clit to help yourself while he uses you as a fleshlight.

“That’s right sweetness, keep doing that, you need to cum one more time f’me. One more.”

Folding you even more and slamming you on his cock he could feel your insides trying to push him out as a third orgasm washes over you, more clear liquid splashing against his abdomen as you cry out his name.

Letting you out of the headlock, he pulls out quickly, pumping his fist over his cock as his balls thighten, and he empties his seed all over your wet cunt, smearing his cum over your clit and folds with a relieved sigh.

Still caging you in with his arms at your sides, he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“You good?” You answer with a weak nod, and he can’t help but chuckle at how exhausted you are reaching over for the kitchen paper. “Sorry, it’s the closest thing I can clean you up with.”

After catching your breath and no longer being covered in sticky cum, post-nut clarity finally settles in, and you chew on your lower lip, anxiously pondering the consequences of your actions.

“Don’t freak out, pretty girl.” He’s his usual charming self now, feline eyes crinkling in a smile. “You don’t want anything serious, nor do I, and if word gets out at work we’d be both in trouble. So, how about we keep this between us?”

Offering you a perfect escape — the final part of his plan. You smile widely glad to know you’re both on the same page, the anxiety dying down.

“Also, sorry to bust a load and hit the road, but my landlord has left me like 12 messages about some emergency at the flat so I think I should really go check it out, might be a flood.” He awkwardly scratches his neck, showing that he feels bad about this.

“Oh, don’t worry about it! Go, I hope it isn’t flooded.” You turn to grab one of the abandoned pizzas on the table. “Why don’t you take this with you? You never got to eat it anyway. Won’t be as good as fresh pizza, but it’s something…”

He grins widely, accepting the pizza and giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at work then, newbie?”

“See you then.”

Escorting him to the door you lock it behind him and rest your back to the door taking a deep breath.

Walking outside of your apartment complex, Denki pulls his phone out of his back pocket and dials a number under the name “Landlord Toshi”.

“Hey man, thanks for always having my back with the apartment ‘emergencies.’” The blonde laughs into the phone. “Yea, I told you she was gonna be easy — fresh out of a relationship, wants to let loose and make up for lost time, constantly feels like she has to be in control so naturally gives the reins away when it comes to fucking. It was a fun little challenge.”

“You dog.” The man on the other line chuckles and a bong can be heard in the background. “You gonna tap that again?”

“Nah, she seems the type to catch feels.” Denki lights up the other joint in his cigarette tin and gets in his car, revving the engine. “Plus, the only reason I did this was to even the bet scores at work while Touya is still on vacation.”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

#unholytext.exe #denki kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari smut #denki smut #kaminari smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw.dubcon #tw.manipulation #tw.drugs #tw.alcohol #tw.weed #slimeball collab #slimeball denki #slimebucks series

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blinkpen · 5 months

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wait hold up did everyone suddenly become OK with saying anything about Heckuva Badshow that isn't completely unearned praise/did everyone only start mocking viv's mind-numbingly juvenile writing style WHILE I WAS GONE???

you bastards

i have a STOCKPILE of burns i thought i'd never get to use because too many people were still willing to roleplay as mr burns' hounds on her behalf or simply report back to base camp so she could scream SICCEM before insisting she is but a tender wee lamb who needs protection from The Haters while turning on her white woman tears and calling her connections demanding they not give someone a job bc they didn't laugh when she spent an entire workday following them around going PENIS! PENIS! PENIS! FUCK! SEX! PENIS! ASS! FUCK! PENIS! HAHAHAHA! GET IT? PENIS, the FUCK ORGAN, lol, PENIS EXIST! REMEMBER? IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE PENIS! You know, like in Sausage Party? the best comedy film ever made? the one i made a nazi oc for? wait what huh who said that was it the wind shut up anyway PENIS PENIS PENIS Poor Person Supremacists Are Real and Just As Bad As Bad as Aristocrats Who Strangle Their......... Indentured Servants Bc Their Wife Is Being Bitchy PENIS PENIS PENIS COCK WANG DICK SCHLONG WILLY WANG WONG WOMEN ARE STUPID WHOOOOOOORES AND FAT PEOPLE ARE DISGUUUUUSTING! LOSE WEIGHT OR YOU ARE GROSS! THE BAD KIND OF GROSS, UNLIKE THE GOOD GROSS OF SKINNY CIS DICK DICK PENIS PENIS HORSE WEINER SEMEN! YAOI YAOI YAHOOOOOOO oohhMy Cartoon Dad is Sooooo Sad..... so sad, he is like Bojack, only instead of Herb being a total bitch, he and everyone else magically instantly forgives MY bojack without him even giving a proper apology, so he's like, an IMPROVED Bojack, that's how good MY writing is..... so good... so genius... genius like Penius... maverick, more like... maver-dick.... yeah that's it... i'm such a shakeup in the world of Mature Dialogue... Cocktopus... Lesbian Named Vagina.... Clittorissa clit slit penis jizzlord squirt.... oh man Look at my Sad Cartoon Dad Again... Look How Sad he is... Please Say You Want to Fuck Him... Please Fuck My Cartoon Dad.... While I Watch... Let Me Watch You Fuck My Cartoon Dad..... With Your PENIS! LOL! PENIS PENIS PENIS PEE-

hey yeah okay this is turning into a rough draft of bit in and of itself already huh i should stop and dig out the Good Stuff vs just doing a bad viv impression that still manages to be funnier than an entire season plus of scripts combined

#her writing style is just too easy to mock once you start its VERY hard to stop #because yknow. it's easy. it's easy to do it. because the OG writing itself is easy. it's lazily written and therefore can be lazily aped.#if you didn't want this style of critique to happen you shoulda come up with at least One joke distinct enough to be Worth Quoting #you know like come up with a single bit so good it can then have its goodness ruined by overexposure as people parrot it exactly ad nauseum #instead of 'nearly every manifestation of comedy is just a variation of throwing fuckwords in randomly so that's all i have to do'#that's why any additional effort becomes noticeable gravy on this bed of under-cooked half-mashed potatoes #almost like there is learned craft to writing and she shoulda absorbed some instead of deciding she was too good to benefit from feedback #oop

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fatguarddog · 6 months

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Feedist Kinktober Day 18: Lost Doll

You found her discarded on your front porch, a beautiful old porcelain doll that was unlike any you had seen before. She had loose, blonde curls, adorable rosy cheeks, soft blue eyes with large lashes attached, a pretty scarlet dress in a Victorian style... nothing out of the ordinary really...

Except this doll was fat. Really fat.

Her round belly presented such a nice shape bulging out from her dress, even her arms and legs seemed to have been made all chubby and cute like little stuffed sausages. Something about her smile and unique physique compelled you to pick her up and take her inside; perhaps with a bit of polish she could be worth something? She could be some kind of rare make after all, so why not take care of her for a while.

So you did. You took her in and began to clean the dirt from her body and dress, neatening her up and giving the plump doll a comfortable seat to rest in while you figured out what to do with her.

Over the next week or so, you spent your free time researching old dolls and where yours could have come from. Despite not remembering grabbing a snack when you sat down to do so, you almost always found an array of wrappers and empty plates around you whenever you turned your laptop off. It wasn't like you could really stop doing it since you were hardly aware you'd even started... so soon you began plumping up all over.

Your meals seemed to get larger, you felt more compelled to stay sedentary for longer periods of time... and so your body simply ballooned, all the while your doll smiled back at you... and you could swear she was looking thinner by the day.

Your hair got curly despite you not doing anything to it, your plump cheeks gained a rosy glow, your eye lashes seemed longer and thicker than ever before and you found yourself wearing more old fashioned clothes... heavy old dresses that hugged your new curves and made you look so beautifully comfortable with all your new padding. As the changes ramped up, you never really questioned them... it just all felt so right deep inside. You grew larger and larger as your doll became slimmer and slimmer, taking on a more modern appearance.

One day, all dressed up in your finest and spread out on the couch, you stuffed yourself with a feast of food until you could hardly move. The weight of your bulging, fattened gut held you in place, but when you went to rub it, you realised you couldn't move at all, you were frozen in place aside from your eyes. Looking around the room, you realised you couldn't see your doll anymore, but you could hear footsteps approaching. As they grew closer, a hand came out from behind you and rubbed at your swollen belly through your scarlet dress.

"What a good girl you've been, you've broken my curse," a sultry feminine voice whispered in your ear, deepening the blush on your fat cheeks, "I can't believe how easy that was." The figure walked around in front of you, revealing herself. To your best bet, she looked as though she were a human version of the doll you found after going through all her changes, slimmed down and looking more from the current era. "You see I'm a witch whose spell backfired on her, I was trying to turn someone into my fat living doll, but something went wrong and I ended up as a fat little doll instead," she sighed and looked out the window. "I got tossed around a lot, most people threw me out after picking up on my magical fattening aura... but not you."

She smiled wickedly as she approaching you and sank her fingers into your stuffed, fattened flesh, making you whimper slightly through your paralysis.

"Seems all I needed to do to be free was have someone keep me long enough to accept the spell I'd intended to cast in the first place, getting fatter than my doll form and instead becoming my fat living doll," she rubbed at your soft body, clearly enjoying herself.

"You want to be my fat doll, right? I'll keep you so plump and comfortable and take really good care of you, pretty thing. I know you want it good girl, so just nod that pretty head for me," she gently cupped your face and made you nod your head in response, making a blissful calm wash over your mind and body.

Something told you that being a witch's fat doll could be the best thing that ever happened to you.

#hutch posts #this kind of got away from me but eyyyyy #feedist kinktober #weight gain #rapid weight gain #stuffing #witches #dollification #.cnc

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tastesoftamriel · 1 year

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Greetings from Finland! (Or I suppose it could be considered Eastern Skyrim) What are some of the spices or ingredients that could be used in food making from each race? I plan to make up a recipe of my own. And how about most famous meats for every race? (And possibly their real life counterparts for some of the meats?) Best wishes, thank you!

Hello! You can find a list of commonly used Tamrielic spices here. With regards to meats, there are a range of different meats preferred by the races based on geographic regions and subsequent availability.

Altmer

Summerset favours fish over most other meats, but the High Elves also farm a range of more common mainland Tamrielic livestock such as cows, chickens, sheep, and deer. However, indrik heart is the most prized of all meats, and is highly sought after due to the illegality and difficulty of killing these magnificent beasts. The preparation and consumption of indrik heart is purportedly painstaking, and is a closely guarded secret of Altmeri gourmets. It is my goal to one day try this coveted dish!

Argonians

Guar, bantam guar, and chickens are the main meats favoured by Black Marsh Argonians, primarily due to their ability to cope with swampy conditions. Grilling, baking, and frying are the most common ways of preparing these meats, whether they're served on their own, with noodles or saltrice, or salads.

Bosmer

If it's meat, the Bosmer will eat it. Whether it's wild boar, deer, timber mammoth, or even monkey, all game is fair game in Valenwood! Timber mammoth steak with blue timber mammoth cheese sauce is one of my favourite foods in Tamriel.

Bretons

If there's one race who's mad about mutton, it's the Bretons. While High Rock is also known for its pork dishes, today I'm focusing on all things mutton. Mutton stew, mutton chops, mutton casserole, and even Orcish-inspired mutton curry are favourites both at home and in taverns. One of the more popular ways of consuming the meat is a mutton and rosemary sausage, that is served fried with eggs, goat cheese, and roasted artichoke hearts.

Dunmer

Aside from guar, the Dark Elves love nix-hound and nix-ox in equal amounts, with the former being more akin to crocodile or turkey in texture, while nix-ox is named such due to its uncanny similarity to beef in flavour (though not in texture). As they are bugs, however, you're not going to get thick steaks or drumsticks as you would from other animals. Instead, nix-ox and -hound are best served minced or stewed. A staple dish in Dunmeri households is nix-hound casserole, made with finely minced and baked nix-hound with saltrice, hackle-lo or ash yams, and scuttle.

Imperials

Imperials love beef the same way that Bretons love mutton. However, the most unique and exciting beef you can find in Tamriel is Cyrodiilic wagyu, a special kind of fatty, marbled beef that is exquisite as it simply melts in the mouth with a rich, meaty flavour. Whether it's served as tender filet mignon or thinly sliced as carpaccio, Cyrodiilic wagyu beef is an expensive but absolutely divine treat.

Khajiit

There are many exotic meats that are native to Elsweyr, and jerboa is probably the most popular. These small (and unfortunately very cute) rodents are delicious when deep fried or roasted in moon sugar sauce, though their small size means you'll have to eat a few to fill up. If you don't mind picking bones from your teeth, jerboa is a must-try for adventurous foodies.

Nords

Beef, chicken, elk, goat, horker, rabbit...in Skyrim, if it moves, we're probably eating it. However, the consumption of specific types of meat, and whether it's processed or fresh, really depends on where you are in the Province. Major towns and cities are more likely to eat fresh farmed meats like poultry, mutton, and beef, while rural areas rely more on wild game. Whether it's Markarth barbequed goat skewers or Dawnstar horker casserole, there's a whole new world of regional dishes out there for meat lovers visiting Skyrim.

Orcs

Echatere, chub loon, horker, and mammoth are the cornerstones of Orcish cuisine, and they're enjoyed in abundance. Wrothgarian Orcs in particular love their echatere, which are lovingly hand-reared or hunted in the wild. Either way, it's delicious, albeit with a rather acquired taste and gamey aroma. Echatere meatballs topped with crispy chub loon bits and an echatere cheese and frost mirriam gravy are a timeless classic hailing from the region.

Redguards

If goats were ever to become an endangered species, the last place they would disappear would be Hammerfell. Anyone who's visited the Alik'r will know that despite the sandy, Oblivion-hot depths of the desert, these hardy creatures will survive just about anything. As a result, goat meat plays a central part in Redguard cooking. Goat koftas, kebabs, shawarma, curries...no matter what form it's in, you're bound to have a tasty, meaty meal no matter where you are in Hammerfell.

#Asks #Meat #Meats #Tes #The Elder Scrolls #World building #Worldbuilding #Help this posted before I could finish it #Oh well full edited version will be in the compendium

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rose-lizzzy · 9 months

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Gem stayed up all night studying more dark magic.

She had to know as much as she could. She needed to be strong enough. There was no way she was going to let them take her back to that room.

So her only option was to prove she was good enough. And to do that, she had to make sure her powers were as good as they could be.

There was still so much to dark magic that she had to study. She was only scraping the surface. The fact she was doing it at all....unnerved a part of her, but that didn't matter. Her only other option was to go back to the isolation. She wasn't going back.

By the time the sun had risen, she'd gotten through most of the spells in the book. Dark spells, the kind of stuff she'd feared before.

She saw the sun peeking through the small crack in the blinds of her study, and she knew she had to go and get the egg.

Gem stores the book away in a drawer, to continue when she returned, and takes off towards Gilded Hilenthia.

Her first thought was to check the nest. The nest Pearl had kept the golden goose egg being first.

"Of course it's not there...too obvious." She mutters to herself, before turning and searching elsewhere.

She'd rummaged through the entirety of Pearls starter house, and searched around the beanstalk before she turned to the barn.

It had to be there. She had to find it.

Gem was starting to feel anxious, worried. She will find it. She'd get the egg and take it to Xornoth.

The barn doors burst open at the gust of wind she hurled at it, and she immediately starts ransacking the place, throwing around hay and anything she needed to move to find the egg.

She hadn't realized the barn was being used.

"Gem?"

Her head snaps up, and she sees Pearl, standing next to her cows, looking at her with confusion.

"What...are you doing?" She asks, and Gem jumps up, sprinting to Pearl, putting the tip of the crystal of her staff to the farmers neck.

"Where's the egg?" She demands.

Pearl frowns, hesitating. "...Well I have it right here!"

Gems staff lowers, and Pearl tosses her a chicken egg.

Immediately, Gem swings her staff down on the queen, and it slams into her shoulder.

"You need to specify what egg if you're looking for a specific kind!" Pearl laughs it off, sword still sheathed.

The wizard glares at her, angry she was making this a joking matter. "The dragon egg. Hand it over. Before I take it by force."

The farmer queen folds her arms, shaking her head. "'Fraid I can't do that."

"Give me the EGG!" she screams, eyes burning with fury.

Pearl shakes her head again. "No Gem. You can't have it."

Gem starts to swing at her, trying to start a fight, but Pearl refused to engage, simply dodging.

"Pearl! I need it! Give it to me!" She screams. "I can make you! Remember how I made Sausage fight you? I can do the same to you!"

The farmer didn't even react to that threat, just clenching her fists. "Alright. Do it then."

Gem frowns. "..what?"

"Do it! Control me. Get what you need." Pearl smiles.

The wizard narrows her eyes. "I will." She starts preparing the spell, the same she'd done with Sausage.

When she finished, she looked up, straining. Pearls eyed flickered red once, but she stayed unfazed.

Gem falls back, shocked and baffled. "What?! How-"

Pearl shakes her head with a sad chuckle. "You were able to use Sausage more because his mind had been exposed to dark magic. Clearly, you haven't gotten strong enough with it yet to get through my mind." She smiles, like she knew that would happen.

The wizard glares at her. "Shut up. I can still do plenty to you."

"Bring it! I've been dying for a good fight."

Gem swings her staff, and a fireball hurls itself at Pearl.

Pearl jumps out of the way, and tosses a bucket of water on the wall it hit before slamming her body into Gem, knocking her to the ground, pinning her down.

"I win." She smiles, while Gem struggles, trying to kick at and squirm out from underneath of her.

"Stop! Let me go! Just give me the egg!" She screams, and Pearl could hear her voice slowly get more desperate, more fear coming through. "You don't understand! I need that egg!"

Pearl just watches her struggle, looking sympathetically at her.

#shrubnoth au: the wizards tale #empires smp #shubble #shrub berry #empires shrub #xornoth #geminitay

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popculturebuffet · 9 months

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Lion King II: Simba's Pride Review (Birthday Review for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people and it's time once again for that annual tradition where I celebrate Kev, my client turned friend and client who comissions much of the reviews you see on this blog, exactly how he likes.. by talking about lions for a while. And after covering the rather abismal interquel 1/2 last year, we're finally onto the sequel this year, Simba's Pride.

Simba's Pride is my first time covering one of Disney's various DTV sequels. And while many a kid can recalled having to suffer through these things , I honestly don't have a ton of experince with them. I saw about 6 as a kid: the aladdin sequels, extremley goofy movie, this one, pocahantas and hunchback. I saw them advertised sure but I was more a toy story kid. I watched and was scarred by that one way more than most other disney films outside of say Aladdin, which I remember watching all the time .That and the aristocats. MOstly for that bitching opening

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So i'ts not a suprise the only ones I really remembered were the aladdin sequels.. and extremley goofy movie, which is likely responsible for me loving goofy so much. Yes over the orignal , I just headbanged to the aristocats what makes you think I just magically turned into this one day?

That said.. I was curious to revisit this one when the time came as Lion King II has one of the better reputations among the disney sequels, feeling both SLIGHLTY more necessary. It's well liked to the point that when lion king sequel series LIon Guard happened, Lion King 2 was kept fully canon, to the point season 3 goes out of it's way to explain why the new crop of chracters from lion guard are absent during this film.

So the question is does this film hold up... or is it simply good by comparison to Mulan II: Everyone Woke up On the Wrong Side of the Bed This Morning? Find out with me under the cut.

We're Doin a Sequel: I almost didn't have much of a production section this time, but thankfully wikipedia provides.. in this case an old LA Times article from when the movie was in pre-release. It's not DEEP into production but it least it gives me some insight into how the sausage was made on this one.

The first was this pretty damming line from Buena Vista Home Entertainment's president, which sums up the DTV boom in a nutshell

“We look at the feature animation business as a way to set up the original story,” said Michael Johnson, president of Buena Vista Home Entertainment Worldwide. “Their energies are absorbed completely in new productions. So we have set up a division through the television animation group to do the sequels. . . . That’s not to say this isn’t good enough to go theatrical.”

This.. may be one of the grossest things i've seen disney do. It's not homophobia gross, it's not "making a feature film next to a concentration camp" gross, but it's still horrible to make a division just to make cheap sequels you don't consider anything but money , not only discrediting the work done by the animators on these films, but also admitting your making a shoddy product just to get money from parents who trust your brand. Am I saying this is the first or last time any company, disney included, pulled this kind of shit? No. Not even close. Even GOOD movies have done greasy shit to their animators, see the shoddy conditions on across the spider-verse. But this is still a special kind of wrong and set up a whole industry of wrong in these cheap half assed sequels. If antyhing could remind me WHY we need the writers and actors strikes, this is a big flashing symbol as to why as execs haven't really changed how they treat animation, just the tactics for being shitty to it.

That being said as always it didn't stop the team from trying hard, as Sharon Morill, then vp of DisneyTVA which also ran these things, was determined to break the stigma. It sadly didn't happen, but I can't fault her for trying. And Lion King II did try. It had a four year development cycle, which for animation seems pretty normal, but for one of these films is twice the length. They also changed up some things along the way but we'll get more into that with the film itself. The film released to mostly good reviews, with no one liking it more than the first but still finding it a fine sequel. So what'd I think of it? Let's explore that shall we? A Good Idea at The Time The core of Lion King II isn't terrible. it has some cracks just from the foundation but it's a solid idea for a sequel: We focus now on Kiara, Simba's daughter, played by the star of one of my faviorite franchises and a huge get for the time, Scream star Neve Campbell, who was just coming off scream 2 when this film came out no less. She does a great job once we get to the present with what she has, suprising no one. This honestly wasn't a bad move: unlike most disney sequels the setup for one is there in the finale with Kiara's cornoation, which is where this film picks up before going into her life as a cub, then spending most of the film on her as a young adult. Not only that the film does have the clever idea to play off Simba's trauma: he's overprotective of his daughter and Nala can see it.. and it wears on her more and more with time, with her finding pride rock confining and being annoyed he constantly sends her gay grandpas to go spy on her. You can see both sides: To kiara the pridelands have become a cage her dad's keeping her in but you get that simba still has lingering trauma from both Mufasa's death and his own buffet of near death experinces. Simba is wrong to smother her like this, but you can at least see why he's like this.

This time though there's ANOTHER lead, Kovu, played by disney legend and goof Jason Marsden, which sets a trend: While Cambell is a big flashy name most of the cast are either returning form the first one or are vetran voice actors or tv stars. Nothing wrong with this as the cast with one glaring exception we'll get to all does a fantastic job. The only one not to return is Rowan Atkinson, whose replaced by Fraiser Vetran Edward Hibbert and who does.. fine. He's not as good as rowan, but he's not bad and Zazu isn't in the film enough for it to be a real issue.

Kovu is one of the outcasts, a group of lions who were banished from the pridelands for supporting scar wholeheartdly. I'm a bit torn on the outsiders as the concept: I like the idea Scar had actual supporters, that Simba, given how much scar had done to him, overreacted and banished them all instead of trying to work with them, giving them legit reasons beyond WE EVIL to hate Simba and want him dead. That said.. their also a MASSIVE retcon that makes zero sense in the context of the original film. What lionesses we saw hated Scar and resented him, the pridelands were dying so it's hard to see why anyone would support him, even a small pack , EXCEPT simply being evil, and NONE OF THEM did anything about scar being eaten by the hyenas nor against the rest of the lions, nor tried to start a war when Simba exiled them. The Hyenas are also conspciously absent as , despite Cheech Marin being tapped to return, they were apparently written out.

There's also a massive elephant in the room: See if you look at Kovu you notice he kinda LOOKS like Scar and his mom, the leader of the outcasts and one of the best parts of the film Zira, played by Suzanna Planchette to vllanous resentful perfection, acts more like a vengeful widow. Surely i'm just reading too much into this and Disney didn't SERIOUSLLY consider making a film about incest right?

Yes. I wish to Mufasa up above I was kidding. Granted this info is midly suspect as neither tv tropes nor wikipedia have a link for it.. but givne Kovu looks like scar, how Zira acts about her former leader and lover, and how it seems very weird Scar wouldn't just sire an heir outright and just pick some random baby, i'm feeling it's true and it's laughable they got as far as they did before someone said "Wait isn't this incest' Which yes, yes it is. It makes the romance between the two feel weird as even with the film trying to act like Kovu isn't scar's son just his heir... it still very much comes off like Kovu IS scar's son and no one brings it up becuase lions apparently give a much of a shit about incest as the writers of this flim did.

Zira and Kovu are fascinating though: Zir ais as clever as scar, has a swagger to her and seems just at all times like a snarling engine of vengance. Her husband is dead.. and so his murderer shall burn. She's not deeply complex, but she is incredibly fun to watch and sometimes tha'ts all you need. Kovu meanwhile has a LOT of fascinating layers: he shows up hostile to kira as a cub and it's clear with how the outsiders function that he's been raised as a weapon his whole life: only to fight an dsurvivie with what scraps they have out there. And his transition to adulthood is shattering: Kiara is just herself but older, simply less willing to take her dad's shit after a lifetime of it. Kovu by contrast goes from a fairly sweet innocent kid.. to a revenge engine modled by his mom to infiltrate the lions and kill simba. Marsden gives a truly awesome performance, with just what Kovu has become being clear.. but also that beneath that what he could get from Simba's side of things.. could be better.

The problem is that while the setup is really good, the first third of the film having the two as kids and setting up the situation, and it's enough that I just ignore the massive leaps needed for the outsiders to exist or the fact their basically the hyenas but as lions, the rest of the film... does almost nothing with it. Instead of diving into these two characters and especially Kovu's very complciated crisis of concious.. they just do things in the most most cliche and tired way possible: Kovu finds his new life almost instantly better and plans to tell Kiara asap but can't, his clan gets tired and attacks, Simba blames Kovu and tries to clamp down harder and kiara leaves, theyg o back to stop a war. it's basically west side story or romeo and juliet but speedran so all the actual conflict and emotoin is gone. Kovu dosen't even kill anyone, the death is on Simba for Kovu's brother.

Oh and since we have to talk about him at some point let's talk about Kovu's brother. His brother is Nuka, a shabby lion who thinks he should be heir but proves every second why he shoudln't and why his mom didn't choose him, basically being comedy relief. They then try to give him a tragic death scene which would work.. if it were not for one clear error. one horrible mistake that ruins the character. They cast Andy Dick to play him

Yeah even putting aside his harassment , general creepiness and the fact John Lovitz had FRESHLY punched him in the face for making a crack about Phil Hartman post death (AFTER also enabling Hartman's wife's drug addiction), WHY would , even for the price of a nickle, you cast ANDY DICK for a dramatic death. Even before we knew he was somehow even worse, Andy Dick's whole existance was to be a punching bag. you hire him to annoy your audience and your characters. You CAN have a comedy characters death mean something and be truly gutting, take 24's death in venture bros or even among disney hooty getting turned into a puppet during owl house. But you have to make us care about that character on some level beyond being a joke no one takes seriously first. With Nuka.. he's just a dick who envied his brother and stupidly challenged Simba to a fight. And even as much of a dick as Simba is in this film, more on that in a moment, Simba STILL tried to just bat Nuka away. Simba, despite being ambushed, despite his hatred of the outsiders, despite everything you'd expect.. WENT EASY ON HIM. He didn't want to kill anyone. He only started getting serious when Nuka, somehow, proved to be an actual opponent and didn't even kill him on purpose. The idea of Simba being forced to that is good, but it just dosen't work when the character is nothing and had no personality other than "Pralines and Dick". Fuck em. And most good ideas end up like Kovu or Pralines and Andy Dick. Kiara is mostly wasted, mostly just wanting to bone her cousin and having a fairly sterotpicla disney princess arc, Rafiki is just there to push the main couple together, and Simba .. simba gets done kinda wrong. While the idea of him turning to his worst impulses over trauma is good, the film has so much going on instead he just comes off as a massive prick whose prejduiced, judges Kovu because he , in the context of the film HAPPENS to look like his arch enemy and isn't related to him, and treats his daughter like shit. Brodrick tries but there isn't enough depth given to Simba or anyone for this flim to work. The film just feels half assed...

It dosen't help despite not really giving the story time to breathe.. it also spends a LARGGGGEEE MEATY CHUNK of the storytelling on musical numbers. There's about as many as the original.. but I can barely recall them, with all just feeling like half hearted rehashes of the originals And unlike the original films songs which were all vital to the plot in some way (Circle of Life set the tone and theme of the film, I Just Cant' Wait To Be King fully sets up Simba's character for the first act and has him ditching Zazu, Be Prepared fleshes out Scar and sets up his big plan to kill Mufasa while also revealing at it's start that Scar was working with the Hyenas and by it's end reveals the Hyenas as a real threat, Hakuna Matata handles the time skip and sets up Simba for the third act, and Can You Feel the Love Tonight? has Simba and Nala begin their romance, which is key in getting him to go home. ). In contrast while these numbers COULD commuincate key stuff, they all go on so long they just pad out a film that REALLY didn't need padding, it needed a liver and some kidneys to help it function better.

The one thing the film does really well.. is the animation. Seriously while you can tell this isnj't a theatrical budget.. you can also tell the animators stretched every dime they had to make this LOOK theatrical grade. While some shots i've seen, or some sequels i've seen outright look like they were made cheaply, Lion King II looks damn good and worthy of the original. Despite all the challenges it'd bring the characters still look expressive, colorful with just that hint of real animal movements that made the original's animation so damn good. It may not look as good as the original but for what they had to work with it looks as close as they could possibly get and that's DAMN impressive.

So yeah overall this film isn't great. I wanted to like it I did: It sounded good.. but the final product , even acknowlding the struggles they likely had, is so padded and full of wasted potetial it just makes me sad. It's still probably one of the better Disney Sequels as it both had a reson to exist, good ideas and the animation is again fucking beautiful. But it sadly isn't as much as it could've been. Hopefully when I get to Lion Guard at some point, we'll see what a lion king followup truly could've been. For now.. we can only watch this and see someone almost but not quite make it. Maybe if disney wasn't treating these like disposable money factories this could've actually worked.

#the lion king #the lion king ii: simba's pride #kiara #kovu #simba #zazu #timon and pumbaa #neve campbell #matthew broderick #jason marsden #andy dick

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honey-minded-hivemind · 6 months

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Fun Facts for the 🧿Clearsight!AU:

• The three tribes of Pantala (the SilkWings, HiveWings, and LeafWings) get along a little bit better in this au. There was still an event similar to the Tree Wars, but instead of the wicked HiveWing queen winning, the SilkWing queen giving up her throne, and the LeafWings nearly being wiped out, a less evil HiveWing royal challenged her and won the throne, and made peace between the two other queens and their tribes.

• The SilkWings live in the Hives and in their own silk web cities in the trees. The LeafWings still have a forest kingdom to live in. And everyone has at least one palace and major trade good.

• The three tribes have trade between each other, trading and selling various foods, drinks, art, supplies, and many other things, from various silk products, dyes, and tea from the SilkWings, fruits, herbs, and cuttings from the trees and vines that the LeafWings grow, and honey, meat, and medicine from the HiveWings.

• Each tribe's kingdom has at least one temple dedicated to the All-seer, and a dedicated Librarian and acolytes, who all defend the Book of the All-seer and its two copies from those who would steal it or destroy it. They upkeep the temple they are at, taking care of the grounds, cleaning the temple, and providing prayer scrolls for those who visit. They also will hold private council with those experiencing a crisis, to offer what comfort and aid they can to those in need.

• The tribes have their own stories of the All-seer, who had many, many legends behind their title. From stories of saving the tribes' ancestors from epic disasters, warning the descendants on how to prevent dangers to them, and various tales of how their guidance helped the historical queens and royal families steer away from ruin, there are countless stories about them and their powers. There are also a few places in libraries for books containing quotes or discussing the All-seer and their visions, as well as books analyzing their prophecies and dreams.

• The platonic yans aren't too fanatic. Some of them are religious, but their main goal is keeping the Reader safe, happy, and secure in their kingdom, while guiding them (and trying not to come off as obsessed, because dear moons this tiny dragonet looks exactly like their ancestor/deity THREE MOONS) They are trying to see the Reader as their own dragon, even if they all secretly belive they are the All-seer's reincarnation.

• The queens assign some of their best soldiers and advisors, possibly even a relative or two, to watch over the Reader. No one wants to risk someone hurting them or worse, and while sure, the All-seer seemed to see everything and the Reader is what they think is them come again, they'd rather not risk anything. That would be foolish on their part. No, best to cover every corner so nothing goes unnoticed and unstopped.

• The reader is rather friendly, if not a bit shy and awkward. They aren't used to other dragons and dragonets liking them so much. They also aren't always aware of social cues, such as what is or isn't appropriate to talk about (example: don't talk about gross, bloody, or squicky things when someone is eating. Other example: when in a scary/dark situation/place don't discuss all the ways you can die or the different odd deaths of people in gory detail). They are a kind, nervous dragonet, just rather paranoid and anxious.

• The reader likes sweets, meats, and citrus fruits. Lemon tarts, chocolate with orange peel, honey buns, lemon-and-herb salmon, honey-roasted turkey, sausage balls, and lemons, oranges, limes, and grapefruits.

• The platonic yanderes are unsure of how to deal with the reader. The dragonet who is supposed to be their ancient ancestor/deity is a seer, so they can possibly see anything they could do. That makes it hard to try anything, as the reader could simply foresee their actions and outmaneuver them. On the one talon, they find it amazing. On the other, it's rather annoying when your ward obsession can see what you plan to do and then avoid what you had planned. On the third talon, they're cute, so they aren't too upset with them.

• The adult platonic yanderes are very protective. They also ask all sorts of questions. They want to understand the reader, but aren't sure of the extent of their abilities, so they would like to understand more. And their ward child gets to ask them anything about them and their tribe! To them, what better way to bond than to understand each other, showing the other something entirely new?

• There are hugs. Many hugs, tail twining, wing nudging, head and snout touching, and general fluffy, loving gestures. The platonic yans want to show this tiny little prophet proper care and love, and the reader, unaware of their darker thoughts, wants to repay their kindness.

• And... everything between the reader and platonic yanderes is platonic!!! You have been forewarned😉

(Enjoy these fun facts for the 🧿Clearsight!AU!)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #🐉Wings of Fire AU #🧿Clearsight!AU

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lunarsands · 1 year

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ALSMP Fanfic: Who’s The Unfairest Of Us All

Characters: actual!angel!Sausage, starborne!Scott, cursed!angel!Myth, human!Smajor, goddess!PearlescentMoon

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: fictional religion, It’s the return of: Crossover between two Afterlife fic universes and What If The In-Love Versions Met The Murderous Versions?

WARNINGS: Violence, Injury, Bleeding, PTSD, threats of death, and well yes actual (temporary) death this time

Summary: Scott and Sausage find themselves transported to the parallel universe of their rivalrous versions, and end up stumbling across Myth and Smajor in their final sorry states. Myth, however, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, so Sausage has a fight on his hands far unlike the last one.

Sequel to Mirror Mirror, Break Our Fall. Takes place sometime after the events of Hellbent and Wherever These Flowers May Grow.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[A/N: I had zero plans to make a sequel to Mirror Mirror but sometimes when you’re doing some cathartic writing an idea emerges that is too good to pass up. So here we are: the crossover is now canon to both universes, barring mentions in the Soul Liminality 2: I Would Die For You universe. I did kind of have a feeling I shouldn’t have labeled Soul Liminality (1) as Complete…]

---

“Have a nice trip around the skies, my starlight,” Sausage said, giving Scott a peck on the cheek as they stood amid the drifting motes of gold emitted by the dark blue flowers in the garden. Right after dusk was their favorite time to pause and have a few minutes between just the two of them, when Sausage’s daily duties had ended and Scott’s nightly work was about to begin.

“Have a good night,” Scott replied, smiling softly in return. “I’ll see you in the morn— Or, not? Sausage,” he questioned with a gently chiding tone, “Were you ignoring a summons just to say goodbye? That’s sweet and all, but you could simply say it right away then go to Pearl.”

“I… wasn’t? What do you mean?”

“You’re glowing.”

Sausage gave a sappy grin. “Well, that’s because I’m so happy to be with you right now.”

“No, I mean literally glowing! Don’t you feel that??”

Sausage looked down at himself at the same time that Scott grabbed him by the arm. His body was limned in silvery light, reminiscent of when Pearl had turned him into a flame to travel out of the celestial realm into the mortal world. “W-Wait, I. I don’t know what’s happening!”

“So, it’s not Pearl?” Scott hastily looked around in case they managed to summon her for an explanation.

“No, I don’t hear anything. Wait…you’re glowing, too. And not like normal.”

Scott checked his own arms. The new glow outshined the violet sparkles on his skin. Then he felt a tug like when he was passing the edge of a planet’s gravitational field. He gripped Sausage tighter as the seraph’s form wavered into that flamelike shape from the last time they had left home. “Don’t let go of me!”

Sausage responded by clasping Scott in a half-hug with his free arm and wrapping his wings around the starborne as the light around both of them flared even brighter.

When the light faded out, they found themselves standing in complete darkness; even the glittering of Scott’s skin and the tiny constellation around his head were engulfed by it. Sausage cautiously folded his wings back but kept a hand on Scott so they stayed together. He whispered, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere underground. Very far underground.”

“How do you know? And how come you’re not sparkling like usual?”

“My powers have been cut off. No sky, no starlight – not even any radiating from me. The further down, the weaker I get. So, we’re… close to bedrock by my reckoning.”

“Oh… That makes sense, but isn’t great news.” Sausage went quiet, then made a sound like he was straining to do something. “Um, nope. My holy aura isn’t working, either. Is this magical darkness?”

“Both maybe. I still wouldn’t have much power underground, even if this was only magic.”

“Let me try something else.” This time the blackness was pierced by a sliver of pale yellow light as he pulled his flaming sword from thin air. It was unnervingly dim, however. “Well, it’s something.” Sausage held the sword up high to get a glimpse of their surroundings, although he maintained a grip on Scott’s hand for the moment.

They appeared to be in a cave made of deepslate, netherbrick, and blackstone. Scott frowned, puzzled. “That’s not normal. I’m pretty sure I could also tell if we were in the Nether.”

“Let’s… have a look around,” Sausage said, tone cautious. “There has to be more caves and tunnels somewhere, and there’s got to be a way up to the surface. The sooner we get you out to open sky, the better.”

Scott chuckled. “Don’t count me out completely. Can you summon more than one sword at a time? I can still use a weapon, it doesn’t have to be my own.”

“You know, I never really thought to try!” Sausage handed the flaming sword to Scott; as soon as it cleared his fingers, the flames disappeared, but the sword itself remained solid. Stuck in total darkness again, Sausage held his arm up high to not potentially pull out another sword right in front of Scott’s face.

What he pulled out of the air instead was a wedge-shaped shield dusted in muted flames. It featured a pair of simplified feathered wings and a sunflower in the middle toward the top. “Huh! Learn something new every day! It never occurred to me that would happen!” He added in a mutter, “No one ever told me, either.”

“You’re too busy using your own body as a shield,” Scott pointed out with another chuckle.

“My swordsmanship is so good I don’t need one – come on, now!”

“All right, then. We’ll switch. You get the flaming sword, and run offense, I’ll take the shield and be defense.” As the items changed hands, the flames along the shield went out while the sword flared back up, yet still not as bright as they should have been. Scott settled the shield against his forearm, hefting it a few times to get a sense of its weight, then joined Sausage in checking along the walls for openings or the sound of bats that could lead them to another cave.

~*~

Smajor lazily played floor hockey with the clock Myth had so generously given him after he had whined long enough about at least letting him know what time it was, if not what day. Of course, it did immediately break when Myth dropped it between the bars of the window in the iron door, but it gave Smajor something to do other than stare up at the ceiling or occasionally toss the discarded arm guard, which Myth had once used to keep a tally of Smajor’s deaths, against the door just to hear it clang.

He had no idea what Myth was doing with his time. He always seemed to just be sitting out there, cloaked in his ichor-soaked wings and staring at a soul lantern on the barely discernible table beside a wall of sculk. The entire chamber that the cell was situated in seemed to be made entirely of sculk. He figured that was intentional so Myth could mislead him into believing they were where a Warden could spawn, discouraging Smajor from trying to escape since a Warden could effortlessly pummel him when he had absolutely nothing to use to try to get away from it. However, he had never heard a shrieker or a sensor go off despite the clangs and scrapes, and he was certain he was being loud enough to trigger one if they existed nearby.

Smajor had also entertained the thought of throwing the clock at Myth to make a noise, but he both didn’t want to lose it nor risk Myth deciding to alleviate boredom by taking the sword that was lying beside the lantern and running him through a few dozen times.

It's not like there was any danger of the helpless Smajor suddenly reviving with new powers. But he was glad Myth hadn’t made it a hobby to kill him on a regular basis just for the fun of it. He also wouldn’t admit that he was glad the clock partially worked – ticking quietly every so often, but never changing time, as if the mechanism that counted the seconds was still trying to do its job.

With a sigh, he lightly whacked the clock with the side of his foot so that it slid under the bed. Then he turned to the door and stuck his arms out between the bars, letting them hang down as he leaned on the door. There was Myth, only visible by the light of the blue lantern and flickers of sculk, jet black wings held partially unfolded and moving ever-so-slightly as the cursed angel breathed.

Unable to see Myth’s face at that angle, Smajor wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not. Well, he wasn’t sure if he ever actually slept at all, but since he himself fell asleep regularly, those were the times he couldn’t exactly check to find out.

He debated whether to try counting the specks of pulsing turquoise in the wall again. Then something new caught his eye. Somewhere on the far end of the chamber seemed to be something bright that was reflecting off of… whatever was over there. He couldn’t see that far in the rest of the darkness to be sure. “Hey, what’s that?”

Myth shifted but didn’t turn. “Oh, stop. That didn’t work the first two hundred times, it isn’t going to work now.”

“No, I’m serious! There’s a – a light! Yeah, it’s a light, I’m pretty sure. There’s never anything else bright down here. You should know that.”

Myth grunted in annoyance and continued to not look.

“Have you gone blind, too?” Smajor made a noise of disgust. “Not that it would surprise me if you’re going off some freakish angel senses at this point. I—” His breath caught in his throat. He recognized that particular color and type of flickering light. He swore and backed away from the bars. “Hey, uh. You don’t think one of your brethren would come to check on how good of a job you’re doing keeping me locked up, do you?”

Myth finally moved to stand up, hands leaning on the table. “What nonsense are you on about? It’s probably some idiot spelunker who just made the worst mistake of their life by managing to find their way down here.”

Smajor edged forward enough to see Myth start to move away toward the other end of the chamber. He backed up again, then cast his gaze around the tiny, obsidian-lined cell. He snatched up the meager piece of armor laying on the floor and slipped it on. It didn’t fit too well, but it could serve as some shred of defense.

~*~

As Sausage and Scott entered a spacious cavern, they felt a little more hope that one of the shelves at the higher reaches would contain a passage leading upwards. So far, the tunnels and caves had been mostly flat and sealed on top.

Sausage pointed between two dripstone pillars toward a large lake. A lavafall higher up lent some light to the far side of the water, but was barely enough to reach the section they stood in. He whispered, “Someone has been down here, at one time anyway.” They saw several discarded buckets on the shore of the lake.

“Maybe someone collecting obsidian,” Scott suggested, also keeping his voice quiet.

“They don’t seem to have left a trail out of there, unfortunately.”

“That might mean they flew in. Which means they also flew out. Let’s look around over here more, just in case, then figure out how to get over there. Although this does seem to be another dead end…”

“And that’s a lot of sculk,” Sausage griped. “I don’t see any sensors anywhere yet, but they could be on the other side. I’m not particularly interested in trying to fight a Warden without knowing if there’s another exit nearby. I mean, we could hide out up top until it goes away, but we might trigger another one when we come back down to, uh. Retrace our steps.”

“We’ll have to check eventually,” Scott whispered back. “I think the question is whether you go up alone or take me with you. …Wait, hold on – I think there’s a passage over there.” He was sneaking closer to the wall of sculk that had spread nearly halfway across the floor.

Sausage stood still for a second, muttering, “Yeah, um, I don’t think going through more sculk is going to lead out.” He tiptoed after him anyway, holding his sword up to give Scott more light, although he even more reluctantly followed him into the passageway.

…Right up until the starborne stopped and uttered a string of awkward noises. “Um. Hehn. Uh. Sorry, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. We’ll just, um, be… leaving…”

Sausage heard him draw a sharp breath, then saw what he was staring at.

…Who he was staring at.

Sausage’s hand unconsciously went up to touch his right cheek. “It… can’t be…” He was looking at himself, but with jet black wings, ragged and torn clothes, with sculk vein running along the side of his face and across the top wing on that side, and also down his arm – and four horizontal scars to go with the one over his eye.

What were the odds of another version of him having the exact same scars as…

“Myth?” Sausage asked in horrified wonder.

“You,” the other responded, voice low and yet oddly calm.

Scott raised the shield. Myth had changed since the last time they had seen him; there was no telling if his feelings toward them had, as well.

Smajor attempted to get a view of what was happening, but Myth’s stupid multiple pairs of wings were blocking everything. What he heard, however, was a voice just like Myth’s but less gravelly. His hands squeezed the bars until his knuckles turned white. “It can’t be… It cannot be. H-How? Why?” He growled quietly. Those two…

Myth then uttered a dry laugh and turned with an arm extended like a host inviting guests into the parlor. “Oh, do come in. Welcome to our little home. It’s less comfortable than the limbo dimension was, but neither of you look like you need water or room to change gravity.”

“Yeah, welcome!” Smajor called out. “Don’t be scared – you’re not the ones on the wrong side of the bars!” He added darkly, “Or are you…”

“We’ll settle for the exit,” Scott replied, although he snuck a glance past Myth to try to see what state his own double was in.

Myth put a hand on the top edge of the shield and pushed it downward. “I’d like to insist. Maybe you could at least explain how you got here, never mind what you’re doing here in the first place. The ancient city is miles away. You can’t tell me you went through your side, got through that entire maze again, and came through our portal for no reason.” There was an edge to his voice and Scott didn’t like the way he was staring at Sausage – or maybe it was just that the flaming sword was making Myth nervous.

If his powers had been working, he would have let off a burst of sparks to blind the two who were apparently used to living in the sculk-infested darkness. He sorely wished he and Sausage had investigated the top of the neighboring cavern right away.

Meanwhile, Sausage lowered his sword. “We didn’t do anything. One minute we were standing around at home, then there was a bright light, and then we were here! Well, several caves and tunnels back that way, technically.”

“Just out of the blue?” Myth questioned. He moved into the chamber and leaned against the table, appearing to sound genuinely curious.

Smajor snickered at how out of place the attempt at a casual attitude looked. “Very good, Myth, you seem so normal right now.” He then flicked a hand at Scott. “So, what even are you? I didn’t turn into anything that looked like that. Not that I remember everything I was before this. You’ll have to ask him if I ever turned purple and… fancy, or whatever it is you’ve got going on. What type of powers do you have? I’m starved for knowledge of the outside world – tell me, tell me.”

Scott shook his head. “That’s for me to know and you not to find out.” He then looked at Myth. “So… this was your solution? You brought him back and put him in a cell…?”

“Oh, there were a few altercations after we got back. You know, since it didn’t take long for him to find a way to kill me. But that first one he did to me after getting back, well…” Myth took a step forward and stretched out his wings, forcing Scott and Sausage to move clear in opposite directions, with the starborne ending up uncomfortably close to his depowered double.

Sausage noticed the black spatters of ichor on the ground and raised a finger to ask something, but Myth turned his attention back to Scott and said, “Now, see, you don’t know! You didn’t get the honor of looking into my soul and my private memories! This is what’s called poetic irony. You see, when he was a vampire, he imprisoned me in a little dungeon and had himself angel blood on tap until he finally drained me enough times that I became a wither.” Myth smiled sardonically. “And you thought ‘accidentally’ killing your angel was the worst thing you ever did!”

Scott darted a pained look at Sausage; the seraph mouthed the words, ‘I didn’t tell him about that,’ in a hasty defense.

Myth swung a lazy glance between the two. “The soul thing went both ways, by the way. So, I got a glimpse of your past. And now look at you.” Here he turned toward Sausage, spreading his wings just enough to block Scott. “All shining silver and holy fire still at your call. Of course this would happen – it makes perfect sense we ended up as opposites. How is life in the celestial realm? As you can see…” Here his voice went from a casual conversational tone to completely flat, “I’m two steps from hell.”

Sausage gazed back at his double with nothing but sympathy. “Myth… What happened to you? You obviously became a seraph, too, but… what’s wrong with your wings? Why are they dripping like… you’ve got a permanent wound?”

“Oh, you should have seen them when they were red! It was even more ghastly!”

Sausage’s eyes widened. “Wait – red, like blood? But that only happens if—” He stopped himself as realization hit. “Right. Of course.” He bowed his head, then cast a sad look toward where the cell sat beyond Myth’s wings.

“So, you do know the stories,” Myth said dispassionately.

“I… Well, I had a nightmare about that once.”

“Lucky you! Only a nightmare!” Myth flapped his bottom wings once, sending ichor splattering onto the ground. “Well, this is the reality of what happens when an angel kills someone, hmm, how many was it, Smajor?”

The reply came in a feigned weary tone. “One hundred and three.” Smajor surreptitiously clutched the arm guard he now wore.

“That was it,” Myth confirmed with a nod. “Kill someone over a hundred times, you get a cursed angel.”

“Myth…” Sausage’s voice was full of sorrow. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I… I don’t know what can be done. But maybe we can find a way to help—”

Myth suddenly closed his hand around the hilt of the sword on the table, although it was his empty hand that he lashed out with to shove Sausage backward. His face twisted into a snarl. “You don’t get to just show up now and try to redeem me again! It didn’t really work the first time! It gave me the power I needed, but I was doomed from the start!!” He swung the sword. Its darkly-stained blade clashed with the bright edge of Sausage’s sword as the seraph answered with a blocking maneuver.

“Sausage!” Scott cried, about to leap over to help, but was yanked back when something snagged the collar of his overcoat. Rage crossed his own face; he had ended up too close to Smajor, which was something he had wanted to avoid. He spun around, ripping the fabric free from the other’s hand.

Smajor let his arm hang down outside the window; the other arm, with the guard on it, he kept snug between his chest and the door. “Oh, relax. I can’t do anything. I don’t have any powers at all anymore. But, hear me out – let’s just have a little entertainment! Yours has got to be more powerful than mine, still being holy and all. Let him wipe the floor with Myth, then we’ll see about this ‘help’ you might be able to offer. And figure out whatever mysterious force brought you here, of all places.”

Scott regarded him with exasperation. “So, you didn’t learn anything from all this?”

“Was I supposed to? I still want to wring his neck, given the chance.” Smajor smirked then licked his lips. “He’s so convinced he was destined to be my jailer. I could at least make it worth his time.”

Scott rolled his eyes then said dryly, “I see Sausage fixed it so you weren’t an unhinged psychopath anymore. Now you’re just a regular one.”

The clash of steel drew his attention back to the two angels as Myth forced Sausage into the passageway. Scott felt like he had missed his window to be defense like he had proposed. This is just like the last time. I couldn’t do much before as a fish out of water, all I had was a trident. He looked at the shield. I don’t know if I could even throw this effectively since I haven’t gotten used to it yet… And I doubt I’m suddenly going to start getting any of my other powers back.

Smajor let out an exaggerated groan. “Aww, I can’t see what’s going on if they leave! Hey – purple me. Snap out of it and let me out of here so I can watch! You can be my new guard. I promise I’ll behave.” He grinned with a look that was everything the complete opposite of innocence.

“I think you’ll be fine for a few minutes without supervision.” Scott eyed the numerous locks on the door that only now were noticeable in the unhindered light from the soul lantern. It hadn’t sounded like Myth had that many keys on him when he moved, which meant they were hidden somewhere. Smajor was the least of his concerns, anyway. The sound of Sausage crying out in pain was the immediate one, so he ran toward the passage. He would figure out how to aid his partner when he got there.

Smajor gripped the bars with both hands and growled again. “I hate all of you…”

Sausage did his best to meet every swing and made some attempts to push back, sweeping his wings out of the way and dodging as Myth struck at him relentlessly – wild yet controlled enough to land hits; the cursed angel was eerily precise. He was enraged, yes, but clearly more sane than Smajor had been back in the limbo dimension. Surely Sausage could try to reason with him. “Myth! Please! We don’t have to fight! Let me hel—”

“THAT’S why!” Myth shouted. “Stop looking at me like I’m someone to be saved! You can’t save everyone, Sausage! Someone has to fall through the cracks sometime! You can hold out your hand all you want but that doesn’t mean you’re going to catch them!” As if to emphasize the point, he yanked his sword away and beat his wings, lifting up just enough to perform a kick that sent Sausage stumbling backward.

Sausage quickly caught his balance, although he clutched his chest plate where the kick had landed. “But... But you’re me! How do I give up on myself??”

“Easy.” Myth shifted his wings and dived forward, whipping his sword to the side to slash Sausage’s arm between the edges of his armor plates. “You stop caring.”

Sausage stumbled again, crying out in pain. The bite of the cursed angel’s blade hurt much more than he was expecting.

Myth kept in step with him, slashing again and again before Sausage could recover, slicing into his wings and hitting spots the gleaming silver armor didn’t cover. “Just shut it off,” he continued coldly. “Shut off the part of you that cares. It’s the only way to survive. The. Only. Way.”

He kicked Sausage again to send the seraph to his knees. Clutching at one of the wounds on his arm, Sausage found himself out of words for the moment. He looked at the palm of his hand as he drew it away. It wasn’t blood there, but black ichor, as if Myth’s sword had bled into him. The slashes across his wings were similarly staining his feathers black, with the color spreading as it dripped through the layers of silvery white.

Myth stared down at him with bitterness. “I could have gone an eternity without ever seeing either of you again. I didn’t need to be reminded of everything I can’t have.” He brought his blade up, but Sausage got a foot under himself and was able to brace his sword in time to block the strike, then he forced his body upward to push Myth back and then throw the cursed angel’s arms wide, with Myth needing to catch his own balance, which involved spreading his wings and sending droplets of ichor flying.

The effort brought a fresh wave of pain from each one of Sausage’s wounds and he had to back off, hand clamped over one of the gashes on his sword arm. “A-And if I don’t want to do that?” he weakly protested.

“Then you had better hope whatever brought you here decides to step in and take you back, because I can’t stand to keep looking at you.” Myth’s expression was once more all cold and bitterness as he raised his sword. Sausage gripped the hilt of his blade with both hands, but wasn’t sure he had the strength to block again. He folded one of his top wings across his face to act as a meager barrier.

Mercy didn’t register for even the briefest second as Myth started to bring the sword down. He would have no qualms about slicing through those pure, bright feathers.

Then Scott ploughed into him from the side, shield leading. He continued the charge until the ground turned into dripstone and he nearly shoved the cursed angel past the columns into the next part of the cavern. Myth flailed his wings, battering at Scott from around the shield. Scott tried to keep his head down behind it, but the feeling of the thick, wet ichor on his neck made him balk from revulsion.

He whipped the shield to the side, knocking Myth’s wings away, then he turned and ran back to where Sausage had dropped to his knees with a hand braced on the ground. Scott took a defiant stance over him. “Sausage, can you get up? What’s happening with those wounds? You… aren’t bleeding, but…”

“His – His sword. It’s become an unholy weapon. It’s hurting me differently than a normal one would.”

Scott glanced down with concern, although he didn’t want to take his eyes off Myth for too long; the cursed angel did seem to be weighing what to do with a fresh combatant that might not be affected by his weapon in the same way, and hadn’t moved yet. “Then you need to heal yourself quickly! Don’t worry about him attacking, I’ll protect you.”

“B-But, if you get hit, you can’t heal like me!”

“Focus on yourself first.” Scott flicked a glance at Myth, then looked squarely at Sausage and said grimly, “Because I need you to get back in this fight so I can do something to get us out of here. I have one power I can use…”

The seraph struggled to his feet, silver light now dancing over his wounds, although the stains on his feathers persisted. “But we don’t even know if there is a way out up there!” He nodded upward once, thinking Scott meant he had an energy reserve enough for an emergency boost to the rocky shelf above.

“I’ll make one,” Scott replied. He adjusted his feet and braced himself when it looked like Myth might be about to rush at them.

Instead, Sausage grabbed the shield from him and shot forward in a flurry of wings and fading silver light as his healing ability finished its work. With a beat of his wings, he leapt upward to lend more force to his attack. Myth launched himself to meet him halfway, taking the fight to the air. The cursed blade clashed with the now blazing shield. Myth didn’t seem concerned about his own lack of such defense, relying on his long-honed agility in flight to dodge Sausage’s strikes while attempting to land hits on the seraph once again, showing no hesitation in the face of the holy flames.

While they fought above, Scott walked to the center of the cavern and raised one hand, closing his eyes as he concentrated on cosmic wavelengths far beyond the reach of stone and soil. He grasped hold with his command of planetary gravity and urged it to answer his call.

One of the tiny stars orbiting his head winked out. He felt one of the many taut threads of local gravity slacken. It seemed to have worked, yet now he could only wait in anticipation to see if the meteor strike would actually arrive.

He smiled in satisfaction at the sound of rumbling. When chips of stone began to drop from the ceiling, he took off running in the direction opposite of the sculk passageway. “Sausage! Get clear of the middle!!”

With large pieces of stone starting to fall around them, Sausage made one last, powerful sweep of his wings while at the same time drawing his legs up to plant his feet on Myth’s chest. Then he punted him downward, subsequently sending him away from the center as well. Sausage hastily swooped after Scott as massive cracks spread overhead.

The ceiling gave way as a nine-meter-wide meteorite crashed through, opening the underground to the night sky.

As he flew clear, Myth stared over his shoulder in disbelief. He couldn’t even fathom whatever powers it was that Scott had, since he hadn’t manifested any other type of offense until that moment. Myth then had to shield his body with his top and bottom wings as the meteorite’s impact with the floor threw more debris everywhere, the shockwave sending chunks of deepslate on a horizontal axis into every available opening in the walls.

Through the clouds of dust, Myth saw the white flash of Sausage’s wings as he sped upward to the brand-new exit to the surface, and he assumed the seraph was carrying Scott with him. He was incensed by their escape, but he knew there was a possibility that the impact could have damaged the cell, so he glided down to check.

He completely missed the streak of bright violet sparkles that followed after Sausage.

The sculk in the passageway had been scored by one piece of large debris that had been flung into the chamber; that piece now rested up against the iron door, which had been rammed directly in the middle, buckling it inward and tearing the hinges clean off at the top and bottom. Smajor was in the process of wiggling out through the gap close to the floor. He had cut his hip on the edge of the broken door, but wasn’t letting that stop him as he pulled himself along far enough to get his legs free of the cell.

Then he looked up and saw Myth.

He swore.

Myth strode over and grabbed him by one arm to haul him to his feet. “We’ll have to find a new place to put you later. Let me show you why you wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway.” He dragged Smajor out to the main cavern and then let him just stare at the hunk of space rock embedded in the middle. “Only way out now is up,” Myth declared, with heavy emphasis on the last word.

Smajor could only stutter in response. “Whu – What did this??”

“Well, I know angels can’t call down huge meteors. The other me would have used holy fire, even though it would have taken a while for it to blast through this deep. Whatever your double is did this.” Myth squeezed Smajor’s arm. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.” With a beat of his wings and spray of ichor, he launched upward, taking Smajor with him via a painful wrenching of his shoulder.

He hadn’t seemed to have noticed that Smajor was wearing the arm guard, although Smajor himself doubted it was going to serve any purpose.

Sausage landed a meter or two from the edge of the giant hole, taking a moment to assess his new wounds. He knelt on one knee to put down his sword and shield so he could have both hands free to get a better look at his still-stained feathers – but still be able to grab them again if Myth should happen to come shooting out of the hole in pursuit.

He smiled instead when he saw a trail of purple sparkles arcing up into the air before Scott came back down, his body completely aglow then fading into his regular form – now with his skin glittering once again and the constellation around his head twinkling in the moonlight.

Scott smiled at him in return, then leaned to pick up the sword and shield to hold them for him. “How are the wounds? Are you feeling all right?”

“They still kind of sting. Maybe a little more time and they’ll feel better, but I could go for a regen potion right about now.”

“Since we have a moment, do you have any ideas for what we should even do here? This is their world, not the limbo dimension, and even if we stand a better chance at defeating Myth now that I can use all my powers, that doesn’t necessarily solve things.”

“I’m not sure,” Sausage admitted fretfully. “If he’s gone beyond a fallen angel, there isn’t much that can be done. He had a point… Redemption for angels only goes so far depending on their deeds.”

They didn’t get a chance to discuss the matter further, because right then Myth rose out of the pit with Smajor dangling from his hold. The cursed angel landed a mere ten steps away, and kept a grip on Smajor’s arm. Smajor gawked at Scott but didn’t comment on his now glittery appearance.

Sausage took his sword and shield from Scott, reigniting the flames on them, and held them at the ready, eyeing the sword in Myth’s other hand.

Scott raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Myth, we never meant you any harm. We don’t know why we’re here, but the fact that we did end up in your vicinity must mean the reason is connected to you. Maybe you weren’t meant to save yourself, but an outside perspective could make a difference.”

“If you’re going to start with your forgiveness nonsense again, don’t bother. And don’t you start pitying me, too,” Myth spat. “I don’t need both of you acting like saviors. And I didn’t need to be reminded that there was a happier option out there, or that it was destined to be exactly opposite of my life! I don’t want what you have, but I didn’t ask for this, either! Yet all I could do was accept it. Don’t try to change it now. You’re far too late for that.”

He jerked on Smajor’s arm, causing him to stumble in front of him. Then Myth drew back his other hand—

And then the point of his sword was sticking out of Smajor’s chest.

Smajor looked down, emitting a choked noise. “Yep… That… That still hurts…”

Myth yanked the sword out then threw him to the ground, where he curled up to quietly bleed out. Sausage and Scott stared grimly; a tense stalemate followed. Sausage’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he was in no hurry to engage the cursed angel again.

After another minute, Smajor gasped in a breath. He didn’t move, although he did groan out, “Oh, I did not miss that happening…”

Scott and Sausage now traded looks, both realizing Smajor hadn’t changed before reviving. The starborne questioned warily, “Wait, so, he wasn’t just a plain human on that life? What have you done to him?”

“This is what I meant,” Myth replied. “This is it for us. The end result. We go no further, we get no other chances, we’re like this forever.”

Sausage thought back to what he had told Scott moments ago about redemption. “Then… why are we here??” he despaired.

“Maybe,” Myth said in a bland tone as he picked Smajor up by the arm again, “You were sent simply to learn to temper that hero complex of yours. I’ll say it again: you can’t save everyone.” He stepped over to the pit, and the two thought that he was planning to take his leave and lock Smajor up again, and that had been his final word.

Instead, he shoved Smajor over the edge – dropping him to another certain death.

Sausage dismissed his weapons back to thin air and dived toward the rim of the pit, the thought in his mind of this has to stop! not making it to his lips.

“WHAT did I just SAY?!” Myth yelled, darting after him with sword leading to intercept him. “Are you just compelled to rescue people?!” He slashed one of Sausage’s middle wings, sending him off-kilter toward the wall of the pit.

Before Myth could follow, a dazzling burst of purple light exploded in front of him. He dashed a fist across his eyes in reaction.

Scott approached him, a sparking sphere of starlight held in reserve at his side. “Well, then what are you? Compelled to murder?” He would have to hope Sausage had been able to stabilize his flight, if not catch Smajor on the way down. He didn’t hear any sounds from the pit yet, but didn’t want to try to rush directly past Myth, either. Of course, now that he was out in the open, he could call down a star strike almost instantaneously to deal with the cursed angel.

“From pity to judging, here we go.” Myth pointed his sword at Scott. “I guess you’ve never once had the thought in your sparkly head to pay back someone for an injustice done to you. Lucky you.”

Scott decided to try sidling around for a better position to get past him. “Not unless you count an injustice I committed myself, that one day put me in a position to take the revenge another could have enacted upon me, and I was ready to remain locked in limbo to atone for it.”

Myth sneered. “Yes, I already know about the guilt trip you gave yourself, no need to go on about it.”

“Actually, this was something else that came later, but facing it freed me to become this.” Clenching his fist around the sphere, Scott then held his hand outward. From the sky came a shower of twinkling violet, nearly landing on Myth’s head; the sparks danced across his wings, causing him to growl in pain and attempt to dodge out from under the star strike. Scott moved his hand to follow him and maintained the strike until Myth charged toward him. Then he conjured another sphere in one hand and reached into it with the other, pulling out a sword made of the same glowing purple starstuff.

“Of course,” Myth muttered. The sight didn’t stop him; all the glittering light and shining gold of Scott’s overcoat only increased his resentment, and soon he was caught up in a duel with the more nimble starborne.

Out of reflex, Sausage pulled in his freshly injured wing as the pain caused by the cursed blade flared. He had just enough time to tuck his top pair of wings against his neck to cushion it as well as the back of his head before he crashed into the wall. Pain spiked along his back but faded as he dropped downward. He forced both of his middle wings to spread enough to soften his landing, but then he let all six hang limply after he was on his feet. He didn’t know why he had bothered going in to try to catch Smajor; he had fought him before when they were both gravitals, and Smajor had done whatever he could to make Sausage miserable, along with attempting to slash his throat toward the end.

Maybe Myth was right.

Smajor lay in a crooked sprawl against the side of the meteorite. From the looks of things, it might take a little longer than the earlier stabbing for him to revive. Sausage wasn’t sure what to do with him this time. It wasn’t like he could purify his soul or… anything, really. Was there even anywhere safe he could put him? Because it seemed like the only option was to go back up to the surface, and it wasn’t like Sausage could deposit him somewhere else in the world and ask him to go live a peaceful life without trying to get revenge on Myth for, well, everything, all over again.

Sausage sat down, leaning on the other side of the meteorite to try to think while keeping a feathery ear out for when Smajor revived. Yet not two seconds later he realized with resignation that the safest thing would be to secure Smajor before he woke up. Sausage doubted he would have anything constructive to offer.

By the time he got back over to Smajor, the regenerative magic of the world had knitted him back together to a point where Sausage could pick him up without a leg hanging oddly; his ribcage wasn’t doing so well, however. The seraph tried not to think about how this could just as easily be his Scott, roughed up and grimy… with an arm guard identical to his own but severely damaged, countless lines grouped by five scratched into the metal.

Not countless, he corrected himself. One hundred and three. Or one hundred and five now, he supposed.

Sausage made his way through the sculk-filled passageway. He surveyed the destruction within and set Smajor down on the floor, hoping he stayed unconscious a little longer. He studied the iron door, then drew out his sword and focused on making the flames burn hotter. He made short work of the remaining hinge, then pulled the buckled metal out of the way. He carried Smajor into the cell. He sighed at the futility and placed him on the bed.

What to do about the open doorway, though…

Sausage took a quick look around outside. Under the table was a well-camouflaged black shulker box with sculk vein all over it. He grimaced but pulled enough of the pulsating substance off to get the box open. Inside were a dozen keys, a diamond pickaxe, and ten pieces of obsidian.

Well, two would do.

He gave another resigned look at Smajor before placing the first block in front of the cell doorway rather than directly inside it. He would let Myth worry about uncovering him later.

Smajor suddenly bolted up and lunged at the doorway, shoving his right arm in the way of the block Sausage had been about to place. “Don’t cut me off from everything!” he protested, then coughed, which resulted in a bit of blood flecking the corner of his mouth. “Leave me a little window or something, so I can at least see Myth coming when he comes back down here to murder me again!”

Sausage gazed back at him with an empty expression, then said softly, “Maybe don’t give him a reason to.”

“You saw what he did up there! I wasn’t even moving!”

Sausage began to lower the second piece of obsidian. “I can’t do anything to help you. All I can do is put things back in their place.”

Smajor tried to fake a hurt look, but then his face hardened. He slid his arm back and clutched the arm guard. He glanced from it to the one that Sausage wore, but said nothing else.

The seraph sighed; well, at least he had moved his arm out of the way and didn’t try to keep Sausage stuck there in some moral quandary of whether or not to drop the obsidian on him to finishing sealing him in.

He turned away with another sigh. As he exited the passageway and had the moonlight to see by, he pulled one of his wings forward to look at the ichor-damaged feathers. He plucked out one that was almost fully gray and turned it over in his hand. It didn’t look like a stain that could be washed off, and the healing light hadn’t fixed them, either. He would have to hope they molted over time. Until then, maybe they would be a reminder of Myth’s words.

He directed his healing ability to the slash on his middle wing so he could fly out of the pit again.

Myth was finding it to be a lot harder to fight Scott. There was less surface area to strike at – no extra appendages, and at times it seemed the starborne’s limbs were only made of ethereal light that his blade passed right through before Scott twisted to strike back at him. There was now red mixing with the black from cuts on the cursed angel’s wings; Scott wasn’t pulling punches, whereas Sausage had been distracted by trying to talk things out.

Finally, Myth resorted to sweeping his wings to carry him backward away from Scott. He then threw his middle ones upward to cover the area over his head against another star strike.

Scott held his free hand up with a sphere of light on his palm again to keep that threat hanging over the cursed angel. “So, where does it end, Myth? When do you consider the never-ending cycle of revenge to be over? How much more hate and death do you want to have weighing on your soul? You don’t want me to repeat things, but I know very well how past failings over even just nine lives can keep someone from their true potential.”

“Potential? Have you been paying attention? O p p o s i t e s. We weren’t meant for this chivalry and glory that you two have! You achieved it, so someone else wasn’t supposed to! Our lives were sacrificed for yours! Now take that guilt and shove it up your pretentious, sparkly—”

At that moment Sausage soared up out of the pit and flew over Myth’s head, almost grazing the upheld wings, but went on to land next to Scott. He put a hand on Scott’s arm and made him lower it. “We’re going.”

“Saus—what? Going where?” Scott shot him a bewildered look before returning a watchful gaze to Myth in case the cursed angel pounced.

“We’re not here to change their fates.” He tugged on Scott’s arm to pull him away from continuing the fight.

Myth snorted. “Thanks for finally catching on! Just going to walk away, then? No last speech to tell me if I believe in myself enough, I’ll become pretty and shiny, too?”

“No,” Sausage called back over his shoulder. “I’m done talking. You’ve reminded me that I once heard someone say ‘No one can save all the world, but we should save who we can.’ You don’t want to be saved, so I’ll find someone who does.”

“Yeah?” Myth clenched his teeth then shouted, “And you DIDN’T HAVE TO COME REMIND ME THAT ANY HOPE WAS OUT THERE!”

Sausage turned his face away from him and instead scooped Scott up in his arms to wash off the memory of having so recently held Smajor the same way. Scott didn’t question it; Sausage didn’t seem about to give a destination, and Scott wasn’t going to go bounding off without knowing where they were headed, first. He draped his arms around Sausage’s neck as the seraph flapped his wings to take off. He didn’t bother to even just circle the pit one last time, only flew off in a vaguely eastern direction. He held Scott tightly against him.

Myth stared after them but didn’t pursue. “Gone, just like that?” He spat out the words. “Where do they even think they’re going? Would they actually go through the limbo dimension again?” He then looked directly up and raised the point of his sword to threaten an invisible adversary. “And to what end was this all really for?! You can’t just let me lie in the dark in peace?! You know there is no hope left here! Or was this meant as a wake up call for them? Why would they need the reminder? They’ve got their happy ever after! They didn’t have the misery of a hundred lifetimes! They—”

Myth stopped. Only ten. Their doubles only had to go through ten lives.

…Had Scott been right?

~*~

“What are you looking for?” Scott asked softly when he noticed Sausage had begun scanning along the horizon.

“Anything familiar,” Sausage murmured, his tone bleak.

Scott chanced a look at the ground. There were a few scattered structures, but everything appeared to be closed up against the night. Zombies wandered here and there, but the two of them were high enough that they didn’t draw the attention of any regular monsters which might have been out.

When Sausage banked to start following a river, Scott realized what he might be looking for. He gently hugged the seraph’s neck in silent solidarity. Then he started keeping an eye out, as well.

However, they both remembered what Myth had said way back in the labyrinth about things being destroyed in this world.

“There.” Scott pointed to an overgrown mountaintop with a crumbling stone staircase cut into the side that led up from the river. The dock was nonexistent. He patted Sausage’s shoulder then shifted into his starlight form to take flight on his own, arcing down out of the seraph’s arms to land on the ground while Sausage made a loop around the area to have a more thorough look.

There were a lot fewer buildings than in their version of Heaven’s Reach, and certainly no scenic gardens or ponds. The church seemed to have been reduced to a crumbling foundation, whereas the rest had only fallen into disrepair. Sausage landed in the rampant tall grass beside where the door would have been.

He sighed as Scott walked over. “I thought maybe we could reach Pearl – our Pearl, I guess? – if we could find this world’s Heaven’s Reach. But I guess it got destroyed like everything else, thanks to those two.” He looked around, despair back in his voice. “I don’t even see any sunflowers growing around it. How did things go so wrong here?”

Scott debated telling him what Myth had said about fated opposites. “Maybe unlike you, he got cut off from his Pearl when he arrived here, and… forgot much faster, or gave up more easily. You shook off that first death pretty quickly, you know? From what Myth said, it seemed the… situation dragged out for too long. And then it escalated into back-and-forth revenge, where we just kind of… moved on, and… you didn’t resent the fact that I became an angel. You and I went down one path, they went down the opposite. I don’t know if that fact itself was destined to happen, but Myth seemed to think so.”

“Hmm,” Sausage agreed listlessly. He stood there for a moment, seeming to be lost in thought, then he headed for the remains of the cemetery. It was equally overgrown, but there was something odd about one of the back corners – starting with an old, dead sunflower.

He hadn’t noticed it at first since its stalk blended in with the rest of the yellowed grass, and its head was bowed with only shriveled, dull petals left clinging to it that he only now saw as he approached. Scott followed him, curious.

There were objects strewn under the lanky, dry grass. Some had begun to disintegrate, clearly made of materials not meant to be left out in the elements long term. But the ones made of metal, or fired clay…

Sausage uttered a mournful whimper as he knelt to pick up a terracotta figurine that very much resembled himself with only one pair of wings. He glanced at the headstone. The carving was weathered but the shape of a sunflower with sun rays around it were still visible. He set down the figurine. “Well… he was remembered for starting out like me. I assume this means he was kind and helpful at one point.”

Scott rested a hand on the seraph’s shoulder. “It wasn’t a pleasant route, but he sort of ended up protecting the rest of the world from a me who didn’t learn that darkness wasn’t the only path to follow.”

“And here we are, all bright and shining.” Sausage cast a glance over the items, then plucked one made of gold out of the grass. He was about to comment when they heard a sort of crystalline tinkling noise, followed by the reversed sound of shattering glass.

A pale glow fell upon them from the middle of the cemetery. Sausage gave a cry of relief and put down the gold figurine, then grabbed Scott’s hand as he stood up. Scott smiled, as well, and they both gazed through the Aether portal that had appeared, seeing the familiar sight of the royal gazebo in Pearl’s realm. Sausage stopped just short of entering it, however, and squeezed Scott’s hand to stop him from going through. “What if it isn’t ours? What if it’s a parallel version?”

His doubts were set aside as Pearl stepped into view, a tearful look of relief on her face as she held out her arms and, even though they couldn’t hear her, she was obviously saying the words, ‘My boys!’

Sausage’s heart soared and he hurried through, still holding tight to Scott.

The portal shuddered behind them, then imploded in on itself, although from their side it merely winked out of existence. They were too busy being engulfed in a goddess-sized hug to notice.

“There you two are! Where have you been? I couldn’t find you anywhere! How in the world did you end up back in the mortal realm?”

Sausage drew back from her embrace. “Wait, you didn’t send us?? Like you did with that floran project??”

Pearl looked at him with confusion. “No? I had no idea you were even gone until you didn’t answer when I tried to summon you! I was looking all over but there was no sign of either of you! What happened?”

Scott gave a somewhat pained smile. “Pearl, do you remember ever losing track of Sausage before in the other world, around the time he was a gravital? We took a little trip through a limbo dimension and met an… interesting pair of people…”

~*~

When Myth broke through the top piece of obsidian covering the cell doorway, he found Smajor scratching at the arm guard with a sharp chip of deepslate that had been part of the debris from earlier. The cursed angel eyed him warily.

Smajor merely held up the arm guard to show him what he had been doing. “I’m adding the count for you. Had to finish off that last set of tallies, huh?” He grinned.

Myth wasn’t amused. “I need to put a new door on, so get ready for number one hundred and six.”

“How about I just sit here and behave, and we not do the stabbing. Here! I’ll even do this…” Smajor gingerly set the arm guard down in the middle of the floor along with the slate chip – then he pushed the small pile of other bits of debris that he had gathered next to it. Lastly, he nudged the clock over as well to show he had nothing else at his disposal. Then he sat down on the bed with his hands pinned under his legs. “There, see? I’ll be good.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Smajor shrugged and looked off to the side with a blank expression. Myth watched him for a few seconds, then worked on removing the second one. Smajor heard him throw down the pickaxe as soon as the block was out of the way, and looked over to see him pointing his sword into the cell. He uttered an exasperated noise. “Hey, Myth? Maybe I’m TIRED OF DYING. So just put the stupid door on and we’ll go back to what we were doing before. You want to stay stuck in this dark chamber forever? Then fine, we’ll do that.”

“Actually, this is temporary, now that there’s a giant hole to the surface directly outside and some other idiots could stumble in here at any moment. But since you want to stay alive, you get a new door until I figure out where to go.”

“Oh, very good point. Wouldn’t want to start adding anyone else to your body count. Or was it only your double that you wanted to see dead? Bit of a reflection you weren’t happy to look into, hmm?”

“How about you also sit silently before I change my mind about killing you again.”

Smajor adjusted his legs while smiling, keeping his hands where they were. Who needed a physical weapon when he had delicious irony as a means of pouring salt into wounds?

~*~

Later, when she was alone, Pearl paced around the perimeter of the gazebo, her mind abuzz with thoughts of parallel versions of people. She stopped at one point to wave a hand over the reflecting pool, bringing up a sepia-tone vision of a world from the past.

She watched it for a moment, then let out a distressed sigh and began to pace around again, hands clasped tightly behind her back.

An unfamiliar voice called out from the direction of the pool. “Goddess PearlescentMoon, we need to have words with you.”

Pearl froze, then pivoted on her heel. Rising out of the pool was a bipedal figure made of jittering static. When they fully emerged, they stepped onto the floor, remaining indistinguishable, although Pearl thought she could make out the shape of a pair of closed eyes. “Well, that’s quite an entrance,” she said stiffly. “But – I’m sorry? Who are you?”

“We are one of the higher deities, responsible for matters of the spirit which are involved with all living things. That includes souls. You have something to answer for…”

Behind them, the pool returned to the image of the sepia-washed world just as a figure with a crown of red and gold stepped into view.

~ The End ~

#alsmp #alsmp fanfic #alsmpshipping #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #this AU is purely self indulgent at this point sorry #soul liminality #soul liminality 2 #actual!angel!sausage #starborne!scott #goddess!pearlescentmoon #lunar yarns #look I found some spoons!

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thedo0zyslider · 11 months

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Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter Nine: Returning The Favor - 5k words

Sausage makes an impromptu visit to the Codlands, one that leaves behind quite the messy two certain rulers

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Jimmy was rather worried as of late. He'd seen the warnings of Mythland’s King returning, and how hostile he'd acted. He’d already shown up at the Undergrove, House Blossom, and Rivendell, and each of those visits had included a threat of some kind; or a warning of what Xornorth would do to the kingdom once he’d reached full power.

Joey had also made a reappearance as well, but not even being demon possessed could make Joey get off his ass and go around threatening people. No one was truly surprised by this, as Joey was known for keeping to himself more often than not. The Lost Emperor seemed very content to simply close his borders and relish in his demon romance, a romance Jimmy doubted was going anywhere but down hill.

Joey wasn’t really the problem here, that was Sausage, who seemed to take some sick sense of joy in tormenting his fellow rulers. The other problem was…whatever the two missing rulers had been doing in their short absence. Though whatever it was definitely wouldn’t be a good thing, that was for certain.

The Codfather had increased the amount of people watching his kingdom’s border, so it was no surprise when a codfolk told him that Mythland’s King could be seen flying in. That and the near daily reports from other rulers. Jimmy told them not to stop him, that he would deal with Sausage. His citizen’s safety came before his own, always.

He heard when Sausage landed next to him, armor clinking as he did so, and the cod turned and feigned surprise. Well it was half feigned, he was not expecting the other man to have bloody red eyes instead of the striking blue they used to be. Oh and the outfit change, that was new, but it still suited the brunette, just in an evil sorta way.

"Oh," Jimmy said, struggling to keep the newfound terror out of his voice. "Hi Sausage!"

"Long time no see, huh?" Mythland’s king smirked in response, leaning on what looked to be a newly acquired sorcerer's staff.

"Yeah, it's been what? Two, three months?" The cod said, a little unsure of how long it had been since they last talked. The two didn’t exactly have frequent conversation before, and the months had been blurring together for Jimmy as of late.

“Yeah, about three months!” Sausage smiled. “I’ve been practicing with my new powers!”

The Codfather forced a normal smile, hand shifting to grip the handle of his trident. “I can kinda see that! You got a new staff!” He gestured to the item in question, taking note of how Sausage was watching him carefully, just as carefully as he was watching the brunette.

“Oooh, yeah I did!” Sausage said, a touch of his old self still underneath the darkness that had recently consumed him. It made Jimmy want to grind his teeth to dust, what the demon was doing to the people he cared about. He wished Sausage wasn’t a prime example of that.

“Maybe I could show you what this bad boy can do one day!?” Sausage smiled widely, almost unnervingly so, twirling the staff in his hands like a showman.

“No, thanks. I’ve gotten rather busy since we last spoke,” Jimmy’s decline of the offer sounded apologetic, and the lies slid off his tongue far too easily for it to be a good thing. The Codfather had a sneaking suspicion Sausage’s magic show would have a very bloody end to it, and that was something he wasn’t ready to tangle with. The other man simply made a disappointed pout at his words.

“Uh, cool voice dude,” Jimmy complimented after a stretch of stilted silence between them, gaze flying around as he tracked Sausage’s every move. The way he put his staff away with a puff of magic and how his gloved hand fell far too close to his sword for comfort. He was hoping flattery might spare him from whatever the other had in mind, if only a little. “Sounds a little…demonic, but still cool.” It wasn’t really a fake compliment, Sausage had gained a kinda cool new voice; which was probably a bad thing under these circumstances.

“Why thank you!” The Mythlander purred, leaning forward on his hilt of his sword. The smile he was currently flashing felt…more unnaturally wide than it had before.

“Uh, yeah, you’re wel-” His words were caught off with a yelp. The cod’s back hit the outer wall of his house with a painful thunk , a shadow falling over his vision. Jimmy swallowed, watching as Sausage tilted his head upward with the tip of his sword, his other hand pinning the blonde’s waist to the wall. “I could show you those powers I’ve been practicing with, how does that sound Codfather?” He smiled, his newly corrupted voice now low and threatening.

“Nah, I’m good!” Jimmy gasped, thrusting his trident forward and twisting. To both ruler’s surprises the attack actually managed to catch Sausage’s side. The shorter man stumbled back with a hiss of pain, “You’re gonna pay for that!” Sausage yelled, clutching his bleeding wound with one hand. The cut was deep, and bleeding enough for the red liquid to be flowing from Sausage’s gloved hand. Jimmy let out a yelp of pain as a burst of something--he assumed it was magic--hit his side, mirroring the wound his trident had given the Mythlander. His back hit the wall again, and had probably added a bruise to his new list of injuries.

Another stab of pain hit him, this time the familiar feeling of a sword piercing him. The weapon was pulled away from his shoulder, and the cod let out a primal growl of agony. Sausage stood over him once more, the joyous smile from earlier now replaced with a more menacing frown. He was oddly silent as well, which gave a sense of forbidding to Jimmy. Sausage was never silent.

Jimmy shut his eyes as Sausage’s sword was shoved into his leg, causing him to crumple to the floor like a wet piece of paper. He wasn’t going down without a fight however, as he began kicking upwards and falling his limbs. It seemed to work, as Sausage let out a loud swear when he tried to pin his enemy down. Something other than the sword came down on his skull when the cod tried to struggle to his feet, The Codfather cracked his eyes open again, and saw another blast of magic being readied through hazy vision. He braced himself, not putting it past the Mythlander to fatally wound him, not anymore.

“Sausage!?” Fwhip’s familiar voice broke through the fog in Jimmy’s brain, and he saw Mythland’s king turn his head towards the sound in shock.

“Oh, Hi Fwhip!” The brunette almost purred, moving away from the injured Jimmy.

“What are you doing!?” The Count growled, running to move between the cod ruler and his attacker. Jimmy didn’t know why the half dragon was here, but he couldn’t care less, not at the moment.

“Didn’t mean to injure your little boy toy so badly, sorry about that!” Sausage stepped backwards, and the Codfather could hear the sounds of an elytra and rockets being brought out. He’d stopped looking at the Mythlander and focused on Fwhip instead, who had drawn his sword hesitantly.

“My boy to--Sausage what did you do!? ” Fwhip yelled.

“He started it!” With that last call the brunette was gone, taking off with his firework rockets as quickly as he’d arrived. Fwhip stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment, before quickly dropping to Jimmy’s side.

The cod felt his head be moved into Fwhip’s lap, and he snuggled closer with only a vague worry of blooding the other’s clothes. “T-hanks for that…” He stuttered, feeling familiar clawed hands cup his face. Worry was radiating off the Count in waves, and he started to prop Jimmy upwards without a reply.

The next thing the Codfather knew the head of his namesake was being removed, and he was being slowly shifted into his bed. He watched Fwhip rummage through his bedroom through a half lidded gaze, presumably for healing items. He hoped that’s what it was, because the Codland’s healers were probably too far away, and none of them knew how to heal demonic magic. That was very understandably not a part of their training, because normally there weren't world destroying demons on the loose corrupting people.

Jimmy just barely heard Fwhip’s mutter of “ Shit ,” before unconsciousness induced by his injuries claimed him.

The past ten minutes felt like a blur to Grimlands Count. He’d been coming to the Codlands for slime, and maybe because he missed Jimmy a little, and maybe to talk about Scott. But then he had run in on Sausage attacking his partner, the first time he’d seen the Mythlander in months was him attacking Jimmy, because of course it would be. Now here he was, frantically searching Jimmy’s bedroom drawers for any sort of healing item. There had to be some in here somewhere, Jimmy was just as clumsy as the Count was accident prone.

He found the much needed items after a minute, a minute that felt too long. The cod was unconscious, had been hit by demon magic, and was bleeding in far too many places at once for it to be anything but possibly fatal. Fwhip swore when he broke a potion of healing in his haste, glass shattering across the floor. Fine then, he’d have to do with one. Why did Jimmy only have two healing potions in the first place!? His partner was as underprepared and stupid as he was clumsy it seemed.

He was at the bedside in an instant, dodging shards of newly broken glass as he propped Jimmy up with his pillows. He managed to get the life saving potion to the cod with ease, then moved to focus on his other injuries. Most had been healed by the potion, but the precious liquid didn’t have enough to fix all them completely. If Jimmy was conscious Fwhip would have him eat a golden apple, but it was too likely he’d choke in this state, so he’d have to work with this. It was fine, he’d healed himself from worse and with less supplies. The first wound he looked to was a head wound, one seemingly caused by an axe; having to regrettably remove the Codfather’s head to determine that fact. Fwhip did not want to think about how that had happened, he might actually break down if he did that.

Thankfully, the wound has ceased the worst of its bleeding, and all the Count needed to do was lightly bandage it and clean it to ward away infection. The wounds on his leg and arm; which looked to be sword wounds; required the same treatment, it was just where Sausage had struck his side that required a little more work. It was more like a burn wound, and reminded Fwhip of injuries from dragon’s breath, just far worse. It wasn’t quite a burn, more of a giant bleeding blister on Jimmy’s tanned, scaly skin. It took Fwhip a few minutes of careful disinfecting and even more careful bandaging, but the wound was patched up, but still likely to cause the Codfather a great deal of pain. Fwhip put the remains of the healing supplies away after he was done, before managing to tuck Jimmy in.

He sat on the other side of the bed quietly, holding his head in his hands. Why had Sausage been here? Why was he attacking Jimmy? And what did he mean by the Codfather started it?

Fwhip’s next thought was that he should notify the Codfolk, which he really didn’t want to do for a number of reasons. The first because, from what Jimmy had told him, the cod were still quite hostile to him; though he was fairly sure there had been some witness to the scuffle. Sausage, the idiot, had attacked Jimmy in the middle of his empire after all. The second was that he didn’t want to be blamed for or associated with the attack, which was a fair and likely assumption to go by if you were an unsuspecting cod citizen. Again, their two empires were enemies, and it was well known how close the Count and Sausage used to be. The third and biggest reason was that he really, really did not want to leave Jimmy alone right now; not after thinking he was going to literally die .

Fwhip sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t just not tell anyone, what would he do if someone came looking for the Codfather? Mind made up, he reluctantly stood with a quiet sigh, casting one last, long glance at the still unconscious Jimmy before exiting the room and his partner's house.

It didn’t take long for Fwhip to find a few worried codfolk hovering around, nor did it take long for him to get weird stares. Vaguely, Fwhip noticed he had Jimmy’s blood staining his shirt and pants and tried not to dwell on that fact for too long. Instead he beelined for the one cod citizen he knew well enough, Caleb. The young cod was standing with what looked to be two other members of the infamously annoying Cod Council, if the outfits and misplaced sense of entitlement were anything to go by.

“Count Fwhip!” An older cod said, seeing his approach. Caleb turned, and fixed him with the friendliest look he’d ever gotten from one of Jimmy’s people.

“Er, Hi, Caleb-” He began, but was quickly cut off by the third codfolk; Fwhip was already beginning to understand the Codfather's irritation with these people and it had only been five seconds . “The Codfather was attacked, correct? Where is he?” The older person at least had a sense of worry under their stern tone.

“He’s in his house unconscious, he’s already been healed the best he can be.” Fwhip responded, a bit caught off guard. He was somewhat aware of the small crowd forming around them, and the whispers that came from it. Most of them weren't very friendly whispers either.

“Healed? By you? ” The second Council member asked, and Fwhip felt himself go on the defensive.

“Yes,” He confirmed it tentatively, but to his surprise no harsh words followed his own. The Council member just simply called over another cod, who Fwhip assumed was a healer, before turning to enter Jimmy’s house. The Count was a little dumbfounded by this, and next thing he knew he was back in Jimmy’s room and there were four other people crowding the bed.

Caleb, who he’d gravitated towards unconsciously, muttered to him, “You’ve got blood on you, by the way.”

Fwhip just shrugged, still trying to mentally process the last twenty minutes of his life. “I’ll clean it later,” He muttered in response, focused on watching the crowd around the Codfather. Caleb said nothing in response, just gave him a glance before looking away again. A few minutes later the young cod was ushering the others out, seemingly able to sense that Fwhip wanted them gone and he wanted them gone now. Something in him was roaring with protectiveness, possessiveness even, and he was not okay with people crowding an unconscious Jimmy at the moment.

The Count sat down on the edge of the bed again, the shack empty once more except for the two emperors. Apparently, the healer hadn’t given Jimmy any more potions or messed with his bandages and Fwhip had to wonder why. Maybe they didn’t want to waste such valuable, life saving items on something that could heal naturally, albeit it would take a while for that to happen. That was the only explanation that made sense to him, and after the Sausage encounter Fwhip kinda needed things to keep making sense if he wanted to keep it together, because that attack was absolutely messing with his head right now.

That was a thought for later though, as Fwhip’s brain immediately went to the next task he probably needed to do. He needed to tell the other rulers what had happened, because if Sausage did he would be doing it to gloat and threaten them. And that was not a good way to break the news to Joel and Lizze, in fact it was the worst way.

He pulled out his communicating with another sigh, listening to Jimmy’s steady breathing as he sent a message far too casual for the situation. He had to retype it several times, his hands were apparently shaking. The Count hadn’t noticed that until now.

fWhip: Hey

fWhip: Jimmy just got attacked by Sausage

Pearlescentmoon: what???

Smajor1995: WHAT

GeminiTay: oh my god!?!

LDShadowLady: IS HE OKAY???

SmallishBeans: Is he hurt???

fWhip: Yeah, he's fine. Healers patched him up already

He watched more worried messages flood his screen, deciding to omit that he had been the one to tend to Jimmy’s wounds. He didn’t think the others would feel comforted by that, as Fwhip was more known for being accident prone and impulsive instead of gentle and good at healing. But the Count had done a good job, he thought so at least, since Jimmy wasn't currently bleeding to death. It wouldn't be the first time he'd patched the Codfather up either.

LDShadowLady: How badly was he hurt??

fWhip: head injury, stabbed in the arm and leg, magic wound to his side. A few healing potions and some bandaging took care of it.

Shubble: thank god

Katherineelizz: why are you at the cod empire anyways??

fWhip: it was to discuss trade deals or something

SmallishBeans: I'm gonna kill him

SmallishBeans: I'm gonna kill Sausage

Smajor1995: I didn't think Sausage would start attacking people…

GeminiTay: Was it him or the demon?

fWhip: That was definitely Sausage. He wasn’t being controlled when he did it

SmallishBeans: Fuck

Pixlriffs: That’s…worrying

Despite himself, Fwhip let out a small huff of amusement at Joel’s swear. Yeah, fuck was a good reponse for that, despite the latter supposedly not believing in the demon. Maybe this had made him.

Pearlescentmoon: can jimmy talk to us???

fWhip: nah, he passed out from his wounds pretty quickly. Thought he was gonna die for a second if im being honest

LDShadowlady: he WHAT

fWhip: he’s fine lizzie i promise

fWhip: im literally in the same room as him rn

fWhip: i can seeing him breathing

LDShadowlady: if you say so

GeminiTay: Sausage hurt him that bad!?!?

fWhip: yeah

Smajor1995: how did JIMMY provoke him that bad what the hell. I know he can be a little shit sometimes but jesus???

Before the Count could type his reply there was a shuffling sound, and he turned his head to see Jimmy starting to sit up right. He typed a hurried message before putting his communicator down on the bed and promptly ignoring it for the next few hours, no matter how many times it buzzed.

fWhip: shit gtg hes awake

He stood at the side of the bed, leaning over the cod ruler just slightly. “Fwhip?” Jimmy asked, wincing as he tried to prop himself upwards with his injured arm. The half dragon rushed to help him sit up after that, keeping a tight grip on the blonde until his back was comfortably propped up against a plethora of pillows.

“How do you feel?” He asked, gaze flicking over the bandages to make sure Jimmy hadn’t reopened his wounds.

The Codfather took a moment to find his words, but spoke as soon as he saw the worried flicking of Fwhip’s tail. “Everything hurts, but less than before,” Was what Jimmy settled on, and the Count smiled gently at the description. Well, that’s one way to put it.

“Yeah, I patched you up,” He muttered, moving so he could rest their foreheads together. “Was worried you were gonna die if I didn't do it fast enough.” Jimmy made a worried hum in response, but the Count moved away before he could be pulled closer. Before leaving the cod he pressed a kiss to the other’s forehead, steering clear of the bandaged area. “Stay here and rest okay? I’ll be right back.” He exited the bedroom again, ignoring Jimmy’s curious gaze following him until he was out of eyesight and the door was shut gently behind him.

Fwhip walked into Jimmy’s small kitchen, deciding he needed to do something with his hands. He’d decided on cooking before he’d even reached the room for that reason, and the fact that he was a fairly decent chef; though he thought the Codfather was quite a bit better. He’d cooked when either Gem or Sausage had been sick before, because they both couldn’t, so the task wasn’t a stranger to him. His siblings never shut up about it either, about how sweet he could apparently be when one of them was injured. Fwhip thought this was a way he showed affection, part of his love language maybe, but the Count never gave much thought to stuff like that.

He’d grabbed the ingredients for a vegetable soup before even realizing what it was, and later he would remember how the cod did it for him just a few weeks before. Maybe he was paying Jimmy back unconsciously by cooking for him, he thought as he set the water to boil, mildly surprised that Jimmy had so many ingredients. All that old teasing of him having nothing but slime was really stupid in hindsight. He tapped his foot as he sliced up whatever produce he’d gotten from Jimmy’s pantry. The ginger hadn’t paid attention to what he’d grabbed really, as everything was still kind of a blur to him; he’d just noted whatever it was needed to be chopped up before being put into the pot, then grabbed a knife to do so. The dish he was making felt like something he made often, with how familiar and unconscious his movements had become while preparing it,

There was a shuffling at the doorway as the soup finished, and Fwhip spun around quickly. Jimmy stood at the doorway to his kitchen, leaning on the frame for support. The Count stopped his wings from springing out in surprise behind him and running the meal he’d just made.

“Why are you out of bed?” He sighed, letting slight irritation seep into his tone. This idiot was supposed to be resting and recovering ! Not trying to reopen his wounds by walking around with an injured leg!

“I wanted to see what you were doing.” Jimmy said with no hint of apology in his voice, awkwardly shuffling forward until he stood next to Fwhip, who noted that he now had to lean on the kitchen counter to stay upright.

“Making you soup,” Fwhip said, turning back to said food. He turned off the fire and began moving it into two bowls. He hadn’t even noticed he’d made enough for two until now. “Oh, thanks..” Jimmy responded, sounding very touched by the action. The half dragon ignored how that made him swell with something fuzzy, focussing instead on getting other back to bed.

They made meaningless, stilted small talk between spoonfuls of the soup, which Jimmy had pointed out was potato soup. Ah, that was why the motions had felt so familiar to him. The Grimlands used to export the vegetable and still had plenty of it, so potato based foods were something Fwhip found himself making more often than not.

“The others were making fun of you in that group chat” Jimmy said, glancing over at Fwhip. The Count was sitting on the edge of the bed again, eating food that barely tasted like anything in his mouth with Jimmy sitting next to him. “Really?” He huffed, unsurprised, making a mental note to check his communicator later.

“Yeah,” The Codfather hummed, glancing at the abandoned device across from them. Fwhip had been wondering which one of their communicators he’d used to see that, and now he had his answers. The half dragon wasn’t very surprised that Jimmy had used his instead of his own. He wasn’t sure it had survived the earlier attack.

“Your clothes have my blood on them,” Jimmy spoke again, and Fwhip was glad that he was at least trying to fill the silence. There was a lot they needed to discuss, and he wasn’t quite ready just yet. The small talk was helping though, and maybe the blonde could tell that.

“So do yours, Mr. Snuggles His Bleeding Head Into My Lap” Fwhip snorted, taking the now empty bowl from his partner and placing it on the nightstand, along with his own of course. He’d clean those later, for now a strained smile was escaping him as Jimmy made a strained laughing sound at his remark.

“ Jimmy! ” The Count hissed out suddenly when he faced the blonde again, noting the red that was now seeping into his already bloody shirt. “You're bleeding!” He made a vague gesture towards the other’s side, tail flicking in worry behind him again.

“Oh, whoops.” The cod muttered with a glance at his wound, wincing a little. Fwhip grumbled something unintelligible as he began to grab the bandages once more. The Codfather watched silently as the ginger applied more pressure to the wounds, wrapping more bandages and gauze on top of the old ones. The only sign he was being watched was the slight hitch of the cod’s breath. Sometimes it was from pain, sometimes it was something else. Fwhip didn’t think this was the time to be admiring his beauty, but to each their own he supposed.

“You didn’t have to heal me, ya know that right?” Jimmy said softly when he was done, making grabby hands at the ginger. Resigned to this insufferable man’s needs, he shifted closer until Jimmy could hug him from behind. The Count hoped this wouldn’t open his wounds again.

“I know,” Fwhip sighed. “But I wanted to, I felt like I had too. Think of it as returning the favor, from when you healed me.” He felt his face heat up in embarrassment at his words, and god Gem was right wasn’t she? He really could be a giantaic sap when he was worried over someone, couldn't he?

They sat in silence for several minutes after that, enjoying the presence of the other, and the Count finally allowed himself to fully process everything he’d seen that afternoon. He tightened his hands into a fist, and the slight shaking of his form was quickly noticed by the person hugging him. “Do you…wanna talk about it?” Jimmy asked after a moment, nuzzling his face into the crook of Fwhip’s neck, the ginger’s loose ponytail tickling his cheek slightly.

Fwhip took a deep breath, beginning to explain as best he could. It still hurt to say his brother's name aloud. “I…none of us thought he’d actually try to kill someone,” His voice got smaller as he spoke, the last few words becoming a whisper. He wasn’t really sure how to word the next part, how scared and worried and upset he’d been for the Codfather, the pure panic he’d felt as he healed him; so he went for an imaginary sicario. A comparison of sorts, what Jimmy would feel if his sibling attacked the most important person to him.

“It’s like … .imagine if Lizzie started attacking me, or Scott or Joel and one of us almost died…” He trailed off, and Jimmy just made a hum to indicate that he was listening. Fwhip was honestly grateful for the silence; he didn’t want pity or sympathy or anything . He wanted someone to hold him and just listen. He’d heard a lot of “I’m sorry’s” after they’d lost Sausage, and how people were there for him if he needed to talk, and he was getting a little sick of it at this point.

“Don’t know if you heard it, but he called you my ‘boy toy.’” The Count added in a murmur, frowning as he remembered the Mythlander’s words.

“ He what!? ” The blonde exclamation was a mix of amusement and surprise. Clearly he hadn’t heard what Sausage was saying after all, at a certain point anyways. Maybe that was a good thing, the cod didn’t need to know the corrupted king had blamed the fight on him anyways.

“Is that…what people think you are to me? A toy? ” He wondered in a whisper, curling closer to Jimmy. Strong arms wrapped around him tighter. The Codfather wasn’t just a toy to him, he doesn’t think that had ever been true; not even when they’d hated each other. But if their friends thought that…if they thought he was just using the blonde…

“It doesn’t matter what other people think, Fwhip.” Jimmy muttered into his hair, previous amusement vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Because I know that’s not what you think of me, and that’s all that matters.”

“Thanks..” Fwhip whispered.

“Let’s rest for a while, yeah?” Was the Codfather’s response, and soon enough they were under the covers together. They’d changed clothes of course, the bloody ones now piled in a corner of the room. His inventor’s goggles had ended up…somewhere, which was a problem for morning Fwhip. Jimmy had given him an old t-shirt and an old pair of pants, things Fwhip fully intended on stealing. What could he say, they were quite comfortable clothes, and they smelled a little like Jimmy. Maybe that was part of it. The cod was now curled around him best he could, and Fwhip made sure to lay on his uninjured side; Sausage had very conveniently stabbed both Jimmy’s right arm and leg.

He rested his head under Jimmy’s, deciding to see what the others had said about him while he’d been ignoring his communicator. The Count stifled snorts of amusements and exasperation, aware of the sleeping person he was practically laying on.

GeminiTay: tell us if he’s okay please!!

Smajor1995: bye fwhip

LDShadowlady: can you send like a picture of something? Because im guessing he doesn’t wanna see us yet and i just wanna know

SmallishBeans: babe you are so overprotective

Shubble: you literally aren't any better joel

Pearlescentmoon: they’ll probably be cuddling or something if he does send a picture

GeminiTay: really pearl?

Pearlescentmoon: what? they have it BAD for each other

Smajor1995: can confirm they do. have spoken to both of them recently about stuff

Pearlescentmoon: i thought you would be in for some fwhip bullying

Katherineelizz: what kinda stuff scott? Huh?

Smajor1995: none of your business <3

LDShadowlady: OH and tell jimmy to message us when he can!! we’re worried!!

Pixlriffs: leave the poor man alone lizzie he almost DIED

Fwhip rolled his eyes fondly, adjusting his hold on the communicator to snap a picture of them. Though he doubted anyone else would be awake to see it, though they might be. He’d lost track of time a while ago. His friends were stupid, absolute idiots , but that's why they were friends wasn’t it?

fWhip: [A picture from above. Fwhip is snuggled up to Jimmy, whose chin is resting on his head as he sleeps. Fwhip has a undeniably fond look on his face]

fWhip: yeah we’re fine dw

Pearlescentmoon: told you they’d be cuddling

Pixlriffs: aw. cute

LDShadowlady: is that jimmy’s old shirt

fWhip: mine had his blood on it

SmallishBeans: okay fair

GeminiTay: he’s gonna steal it

fWhip: gem!!

GeminiTay: <3

The Count reached over to Jimmy’s wooden nightstand, placing the communicator next to the Codfather’s head when no new messages came through after his sisters. He curled in closer to Jimmy, and fell into a surprisingly peaceful sleep after the day he’d had. He left in the morning, after sharing breakfast with Jimmy and making him promise to visit the healers every day. One home he contacted Gem and Pearl, scheduling a meeting time. They had to talk about Sausage, they couldn't avoid it any longer. The Mythlander and his demon overlord needed to be dealt with, before he actually became a murderer and they lost a friend forever.

He’d convince Gem to speak with Scott, because he knew damn well the elf probably hadn’t . He doubted his sister would need too much convincing, but he’d do it anyway. Those two were their best bet at figuring out how to stop the demon. No one knew Xornoth better than his brother, and no one knew magic better than Gem.

If you could corrupt something, you could uncorrupt it or seal it away, the demon wasn’t any exception, no matter how many people they took over or tried to kill.

#ron.fic #ron.writing #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #empiresblr #fwhip #fwhimmy #empires fwhip #count fwhip #the codfather #empires jimmy #empiresshipping #explosions acorss lifetimes

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dearlymrme · 1 year

Text

Gotta Catch Them... (Secondo)

Summary: The headcanons nobody asked for that I'm gonna do anyway. What are the Papa's Pokémon?

I threw in this little bit. Every Papa has what can be called their 'mascot' Pokémon. The one present in all the interviews and magazine covers, and making stage appearances. Their starters are not necessarily their mascots, simply which on their team best represents them.

Also, every Papa has become a Papa in more way than one. In an effort to better prepare them for progeny, they are given an egg that hatches into a pre-evolved form. Can't let his Prime Mover do all the work. It's also to instill this idea of paternity as more than just status to the members of the church.

What happened to Papa's Pokémon after their death? The rumors are they were donated to the Clergy or simply just released. They could be sitting on a shelf in the crypt with their respective Papa's bodies. I can tell you one thing. They all put up a fight.

Secondo was an actual trainer in his youth and battled often. He keeps his Houndoom out as a companion. Catch him scratching the beast behind his horns once in a while, and much like Secondo, this tough look bastard melts into a big puppy. Both Sneazler and Salazzel like to stay out of their Pokeballs, but to avoid a fight, only one is allowed out at a time.

Starter. Secondo found this scrappy dog as a lad and decided as soon as he saw his bared teeth and rough personality that he was going to be his best friend. Secondo had to earn its loyalty, but after a lot of stubbornness and sausages snuck out from breakfast, he managed to befriend the beast. It was a long process, however, that often ended with Secondo getting lit on fire or bit. Secondo found him one day licking serious wounds from a fight. What kind of fight? Obviously, one it nearly didn't escape from. He nursed it back to health, and that finally won over the pooch. Catch this hound now evolved, sitting at his feet as an unmoving protector. On the day of Secondo's murder, scorch marks can be found against the walls outside of Secondo's door.

Secondo thought the Salandit male at first, and it quickly corrected him with a tail slap to the face. She seemed perfectly timed her evolution with his rise to fame as well. She is a sassy queen and aptly named. She gets very jealous when he hits on women. Loves to rub her scent on him, as though that's going to stop the girls from finding him attractive. Instead, it just made him sick the first few times, and now he's built up a tolerance to the poison. Now all it does is make him smell nice...and make women all the more attracted.

Another sassy queen. She and Salazzle butt heads often. As a Sneasle, she liked to tear upholstery. After evolving, that habit grew extreme, and she was since banished to the forest behind the Abbey. She has a favorite tree that is steadily working its way into a toothpick. She would often get in fights with Primo's Trevenant, but they seem to have come to an understanding that she is allowed her one tree if she breaks any of the Murkrow nests she spots. It's a losing battle, though.

Toxel was a very difficult 'child' and often threw tantrums for attention, intentionally making it hard for Secondo because of how much he fumbled into the role of 'father'. He did his best, well enough as Toxel evolved and the Pokémon has since mellowed out. It often chills near the fountain, strumming its belly and drawing a crowd of those siblings Pokémon that roam.

A sparring buddy for when Secondo needs to let out pent up aggression and wants to train. Alongside Hitmonchan, he keeps Secondo in shape.

Alongside Hitmonlee, he keeps Secondo fit and on his toes in a fight. Both Hitmonlee and Hitmonchan are constantly disciplined for destroying the sandbags. They can't help it, though. When being held, Secondo likes to enter them into tournaments.

#secondo #papa emeritus #papa emeritus ii #ghost the band #the band ghost #ghost band #pokemon #pokemon crossover #my personal headcanons #dee writes #gotta catch them

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pacificwaternymph · 1 year

Note

Sometimes I get frustrated because multiple blogs have the same au concept but different, which is totally fine that’s not what my problem is, the problem is that I can never remember which blog is connected to which AU or what happened in which AU cause they all kinda… mash together… I’m trying to remember this other super AU/power AU(I don’t remember the specific specifics) where Xornoth and Scott both have powers and they have absent rich parents and Scott and Jimmy share one class(don’t remember which specifically) and also Xornoth is obsessed with gems/crystals/rocks. Also Joey is, like, some kind of feline type hybrid? Umm. I think Xornoth and Scott both have wings… Their aliases were the Fire Prince and the Ice Prince. Uh. Geez I’m trying to remember who made this AU and it’s so frustrating. I think they were heroes or vigilantes? Also, powers developed from trauma so… yeah… I’m trying so hard to remember who has this AU and it’s so frustrating ;-;

Also my memory sucks and I can’t remember if it was your Fae AU or a twisted wonderland headcanon but dancing with the fae. Not a wise move. Maybe they can control who they enchant with their dancing? I know so much about fae.

Speaking about knowing a lot about Fae, what are the use of names or true names in this AU?

Also, if one of the humans or non fae who can touch salt are annoyed with one of their fae friends/significant others, imagine, just, them pouring a whole bunch of salt in front of them and then walking away. For those who don’t know, no matter how strong they are, they have to get down and count each grain one by one…

- Starlight Anon

I don't know much about this au so I can't be sure, but I think that au might be @scribbling-dragon 's vigilante AU? Idk it sounds kind of familiar, but I can't be sure.

Can anyone else help us out?

I would say that yes, the fae can control who they enchant when they dance.

Also I don't mention this or use them since it would just make things. a lot more complicated and difficult to understand, but most of the characters do use nicknames to avoid handing their free will over to one another constantly.

Some only use shortened versions of their names.

Gem is short for Gemini

Katherine uses Kat or Kathy

Lizzie is short for Elizabeth, but her nickname is less about keeping her name safe and more just a force of habit.

BigB uses "B" most of the time, Ren is short for something (i just don't know what)

Xornoth just shortens his name to Xor.

And so on. Then you have people who've picked out codenames. This mostly consists of the humans of the group.

Oli is known simply as the Bard.

Jimmy is known as Canary (as depressing as it is, he argues that it's accurate)

Sausage is his nickname, and I have no idea what his real name is.

False is, again, a nickname, but it's a nickname that she prefers, and she almost considers her "real" name as something of a deadname, because her parents gave it to her. The full nickname she picked was Falsesymmetry, but when that started to get close to her TRUE Name, it was shortened to False.

Scott is Major

Shelby is Shrub.

Cleo doesn't shorten her name or use a codename. She's undead, which means names stopped having power over her since, in all technicality, she doesn't have one anymore.

You get the idea. Feel free to send me asks about what a specific character's nickname or codename is because I am not about to do every single one here.

Also I think that'd be really, really funny. Jimmy does this with Scott sometimes when he's being a bit too overbearing. Cleo most certainly pulls this, she keeps a bag of salt in her dress pockets for that exact purpose. Lizzie is mostly immune to fae weaknesses at this point, but not salt.

#fae au #superhero au

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convexicalcrow · 2 years

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rift rambles

so clearly something is going down today, which if I had planned this properly, wouldn't mean I was writing this so close to a flood of hc and empires eps dropping lmao but here we are.

i had planned a longer exposition about everything that's known and what's canon and how things might play out but idk I feel that would take too long and I have not enough time to do everything I need to do today so. I will ramble about this instead and we'll see what happens.

Also I am the kind of person who works quite closely from canon, so there's no super wild speculation here. Just extrapolation from what we know and what we've been told, and where that might lead.

So as someone who watches everyone on hermitcraft and everyone on empires I've been subjected to ALL THE RIFT LORE things going on. I will also be subjected to SO MANY VIDEOS in my sub box when all the rift stuff drops lmao pray for me. XD But at least it's given me a complete picture of everything that's been going on.

Things that interest me about Grumbot and the portal stuff:

if things can go INTO the portal from the Hermitcraft side and not be scrambled, but this doesn't work coming back from the other side/end of the portal (I am not assuming it will always lead to Empires, Grumbot suggests it can link to any world with a Grumbot), what does this mean about how the Hermits may get back without scrambling themselves.

If Empires wasn't originally in Grumbot Prime's database bc there wasn't a Grumbot, this necessarily suggests that the world he came from had a network of worlds hooked up by Grumbots that would allow travel between them.

If Empires does not have a Grumbot, is that why messages going through to Hermitcraft get scrambled? No Grumbot to keep the bits and pieces in order before being sent?

Grumbot Prime clearly controls the rift and can change the world that the portal links to. It might be that he opened the rift to Hermitcraft originally so he could come through to this universe for some as yet unspecifed reason. Perhaps seeking out Grian specifically? If so, why? Establishing a Grumbot on Hermitcraft to allow travel between this server and the world he came from? Again, if so why? Also what led Grumbot Prime to have these kinds of powers and abilities? He was simply programmed to make Mumbo mayor, and seems to have done that, but there's a unspoken creepiness about him and the world he came from. Like that world went wrong somehow, or is darker, or resulted in something very bad happening either with the Mayorship or with Grumbot himself that made him turn on his dads.

There is established multiverse lore on both Hermitcraft and Empires via Ren's lore mostly for this season, but also previous seasons have elaborated on this too, and Mythical Sausage does an awful lot with multiverses as well and has done in both his Empires series and Afterlife. Oli's entire Empires s2 lore is all about coming from Afterlife to Empires and not knowing he's on Empires until he finds other people. Grian bringing in a Grumbot from another universe adds to this. So it's clearly a big theme that's being tied together, not necesarily by everyone, but it's percolating. Which is why, to me anyway, linking Empires and Hermitcraft like this can lore-wise make sense at this time. There are other connections between the two servers ofc, and they seem to be pretty friendly with each other as well as sharing members in Gem and False (and Pearl last season).

Incidentally, Pearl and Gem were my gateway to Hermitcraft. I started watching them on Empires and so when they started on Hermitcraft a month later, I thought I'd give it a watch, and here I am, rambling about multiverse lore on tumblr lol.

Also all the teaser tweets over the past day or so have been, quite frankly, infuriating. XD

The question we won't know until the vids drop is the purpose of linking them together, and what that's going to serve to do, lore-wise, and also for them as two servers. Obvs ppl will include as much or as little rift lore into their seasons as they wish, but it's hard to ignore for big server-wide events like this.

I had a brief thought that maybe this was a Hallowe'en collab, bc of the timing ofc, but I don't know if that's just coincidental. It may be. I would be an awesome thing to do for Hallowe'en, to have Hermits stuck in another server and have to make their way back home somehow. Maybe they have to build a Grumbot to get home, so then they won't get scrambled. That's lore-consistent with what's in Grian's vid, so that may work. The question then is what having a Grumbot on Empires might do, and what lore that brings into their server.

Obviously the two Gems and two Falses (and potentially two Pearls, though I suspect there'll only be one) are going to be interesting, to see what happens with that. I am pretty sure False went through, but Gem definitely hesitated. And Gem heard herself through the portal and I am assuming she is involved in this somehow, but she might be going in late and perhaps doing her own thing.

Scar put some sounds at the end of his last ep, some speculated they sounded like cogs or machinery and maybe he ends up in Cogsmeade. Sausage also included the sound of what seemed like around 13 people coming through the portal at the end of his last ep, and his tweets have very heavily suggested Hermits coming to Empires, and perhaps not the other way around (yet???), and that was before Grian's last ep dropped which showed the Hermits going through first.

Which makes me think even more about what the story is here and why it involves literally going to another server with a big group of people. I'm used to Sausage doing multiverse stuff on his own that doesn't really impact other ppl. So to have a huge group involved is definitely a step up and I'm excited to see what happens next.

I may add other thoughts to this later maybe. I have so much to do to day so I may leave this here for now and go back to waiting for all the eps to drop. It'll be like 10pm my time so good luck to me getting through them all and getting to bed at a reasonable hour lmao. XD

Anyway, if anyone has further thoughts, plz share. <3

#hermitcraft #empires smp #the rift #what is even happening #multiverse theories #grumbot #a long rambly post bc i am procrastinating

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maple-the-awesome · 2 years

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We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 9

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 2,559

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER NINE: MEMORY REPAIR

In a cruel form of irony, you've managed to retain more memories of the past than Bucky has despite him being the only one currently living the same life. Unlike him, you're able to easily recall the forties as if the war ended just yesterday, even the smallest details of your far off past dripping into the present. From day one, you had found yourself a little too comfortable in the given situation, never once shying away from the man who could quite easily kill you in a blink of an eye because how could you possibly fear the same man who once made you feel so safe?

Of course, this isn’t a mutual feeling. Regardless of your relaxation in his presence, Bucky has always been understandably hesitant in yours, confused as to why a complete stranger would be so kind and trusting toward someone they owe nothing to. With this being so, it should be no surprise the amount of distance he originally put between the two of you both physically and emotionally; a distance that took quite some time to get past, but fortunately for you, Bucky started out as desperate as he was wary. Like a lost puppy, he had little choice in accepting your help.

Since his motel room was in clear violation to various health standards, you were quick to insist he stay at the hotel with you, even offering to purchase a separate room if it made him more comfortable, however he turned that latter proposal down much to your secret relief. That night, you made him take the bed despite knowing full well he wouldn't sleep. Instead, he spent the latest hours of the night staring towards the blank wall ahead as if it held all the answers to the universe. You, meanwhile, didn't get much sleep yourself, lying on the couch where you could sneak glances at him here and there just to remind yourself that everything has been real; your beloved Sergeant has finally come home to you and you'll be damned if you let him go again.

That next morning you made sure to order a big breakfast consisting of a little of everything room service had to offer: eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, sausage, fruit, hash browns and more. Putting on a smile, you gave a joke about indulging before inviting Bucky to join. Of course, he remained cautious of the spread, merely staring at you without the slightest lift to his expression even when you teasingly promised nothing had been poisoned. Nevertheless, his mouth watered at the delicious smell and he was eventually no longer able to deny his own hunger.

It had been bittersweet for you to watch him scarf everything down as if it would be his last meal, clearly starving since going on the run (and that's assuming HYDRA fed him enough to even begin with). You said nothing, deciding you should simply be happy he's getting a decent meal than to comment on the matter.

After breakfast and as you promised, you took Bucky to the Smithsonian for what would begin a pattern of regular visits. Over the course of a month, you had both spent quite a bit of time wandering the Captain America exhibit and watching the countless documentaries there. He always took his time dwelling on it all, his eyes shining with focus and sometimes a hint of tears, although you're sure you weren't supposed to notice the former.

If not at the Smithsonian, then the two of you sometimes stopped at the library for some research or stayed for a day-in at the hotel where you could teach Bucky the basics of the internet; a skill he's surprisingly mastered in contrast to Steve who would always complain about how 'complicated' the modern era is.

Speaking of Steve, you've only spoken to him once since your departure that day. It was a quick call, only enough to confirm what Natasha had told him about you attending a last minute personal mission out of country which isn’t entirely a lie. You're a spy of sorts on what you'd call a personal mission no one planned for. The only difference is you weren't out of country then. No, you were probably only about eight blocks away from Steve's apartment which was why you never took Bucky to too many places because how awkward would it have been to run into Steve on a walk through downtown, forced to explain your presence with his former best friend?

You plan to tell Steve eventually, after all it’s already been killing you to have gone so long without telling him. He deserves to know Bucky's safe, but the fact of the matter is, if Steve knows you're with Bucky, he'll push you to give your location, desperate to find you both and while it might sound good to reunite the two on a paper, now isn't the time; not until Bucky feels ready.

Concerning Bucky's progress, he's been doing excellent. At first, you had been reluctant to get your hopes up, wondering just how far gone his memory truly was and whether he'd even tell you if anything came back to mind. While you worked hard to come across as trustworthy, there was still a clear distrust hidden behind the silence during walks or the way his eyes shifted your way whenever you first entered the room. With such worries in mind, you had been beyond thrilled when he began sharing his inner thoughts more.

Sometimes it's by a casual comment given in passing like a certain meal he remembers liking back in the forties or his mother's name. Other times, although admittedly more rare, he'll reflect in much more depth over a full day he recalls such as his trip to Coney Island with Steve.

Whatever it may be, it never fails to warm your heart seeing that gentle glimmer in his eyes, one separated from all that pain HYDRA caused him. For those moments, no matter how short, Bucky's a normal man looking back at the good times in his life and the more you see that, the more hopeful you become for your future, a feeling that is so difficult to come by for someone struggling to tie two lifetimes into one.

Unfortunately, not all of your plans can go without a hitch; a bitter realization you had to swallow when noticing the strange men who seemed to wander the hotel lobby without any need. You're still not certain who they were, but you refused to take a chance. Those lingering eyes that would follow your every movement were enough to run you directly back to your room, informing Bucky that it was time to move locations.

Fake passports and a long ass plane ride later, the two of you arrived in Europe to begin a new life in France which slowly transitioned to ones in Italy, Austria, Germany, then Romania; a twisted path stretched over several months which you pray threw anyone off your tacks.

A beaten down apartment in Bucharest, Romania is your new home. It's the first apartment you've both stayed in, deciding to give hotels a rest for now. Here, you're able to add a personal touch, having filled with space will some belongings purchased at local thrift and antique stores. Bucky liked that part, filling your basket with old radios and kitchen gadgets he actually recognizes. Although he shyly asked if you'd like things more modern, you were quick to wave your hand in dismal, happy to have a little more forties in your life.

At this point, Bucky and you have grown far closer than you had been in the beginning of this journey (at least if speaking about mutual terms). He has officially reached the point of starting conversations himself, even volunteering to go with you on walks to the market and remaining in close proximity throughout. It seems he's dropped most of that former distrust he used to hold in your way, allowing you to finally take part in his life as a friend, not a stranger.

Life itself has returned to a foreign normal you nearly forgot could exist. Homemade breakfast not from room service, walks around the park, movie nights on Friday, dinner cooked together side-by-side...Maybe it's this lifestyle that has convinced the nice old lady downstairs that you and your roommate are an actual couple. If only she could be correct.

Tonight you've won a rock-paper-scissors fight against Bucky for the right to choose what's made for dinner. Per your victory, you've also shooed him out of the kitchen completely into the living room which is only three feet away.

Having the radio cranked up, you hum along to Vera Lynn while swaying to the beat, a bowl and spoon in your hands as you multitask between dancing and finishing dinner. With your back turned, you don't care to notice Bucky's stare from the couch, his eyes following your every move with careful consideration.

"You know, this is my favorite song. Such an underrated masterpiece in my generation," you comment, glancing over your shoulder with a smile that falters when finally catching the way Bucky's gaze has shifted from a playful glimmer to a now softened daze as if no one is home within his head.

Opening your mouth, you prepare to comment on it only for your words to dry up in your throat when he mumbles almost too quietly for you to hear,"...Hollie's, too..."

"H-Huh...?" You don't mean to look so flabbergasted, your mouth hung open with a stupid nervous smile that can't seem to decide it's place. You blink once then twice, afraid to respond because of course he couldn't have said anything else to take you by this much surprise.

Throughout the last year, Bucky has never mentioned Hollie once. He's never even hinted towards her which has led you to assume he hasn't remembered her yet. Believing that so, you used that as an excuse never to mention her yourself, fearing that you couldn't be trusted with the topic, after all, you could barely talk to Steve or Tony about her while keeping a straight face and telling Natasha, someone who never even knew Hollie, was a nightmare, so how could you mention her to Bucky? How could you bear to look him in the eyes and talk about her as if the words aren't just an echo of your own past?

You've been pretty wise to avoid Hollie's name because right now you’re standing like a deer in headlights, body frozen as your mind hurries to find words; ones that are hopefully spoken clearly and not at all in a panic threatening to break your carefully constructed act.

"She, uh...She was your fiancée, yeah?"

"...Yeah..." He echoes, and you refuse to look his way to catch his expression. Instead, you turn back to the counter, setting the bowl down with a little too much force. The 'clink' of the ceramic sounds like a bomb against the apartment's walls, but you ignore it in favor of rushing to turn down the radio.

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, you stand straighter with eyes that search the countertop for your next step. This is a recipe you know by heart yet all that knowledge has suddenly escaped you, leaving you in a dazed whirlwind. Only a few seconds pass before you force yourself to ask curiosity," do you remember much about her?"

Bucky doesn't answer all too quickly and a deep breath can be heard on his own part before he does," I...remember the little things about her…I remember her personality and sense of humor, how stubborn and smart she could be which I think was what made a lot of guys intimidated by her, but I liked it...I liked that she never backed down from a challenge; she knew her own worth and the worth of others.

"...I remember how much she hated her full name too. I didn't even know it for a while. I just thought it was Hollie. She about strangled Howard for telling me it. 'said she'd divorce me before I could even get a chance to marry her if I included it in my vows," he gives a hollow chuckle at his own comment and you dare to steal a glance at him finally. His head is hung low and back turned to the kitchen. While you can still see the way he leans forward with hands clenched together beyond his legs, you can't see his expression itself.

"And I-" You almost turn back to the counter, however you freeze in alarm when hearing a sudden choked sob come from him, one that immediately whips your head around with worry," I'm the one who killed her…"

Bucky's hands fly up to his head, digging through his hair into his scalp as he attempts to silence his own cries yet it's unless. His sobs fill the apartment paired with his words which are a jumbled mess and all you can do is stand there, half turned with a hand clenching the countertop and a shattered expression among your face to match the current condition of your heart.

You had forgotten about that part. When you first found out about how you died, you blamed the Winter Soldier and HYDRA. Maybe there were a few times where you connected the dots between the Winter Soldier being Bucky, but never once did you dwell on it for long. He did nothing wrong. You’ve always known that, however, the problem you’ve failed to consider is whether he knows that. You don’t have to forgive him because you don’t see anything in need of forgiving yet it’s clear now that he doesn’t feel the same way; to Bucky, the actions of the Winter Soldier are his own which are entirely unforgivable.

Every step you take feels like a path through a minefield, the cold floorboards creaking under each slow step taken. Without any consideration towards your own actions nor any consequence that may follow them, you lean over the back of the couch to wrap your arms around Bucky's shaky form. He doesn't even tense up as you had expected, instead allowing you to hold him in a close embrace which doubles as a fruitless distraction for your own tears that soon begin to fall anyways.

"You didn't kill her, HYDRA did-"

"-I pulled the trigger-"

"-You were under their control. They made you do it against your will. You’d never hurt her and I understand that. I..." biting your lip, you curse how broken your voice sounds after you suck in a breath,"...Hollie would understand, too, and she’d never blame you. She'd only be happy that you escaped those awful people and are getting a second chance at the life you deserve. She knew how much you love her. Just know that she also loved you so so much...You were the best thing to ever happen to her, James, and she'll never forget that.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, another wave of sobs taking him over as his entire body continues to shake in your embrace. You do nothing to move away, keeping him close while resting your head against his back and crying yourself.

…It’s been difficult playing the role of (Y/n) (L/n) instead of Hollie Stark around everyone else in this new life, but around Bucky, it's going to be utter hell until he knows the truth...Whenever you find the courage to tell him, that is...

NEXT CHAPTER➡️

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#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #x reader #marvel #reader insert #captain america #winter soldier

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