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mutable-manifestation · 5 months

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Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 3

Part 1 & 2

***

The lab is empty when they get to Fenton Works, his parents busy off helping the JLD wherever it was they were working from.

The journey the rest of the way to the Far Frozen passes relatively quickly under the weight of discussing how to reverse engineer the sarcophagus of forever sleep to make Naptime Box 2: Vlad Edition.

Could they probably just beat him up with the right plan and aid? Sure. But then they risk having to play royal hot potato (Danny doesn't want it and he doubts most of the allies he has would want the extra responsibility. Assuming there are responsibilities - Danny wouldn't know since there hasn't been a king, for all intents and purposes, since well before he became a halfa so who knows what the position even means in the context of the Zone).

Plus it would be way more satisfying to shove him in a box. Vlad gets a nice long nap and Danny gets to live the rest of his half-life without worrying about his Dad getting stabbed or something if Vlad starts feeling impatient.

It would also give Danny plenty of time to find some way to buy the Packers - not because he wants them, just because it would be really funny if Vlad eventually woke up to find that the only thing he wanted other than Maddie was now also very permanently out of reach.

The city of Green Bay could fold eventually, after all. But Danny? Danny would never yield, just to spite him, and Vlad would know that.

He probably won't actually do it, seeing as a) expensive and b) probably complicated.

But it would be really funny.

Their discussion on the ethics of using the Fenton Stockades as the base for the Box cut off as they land.

Without the distraction of their chat the adrenaline of panic comes rushing back, and he transforms as he steps out of the Speeder, nyooming to hover in front of Frostbite so quickly that the entire welcoming party - Frostbite somehow manages to have one arranged every time he drops by, and Danny is usually willing to at least try and indulge them since it seems to make them happy - jolts in surprise.

"Greetings!" Frostbite smiles wide, arms open in a grand welcoming, the only hint of lingering surprise the trails of slightly puffed up fur up his arms and the sides of his neck that has already mostly smoothed itself back out. "The Far Frozen welcomes the Great One and friends-"

"Hey Frostbite sorry for being abrupt but I'm kind of freaking out and you seemed like the best person - uh, ghost to go to because you always seem to know lots of things and I kind of need to know what's going on as soon as possible just in case it's a worst case scenario because the Justice League came to talk to my parents about some papers and I probably haven't mentioned them to you before because they're awful and I thought my parents made them but surprise I was wrong! Which is good! Except the League was mostly worried about them maybe causing the new ghost king to war with the human realm because apparently there's a supernatural branch of the Justice League and they think there's a new Ghost KingTM as in the Ghost King after Pariah Dark and I'm kind of freaking out because if there is a new ghost king there's actually a chance it's Vlad and oh ancients please tell me it's not Vlad or that the League heard wrong please."

Sam and Tucker had caught up by then, coming to stand on either side of him as Frostbite blinked.

"You are...asking me the identity of the current High King?" He asks, face scrunched in a bewildered expression.

"Oh my gosh Batman was right!?" He floats a bit higher at the news. "Please just tell me it's not Vlad! Uh, Plasmius."

"Plasmius?" Frostbite asks, eyebrows crawling higher. "Certainly not! What in the realms - do you truly not know?"

"Oh thank goodness," Danny sighs, sinking back to his usual level. "Not Vlad, okay, one less disastrous possibility. And whoever it is probably already knows they're the king and nothing bad has happened yet so it's probably fine, right?"

He looks back to meet Frostbite's eyes.

"Wait, nothing bad has happened yet, right? Like, is everything okay? I know Pariah caused you guys a lot of grief before; the new guy 's not going around causing trouble for you and you just haven't told me because you're worried about being a bother, right?" He frets, eyes flicking about, searching for fresh injuries on the various members of the welcoming party.

"...No, Great One," Frostbite answers, blinking away the surprised expression to be replaced by something soft. "Though I, and all the Far Frozen, are honored by your concern. While Pariah Dark is no longer the High King of the Infinite Realms, I can assure you, with utmost certainty, that you have nothing to fear from his successor. But I believe we have much more to discuss. Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk - and get your human friends out of the cold."

***

It didn't take them long to reach a sitting room, and soon enough they were all settled into the enormous, fuzzy chairs in one of the warmer rooms available, Danny and Frostbite each with a cup of shaved ice tea while Sam and Tucker were offered beverages warm enough to steam in deference to their need for warmth.

Once everyone had taken a sip - or bite - Danny launched back into his questioning.

"So did Dark have a kid hidden away somewhere or did some kind of council finally decide on his replacement? Actually can ghosts even have - wait right Box Lunch, forgot about that on purpose but never mind. Or is there some fourth option that isn't those or trial by combat that we didn't think of?"

"Before I answer that, Great One, may I ask why you have already discounted trial by combat?" He returns curiously.

"Because if it was trial by combat it would be Vlad - er, Plasmius - and you already said it isn't him."

"Or it could be you," Tucker ribs, waggling his fingers at him.

"We already talked about why it couldn't be me, Tuck," Danny huffs, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his... smoothie?

"Oh? And why do you think it would be Plasmius?" Frostbite asks.

"Because! I may have fought Pariah Dark, and sure I put him back in the sarcophagus, but I was running on fumes by that point, and he was still slamming around in there! Vlad, as much as I hate to admit it, is the one that turned the key and made sure he stayed locked away. It took almost everything I had to keep him pinned long enough. If...if he'd been even a few seconds later I probably would've died the rest of the way before he even had the time to break out a second time."

"But had you not put him there, no key would have mattered," Frostbite begins quietly. "Plasmius was no match for Pariah Dark; he was defeated in an instant the first time they clashed."

"Well, yeah, but so was I," he protests, not liking the direction the conversation is beginning to take.

"And yet, you alone went to face him a second time. You alone stood against the King of All Ghosts while your armies clashed."

"Our-!? I didn't have- you mean the ghosts that came to help me???" Danny sputtered, incredulous. "They weren't an army they were just-"

He pauses, searching for words that would not come.

"They were just a large group of ghosts who sided with you, who aided you in combat and kept the multitudes distracted while you went to face their leader alone. However you thought of them at the time, whatever they were to you up till then or are to you now, after, in that moment they were your army."

"Danny's totally the ghost king, isn't he?" Sam drawls after the brief silence that follows.

"Indeed," Frostbite answers her, but he looks Danny in the eyes as he does so. "You are the savior of the Ghost Zone, Pariah's Bane. And you are the High King of the Infinite Realms."

"I cheated!" Danny blurts out, shooting up to float above his chair.

"Cheated?" Frostbite's lips twitch as he fights down a smile.

"I had the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton! That's totally cheating! Don't combat trials have to be honorable or something?!" He begs.

Frostbite chuckles.

"I apologize, Great One, but I am afraid there is no such thing as an honorable war," he says, expression briefly turning solemn. "And even if it were, just as you had your "Ecto-Skeleton," did not Pariah have his ring and crown?

You issued a challenge and he answered, your armies clashed while the two of you stood against each other and each other alone; you alone put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, and you alone held it shut long enough for Plasmius to turn the key.”

Danny drifts back down to his seat as Frostbite speaks, then continues slouching further with every word.

“I am given to understand that Plasmius likes to think of others as pawns on his own personal chessboard,” he says, “But at the time he was but another ghost, come to fight Pariah's army on your behalf - as a member of your army. A pawn, to paraphrase his own words, that you used to topple a king - not through any intentional manipulation, but through the sheer magnetic charisma of your willingness to stand against monsters like Pariah Dark and of your ability to do so. The confidence to stand alongside you that such strength inspires.

He would not have approached if he did not believe you could win - would not risk endangering himself so. At best, you could consider him a referee, calling the match to a close once it was decisively in your favor.

Plasmius may think of existence as a game with himself as the only player, and he may have been acting in his own self-interest overall, but by every measure, in this instance, he was undeniably your piece.

The Zone itself acknowledges your right to rule by the way the crown of fire sits where you left it, unmoving on the floor of Pariah's keep until the day you finally choose to wear it, no matter how many hands may try to move it."

Frostbite's words are slow and measured, but as undeniable as the creeping of a glacier. And by the time they cease, Danny has sunk so far as to end up an undignified heap on the floor before his chair.

The trio remains silent as they absorb his words.

Minutes pass before Danny finally speaks.

"If the crown can't be taken, then how did I get it from Pariah?" He questions, a final hope that Frostbite may be mistaken.

"It will only remain unmoved until you first put it on. After that, it will be up to you whether it stays safe on your head."

Danny groans his despair, final bit of hope shattered.

"I must apologize again, Great One," he says solemnly. "Had I known you were unaware of your station, I would have informed you sooner."

He frowns heavily, looking into the distance thoughtfully.

"The Observants should have informed you long before now."

"Well, that explains it. The Observants hate Danny's guts," Tucker says.

"To neglect their duties for such a reason...," He trails off, his glower highlighting the inhuman nature of his visage.

The trio fidget.

Danny coughs after a few seconds of tense silence.

“Uh, speaking of duties,” he begins, relaxing as Frostbite’s expression smooths back into something kind and polite as he listens, “What exactly does the Ghost King even do? Like. Pariah was locked away for… a long time? I guess. So does the Zone even need a King? Can’t I just, like, resign?”

“I suppose it might seem that way from a younger ghost’s perspective - Pariah has been locked away for millenia, after all, and the Zone is still in one piece.”

Frostbite pauses, leaning back in his seat and taking another bite of his drink.

“However. What you must understand, Great One, is that the problems caused by the absence of a king in the Infinite Realms are not the whirlwind that such a thing would be in the living realm - social order is affected, but the speed of bureaucracy is slower by orders of magnitude in the Realms, and there is not the same level of inter-reliance that the living tend to require - but rather, they are winds and waters sliding against a rock, chipping away at it bit by bit until it is either worn smooth… or the whole structure collapses under its own weight.”

“How does not having a king cause dimensional collapse!?” Tucker shrieks, clutching his cup like a lifeline.

“How long do we have before it collapses?” Sam asks urgently not a second later.

“Oh shit, how long do we have before it collapses???” he echoes, hunching over his cup enough that the steam adds a layer of fog to his glasses.

Danny sits bolt upright, whipping wide eyes away from his friends to join them in staring at Frostbite.

“Total collapse would take millenia more to truly begin,” he placates before taking a more grave expression. “This does not mean that there will not be issues before that point, however; the symptoms of the High King’s absence have begun to show this past millennium. But rest assured, there is time enough to heal the wounds that have been wrought. The only permanent damage would be the collapse itself, and that, as I said, is millenia away.”

“Is… is that why you never mentioned it to me before?” Danny asks, dropping back to the ground in relief. “Because it’s not urgent and you figured I’d just…get to it eventually? Actually, why did you think I knew if you knew that the crown was still in Pariah’s Keep?”

“It is the duty of the Observants to observe, but also, as you have experienced, to oversee - the timeline, trials, the general functioning of the zone. Without a king to report to, much of their ability to act is crippled, of course - their ability to interfere directly with the timeline has always been severely restricted, their options for sentencing are severely reduced, and there are some things the Realms require that only the High King can provide - but one duty remains unaffected: overseeing the ascension of new kings.

Coronations have taken many forms in the past, from a quick swap in the battlefield to a formal ceremony to a celebration that lasted a decade. Given the dark era we are, at last, able to put behind us and the non-urgent nature of even the most severe problems that the Realms are currently affected by, I had assumed that the large delay was in preparation for that last form - the lead-up to a grand celebration.”

“Except instead it’s just them being petty,” Sam notes, sitting back up from her own relieved slouch.

Danny groans, leaving his tea to float and covering his face with his hands.

“Why couldn’t it have just been as easy as shoving Vlad in a box,” he whines.

“I mean, we still can?” Tucker offers, prompting Sam to smack him over the head before pausing consideringly.

“OW!”

“He might be right, actually,” she says, ignoring his exclamation. “Given Vortex’s trial and sentencing, there’s clearly some kind of legal system in the Zone that isn’t just Walker on a power trip. No doubt he’s broken some kind of Actual Realms Law - I’d be surprised if breaking Pariah out like he did wasn’t some form of highly illegal - so you could probably send him to actual Ghost Jail. It’s certainly where he belongs, given all the….”

She makes a vague gesture with her hand in lieu of words.

“That doesn’t resolve the problem of I Don’t Wanna Be A King!” Danny exclaims, sitting back and throwing his hands in the air.

Then he turns to Frostbite, eyes pleading.

“Can’t you be king?” he asks.

Frostbite opens his mouth to reply, but Danny steamrolls over him.

“It makes sense! You already know how to lead people! And your people love you! You already know about all the king stuff too! You’ve beaten me in spars before! We’d just have to go to the keep, I put on the crown, you beat me, and problem solved!”

Frostbite’s smile is a mix of amused and pitying.

“I have only ever beaten you in training spars, Great One, and you and I both know that is largely because they were focused on improving your skill with ice and ice alone. Even if I could defeat you in a true all-out fight as you are, I believe you underestimate the boost granted by the crown of fire.”

“I can just put it on then take it off again before we fight! And we can stick to ice!”

“I’m afraid it is not so simple,” he shakes his head. “If you do not give it your all, the crown - the Realms - will not recognize the transition. The only way to “throw the match” successfully would require your opponent to fully End you: to crush your core and snuff your spirit from the very fabric of existence. I am unwilling to do such a thing, and I sincerely hope you would not ask it of me - or, indeed, of anyone.”

Danny paled enough that he nearly matched his human form in skin tone.

“Right. Let’s… let’s not do that, actually.”

“On the bright side, you can probably weasel ruling tips out of Aquaman in exchange for not declaring war on the Living Realm!” Tucker chirps, aiming to cheer him up.

“I’m not going to threaten the Justice League!” he yelps, scandalized.

“But you probably won’t have to threaten them,” Sam chimes in. “They’re already trying to summon you, you already know their goal is to avoid a war. As long as you don’t ask for anything unreasonable, they should be inclined to give you what you want in exchange for peace.”

“Once you offer peace, they will be invested in your successful rule of their own volition as a means of perpetuating said peace,” Frostbite corrects. “If you would like to set preconditions to an accord you should make them things that will not readily be given as a result of said accord. But before we discuss further, perhaps you can fill me in on why war was a concern in the first place? I believe you mentioned something about papers?”

#dpxdc #Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU #starring: Not Jack and Maddie lmao #Frostbite #the Trio #lots of dialogue #guess how many ghosts knew about the AEA before today #surprise it was just Danny and Vlad #the GIW were too incompetent to bother anyone except Amity Parkers #guess how many know after Danny fills Frostbite in?#surprise its a lot more #Danny: *harmless no longer useful information I can tell my buddy Frostbite bc it's no big since everything is being handled now*#Frostbite: ...#yeah Danny does the casual horrifying trauma dumps to ghosts too

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a-small-safe-place · 6 months

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Homelander x SingleMom!Reader

Building a Family

Homelander was walking to the daycare inside Vought. He did not think he would ever have to come down here, but he couldn't leave Ryan alone, and Ryan expressed clear displeasure about having to sit in Ashley's office. Ryan complained that Ashley smelled weird. Homelander understood what his son meant. Ashley consistently reeked of anxiety and fear. Of course, Ryan wouldn't recognize those smells; he was only ten years old. Homelander felt a pang of jealousy at Ryan's childhood innocence. He never had that opportunity. Dr. Vogelbaum and the rest of the scientists who raised him in the lab made sure of that.

Homelander entered the daycare area, and the few children left were chattering away. A little girl wearing a Homelander shirt ran up to him, giggling and reaching for him as if she wanted to be picked up. Homelander brushed past the girl and headed to the area for older children. Ryan walked over with a shy and somewhat awkward smile on his face. Homelander asked, "Hey, buddy, are you ready to head back up?" Ryan didn't say anything; he just nodded in response. Homelander understood that Ryan was probably overstimulated from being around screaming kids all day.

As they were walking out of the daycare are Homelander noticed the little girl from earlier hugging onto your leg while you chat with a daycare attendant. He recognized you as one of the top professionals on Vought's legal team. You were attractive, for a human, but you were still a human, even though your non-disclosure agreements had practically saved the image of the Seven. The little girl spotted Homelander and ran to him, clinging to his leg. You quickly scolded the girl, saying, "Sweetie, get off of him!" Homelander flashed his classic smile and lifted the little girl off his leg, while Ryan watched, somewhat annoyed and eager to go home. Homelander reassured you, saying, "It's alright; I'm glad to see I'm still popular with the kids."

You reached out for your daughter, saying, "She just really likes you. She has one of those huggable Homelander dolls and sleeps with it every night." Ryan quietly asks his dad if they can leave. Homelander seemed amused by your young daughter being a big fan of his and replied, "Oh, really? She must be my biggest fan, then." Homelander waved dismissively at you and your daughter, saying, "You two ladies have a nice night."

That night, Homelander thought about you. Perhaps you were more attractive than he had initially thought, and he couldn't help but notice your good physique. Even if you were just a human you could still be useful. You clearly possessed some good qualities and had the aptitude to be a good mother for Ryan if the situation arose. He decided to keep an eye out for you because he couldn't afford to appear desperate and let you know he was attracted to you. After all, he was Homelander, and you should come to him. However, your presence began to consume his senses and thoughts.

He smelled your perfume and your natural scent in the halls of Vought, heard your voice above all others, and occasionally saw you through the floors, unintentionally getting an up-skirt view when he used his X-ray vision to look up through the floors in your office. But you weren't showing any interest in him, which irked him more than anything. Homelander considered himself a god, and he believed that any woman would want him if given the chance. So, why weren't you pursuing him or trying to arrange to see him again when picking up your daughter from daycare?

Fed up with the situation, he stormed into your office. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked in an aggressive tone. You responded with uncertainty, "Sorry?" not sure what he was talking about.

"Don't play fucking cute. You've been avoiding me. Are you a lesbian? Or, God forbid, celibate?" Homelander inquired with furrowed brows. You didn't know how to respond. This man had the power to do terrible things, and saying the wrong thing could be disastrous for you and your daughter. Homelander continued, "I can't believe a woman like you is passing up the chance with someone like me. We're not even in the same league. No, I won't accept it. I'm coming to your house tomorrow, and we're having a date. Find a sitter for your daughter; just make sure she's not there. Nothing ruins the mood more than a child running around. If things go well, we can introduce our children to each other at the right time and become one big happy family."

With that, he left, without asking for your address or inquiring about your relationship status. You were shaken up, but at least you were still alive.

#homelander x you #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander x single mom #singlemom!reader #mom reader #the boys x reader #the seven x reader #the seven #the boys #male x reader #male x female reader #female reader #reader x homelander #reader x character #this was yandere x reader but i didnt know if this would classify as a yandere fic

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algea · 1 month

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Ghoul School

prompt: you, Lucky, Phoebe, Trevor, and Lars go to investigate a spirit infested school, but ends badly for you.

Ummm basically enemies to lovers?? idrk tbh LOL

warnings: idk scary stuff? cussing! sexual tension! um you smoke 1 cigarette and thats it. GORE!!!!!!!

a/n: I’ve been thinking of this since I saw the movie…

*THIS IS A SUPER LONG STORY!!!*

“A school? Are you serious, Lars?” You mutter, running a hand down your face and sighing.

“I wish. What’s your grudge against a school anyway?” Lars said, cocking an eyebrow at you as he turned to look at you.

“Well I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that kids still go there. It makes me sick how they have to experience that while being in an environment where it’s supposed to be safe and welcoming.” You explain, tapping your fingers nervously on your desk. Behind you, Lars sighed,

“Well that’s why we’re going innit? So stop worrying about it so much.” You snapped your head when heard the door open. In trudged a slime covered Trevor, Lucky, and Phoebe.

“Lars, I need your help with something!” Lucky called. Lars stood and strode to her, his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than they should’ve. Trevor had a proton pack on his back, which was slightly smoking from the interior.

"Piece of shit only fizzed when we tried to turn it on, know a way to fix it?" Trevor asked, gazing up at Lars. Lars' face was stone cold, probably because he had to deal with the dumb shit Trevor stirred up.

"First off, it's not a piece of shit. Second off, did you even try to figure it out?" Lars scoffed, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

"Give it to me, I'll see what I can do." He sighed, obviously not wanting to deal with him anymore. Trevor basically shoved the proton pack into Lars’ arms, which didn't waiver when he received it. Hot. You thought. Lars trudged to his station and set the proton pack down. He removed the protective covering, and coughed when smoke blasted in his face. You snickered, which earned an unimpressed glare from him. Lucky appeared beside you, ready to talk about what else you've come up with her to test.

"What is it?" She asked, tinkering with the item on the desk.

"You know how there's buckshot for a shotgun? I've figured out how to compress protons into little pellets and create a buckshot-type stream." You explained, showing her how it would work on a sheet of paper. You heard Lars muttering about something, though you brushed it off. You handed Lucky a few pellets, which contained about 12 rounds of buckshot each. She eagerly shot off into the test room, excited to try it out. With nothing else to do, you shuffled behind Lars, peering over his shoulder to watch his hands work efficiently. Lars really didn't know you were there, truly he didn't. So when he turned around to go get something from his desk, he jumped back.

"Good Christ you scared the shit out of me!" Lars exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest and letting out a big sigh. He shoved his glasses back up his face and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry! I just wanted to watch you work..." You trailed off, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

"Well maybe next time maybe fucking keep to yourself." He snapped, brushing past you, his hand grazing yours. You just stood there, hands clenched and cheeks burning in embarrassment. Phoebe stood next to you, putting a hand on your arm and whispering,

"It's ok, really, he doesn't mean it."

You couldn't help the tear that slithered down your cheek. Blinking away the rest of the tears, you muttered an 'excuse me' and walked outside of the lab. Taking a left, you headed through the doors to the cool breeze outside. Stuffing your hand in you pocket, your hand found purchase on the cig case you had. Sliding one out of it and grabbing your lighter, you lit the cig up and shoved the lighter back into your left pocket. You sat against the wall and pulled your knees to your chest. Hearing the doors open, you see Trevor walk out. He spots you and slides down the wall, sitting next to you.

"It's not your fault. It really isn't." Trevor offered, watching you let out a sigh, smoke going with it. You laugh, dragging a hand down your face.

"Listen, don't ever fall in love, man. Shit sucks." You sighed, resting your head against the cool brick. Trevor started to say something but the rest of the three burst through the doors. Lars was wearing his red jacket, walking towards the car. Lucky was carrying yours in her arm, right on the heels of Lars. He spotted you and Trevor sitting down against the wall. Trevor hopped up, offering you a kind hand. You took it, cigarette still in hand.

"Put that shit out." Lars commanded, crossing his arms. You glared at him before taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out. You dropped the rest on the ground, twisting your foot against it which successfully put it out.

"Happy?" You huffed, throwing your arms out in surrender. He just stared at you before pushing past you to get to the car. 'Bitch' You mutter under your breath. God he’s insufferable. Following them, you hopped into the passage seat. Lucky handed you your red jacket, which you put on before you buckled up. You zipped it up all the way burying your face in the collar. Lars watched you from his peripheral, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

“Are gonna stare or drive the goddamn car?” You snapped, turning to gaze at him. His hand tightened on the wheel and started to drive.

To say that Lars was a good driver was a pretty big overstatement. You were even lucky you made it to the school alive, much less in once piece.

“You are never ever driving again, Lars.” You said, stumbling out of the car as a wave of nausea hits you.

“Stuff it.” He replied, pushing up his broken glasses. You turned your gaze to the school, which stood ominously in the distance. You shivered, which didn’t go unnoticed by Lars. He took a small step closer to you, his hand ghosting the small of your back. You jumped slightly at his feather touch, but relished it. Lars flicked on your switch, making your proton pack hum with the familiar ‘whirring’ sound. You walked to the front steps, pushing open the two massive double wooden doors. You were blasted by a cold air, which you stumbled back from.

“S-shit.” You muttered, hands shaking ever so slightly. You reached for your flashlight, but froze when you saw a shadow figure dart through the darkness.

“Lars.” You whispered, a lump forming in your throat. Lars was off busy helping the others get their packs on, which meant you were the only one at the front. You felt something tugging you forward. You stumbled back into the school following the tugging sensation to a room downstairs.

Lars looked up, about to ask you something, when he noticed you were gone.

“Where the bloody hell did Y/N go?” He asked, looking around. His question was answered when he heard your frantic screams coming from inside of the building. They all looked at each other, then bolted to the building.

The building was absolutely freezing. That you were certain of. The frigid temperature fucked a little with your head, at least that’s what you can conclude. You found that being able to see in the dark was not your forte, which caused you to fall down a flight of stairs.

“OH FUCKING SHIT—!” You screech, tumbling down the stairs. You landed with your head cracking against the cold floor. Groaning, you tried to lift your head, but you felt like you were spinning like a top. You eventually stood, swaying slightly after. You blinked a few times, holding your head in your hands. In the corner of your eye, you could see another shadow figure. It was tall, tall enough to reach the ceiling. It started to approach you, but you let out a scream, starting to run back up the stairs. You felt a push, then you tumbled back down the stairs, smashing your head into the pavement again. You landed on your knee, successfully snapping the bone in your shin. You let out another bloodcurdling scream, spitting out blood in the process.

You felt lightheaded as blood spilled from your shin and lips, dribbling down your chin and neck. You were in too much pain to cry as you crumpled to the floor again. You heard all three of them yelling your name, but you couldn’t yell back. Instead, you pulled yourself across the floor, leaving a long streak of blood as you went. With as much effort as you could muster, you pulled yourself to the steps. It took everything for you to scream,

“LARS!!!”

Footsteps could be heard, which sounded like heavy boots clomping towards you. You clawed at the steps, trying to grip anything that you could to pull yourself up. The blond man appeared in the doorway, shining a flashlight down the stairwell. Lars hair was tousled, eyes wide. You make out how he was panting, as well as a horrified look painted across his face.

“oh my god.” Was all he said. He rushed down the stairwell to get you. You couldn’t make out much of anything, you kept fading in and out of consciousness. His hands, his strong and elegant hands held your face as he tried to keep you awake. Your breaths became labored again as you felt extreme pain rippling through your limbs. You let out another scream, which was muffled by Lars chest as he picked you up and started to rush you outside. One of his hands found purchase in your hair, gently stroking it with his thumb as he ran to the car.

Lars felt like it took years to make it to the hospital. His red jacket was drenched in your blood, but he couldn’t care less about what he looked like as he rushed you into the ER. Immediately after, you were rushed into a room, where you would reside for God knows how long. Lars sat next to Lucky, his face grim. He didn’t care how long he had to wait to see you again, just as long as he could see you. Lars stayed there all night, into the morning to be able to see you. When they told him that he could see you, he ran to your room as fast as he could. There you laid, eyes closed, face peaceful. When you heard the footsteps, you opened your eyes and found the blond man standing in your doorway.

“Bloody hell, I thought I’d never see you again.” Lars breathed as he approached your right side. Your hand lay limp on the top of the bedsheet. He brought up a chair and sat, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

“I was so scared that you were going to die, I couldn’t bear to see it.” He further explained. You smiled weakly and croaked,

“Are you being nice right now? That’s so unlike you Lars.”

Before you said anything else, Lars pressed a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t your ideal first kiss with him, but you relished the feeling.

“I didn’t save you because I thought it was the good thing to do, I saved you because I love you.” Lars whispered, his nose brushing yours.

“God I love you too, Lars.” You whispered back.

#ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters #lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield #james acaster #lars pinfield x you

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radiant-reid · 1 year

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okay but a blurb with baby spence (i’m talking like he just joined the bau and barely talks to them he’s so shy) and one day his absolutely gorgeous pregnant wife comes to see him and everyone is just so shocked because this guy?? has a pregnant wife?? and they’re also shocked that he pulled her cause she’s so beautiful

this has been my nightly scenario for the past like two days

- 🍓

hot wife!reader >>>>> i'm still on that shit. also this is so cute because then Jack and baby Reid could be besties

No one knows much about Spencer Reid. He's timid, but he's good at profiling and he gets his paperwork done so no one's complaining.

Despite what you told him about how everyone would love him, he feels like he's not fitting in like he's in a lab at Caltech and he's the only student with no one to be his lab partner.

He's nervous when Derek extends the invitation to a night out at the bar to include him. The little joke about whether he'd actually get served or if his baby face was too young helps assure Spencer it's casual, that they're on their way to becoming friends.

"Please come with me." He begs as soon as he's home. His head is resting on your shoulder as you face the TV. He prefers your lap but your bump is a little too big for it to be comfortable.

"I'm not sure I'll make a very good drinking buddy." You joke, pointing at the reason you can't drink.

He laughs slightly, the purest sound. "I just mean- it would be good for you to meet the team."

You agree with that. The BAU is dangerous and dark, and it would be good to know who's taking care of your husband.

Plus, you'll do almost anything he asks. "Sure."

So you get dressed up a little. Nothing too fancy, and no heels since your feet look like they've been stung by a bee. Spencer insists you're the most beautiful person in the world before dragging you off and into the warm night. A summer baby you're having.

You're not sure what to expect. To your knowledge, Spencer hasn't told the team he has a wife, much less that he's having a baby.

He stops in front of a table, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance. "Hi, everyone, this is my wife, Y/n." He introduces you.

They're surprised, shocked even with matching raised eyebrows and slacked jaws. The looks aren't new, and neither is the math they're doing when they look at Spencer. He barely looks 18, much less a married, soon-to-be father.

"Wow, we didn't even know there was a Mrs. Reid." An attractive guy says, shaking your hand. "I'm Derek Morgan."

"And a soon-to-be baby Reid." One of the women says excitedly. She pulls you in for a hug, which has become awkward with the size of your stomach. "Any time you need someone to watch him or her, I'm here. I'm Penelope, by the way."

You chuckle, nodding your head appreciatively. Easiest childcare you've found yet. The rest of the team is just as welcoming, shaking your hand and telling you their names. Spencer's less jittery by your side, and he's all smiles when he walks off to get you both drinks, even though he knows you're probably telling stories about the awkwardness of the start of your relationship. He's not phased by it anymore, he got the girl.

#🍓#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

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alloftheimaginesblog · 1 year

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Headcanons for being Tony Stark's daughter and dating Pietro Maximoff...

Your relationship stays secret for the first few months. Well actually, it's only really a secret to your dad. You know that your dad - the infamous Tony Stark - will react badly to the news that you're dating Pietro so you swear everyone else to secrecy.

Secret glances across the room as Tony and Steve lead a meeting.

Sneaking off during the meetings to make out in the hall way... You've almost been caught a bunch of times through doing this but the sneaking around is fun.

Pietro makes you happier than you ever thought you could be. Even just a few months in and you're planning your future together.

He's sweet, he's so incredibly sweet to you.

He loves you, loves everything about you. He thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world and he feels so lucky to have you.

The rest of the group have a bet on when Tony finds out and how he finds out.

Nat thinks that Bruce will spill the beans.

Clint thinks he'll walk in on you and Pietro making out.

Wanda thinks that Pietro himself will give the game away by accident.

In fact, it's Peter Parker that gives the game away.

"How long has your daughter been dating Quicksilver? That must be pretty cool, huh? Always got your eye on them sorta thing."

You could've killed Parker.

Tony hunts you both down and he's angry, god he's so pissed off but he's probably more angry that you didn't tell him.

"Dad, you threatened to kill my fourth grade boyfriend! We were kids! Why would I tell you about my serious boyfriend now?"

Pietro tries his best to reason with Tony but he's shit scared of him and runs every time Tony tries to corner him for a chat.

Eventually, Tony manages to pin him down and interrogates him.

"What do you want with my daughter?"

"I care about her, sir. I don't want to hurt her-"

"If you hurt her, I will rip you apart limb from limb-"

"I love her, Tony. I'm not going to hurt her."

When Tony realises the seriousness of your relationship, he seems to reconsider. He comes to you, asking all sorts of questions about whether you love him, about whether he's good to you or not, if he takes good care of you, if he makes you happy... He's satisfied with your answers and leaves you be but he's not okay with it all yet.

Tony bans the two of you from being alone together which means that sneaking around gets even harder.

He probably tries to break you up or at least complains every chance he gets. He's oh so dramatic.

If he sees the two of you smiling at each other, he pretends to puke. Pepper has to have a few stern conversations with him to get him off of your backs.

During a fight, you're put in danger and Tony can't get to you in time but it's okay because Pietro does everything he can, including getting himself hurt, to keep you safe and to protect you.

After that, Pietro has Tony's respect. He understands the seriousness of your feelings for the other and he knows it's not just a fling. He leaves your relationship alone.

Pietro helps him in the lab to build something and after that, the pair of them start to bond and grow closer.

It's nice to know that you don't have to hide your relationship from him anymore and that the three of you can hang out without any ill feelings.

He calls Pietro 'son'.

It takes a while but Tony soon becomes your relationship's biggest supporter. He'll be the one who helps Pietro propose, he'll be the one who pays for your wedding and honeymoon, jets you both off somewhere warm and sunny. He grows to love Pietro and grows to love your relationship almost as much as he loves you.

#headcanon #headcanons #pietro maximoff x reader #marvel #pietro maximoff #tony stark x reader #tony stark #marvel imagine #imagine #avengers imagine #avengers #headcanon prompt #prompt

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roosterforme · 10 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Avoiding your husband wasn't the best way to deal with your problems. Neither was baiting him into having a conversation that you knew was going to annoy him. But you were frustrated with work and your body, and somehow you knew Bradley would never blame you for any of it.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You had been trying for weeks to tolerate having Cat in your lab and your workspace. She was a great addition to your team. Quick and smart. Everyone else seemed to think she was wonderful. But you... just didn't.

Or rather, Cat didn't seem to like you. There must have been something about you that just rubbed her the wrong way. Other than a greeting each morning when you saw each other, she tended to steer clear of you, preferring to work near Macy and Sonya.

You tried not to let it bug you, but it was hard when Jake was constantly stopping in to see you at work. He was an attention grabber. He was obviously handsome. And he was obviously also not your husband. So you started getting a few looks here and there from your coworkers. And you knew it was all because he thought Cat was gorgeous and wouldn't stay out of your lab.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him one afternoon when he walked in and leaned on the counter next to where you were working on a line of code on your computer. "I just saw you last night at the bar."

"Just saying hi to my favorite engineer," he drawled, eyes resting on Cat where she was working across the room. When she glanced up at Jake, her eyes were softer than they ever were for you.

You turned on your stool to face him. "Why can't you just be honest with me?" you asked him. "You're transparent to me, Seresin."

He looked down his nose at you and raised one eyebrow. "This is a two way street, Angel. And you've not been honest with me."

You looked at him, brow scrunched up. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "You're avoiding your husband. He was looking for you at lunchtime today. I don't want to listen to you whining about how much you miss him next time he's deployed when you're avoiding him now."

Your heart lurched. If Jake noticed how you'd been acting the past few days, then Nat probably did too. And you did not enjoy being on the receiving end of her temper when Bradley got angsty because of you.

"I'm not," you whispered. But you kind of were. Your period was due tomorrow, and your thoughts were once again consumed with buying a pregnancy test on your way home from work. Which was ridiculous. Because you knew how you were going to react when it was negative. You were going to spiral again. You were going to upset Bradley again. He kept telling you that none of this was your fault, but you just weren't so sure.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asked you softly, his blue eyes fully focused on you instead of Cat. But you shook your head and looked down at your hands in your lap.

"No. Not right now."

"Hey," he said, and you looked up at him. "Whenever you want some girl talk, I'm your man."

You laughed out loud, drawing the attention of your labmates, including Cat. "Thanks, Jake."

"Now," he drawled, leaning against the counter on one elbow, "can you please put in a good word for me?" He nodded toward Cat, and you just rolled your eyes.

"I would, but I don't even know if she's single. She doesn't like me very much."

Jake's eyes went wide. "Everyone likes you."

You just shook your head and said, "Not her. But I need to work on a bunch of proposals and shit with her this month, so I'm going to try my best to get her to crack."

"When you do, make sure you tell her what a stand up guy your good friend Jake is."

You ended up kicking him out shortly after that. And then you texted Bradley.

I love you, Roo. Movie night later?

Then you took a deep breath and grabbed your computer and made your way over to Cat. "Have a few minutes to look at these proposals or maybe check some of my coding?"

"Sure," she replied, pulling out the stool next to hers with her foot.

"Thanks," you mumbled, making yourself comfortable. "I just finished reworking this code if you want to take a look."

Cat sighed and pulled your computer a little closer. "I know this is how you do things around here, but there's a more efficient way."

You looked at her out of the corner of your eye. "Oh. Okay... well, maybe you can show me?"

Now she was the one looking at you cautiously. She sighed again and started typing away on your computer silently, just leaving you to watch what she was doing. You had to admit, she did have an efficient way of working.

"Hey, Baby Girl."

You spun around to find your husband standing behind you.

"Roo," you sighed, hopping up from your stool and wrapping your arms around him.

"I missed you at lunch. Ended up dumping hot sauce all over my food to drown out my loneliness."

You laughed against his chest. "Sorry."

He kissed the top of your head and told you, "You want a movie night? I'll stop and get some beer on the way home."

But you shook your head and looked up at him. "I actually need some other stuff at the store, so I'll grab the beer."

He nodded and smiled at you. "Sounds perfect."

"Wait, did you come all the way up here instead of just texting me back?"

Bradley leaned down close to your ear. "I would do anything for an excuse to see you."

The warmth of his words washed over your body just as Cat cleared her throat. You turned to look at her with embarrassment all over your face.

"Uh, Cat, you remember my husband, Bradley?" you asked awkwardly.

"Yes," she said in a curt voice. "We've met. He's been here several times."

"It's nice to see you again," Bradley replied in his most charming voice, and even Cat wasn't immune to that. She smiled softly at him before turning back to her work.

"You should go," you told Bradley, running your fingers through his hair and kissing him briefly before pushing him toward the door. "See you at home later."

And then he was gone and you were left with Cat and her attitude about the way you got your work done.

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

Bradley made it home before you. He took Tramp for a short walk after changing into some gym shorts and an old shirt. The neighbors had their grandchildren over, so Bradley stopped and let them play with Tramp. The kids always went absolutely nuts for him, and honestly, Tramp loved the kids probably more than they loved him.

"Trying to get you one of your very own," he told his dog as they walked up the driveway past the Bronco. Tramp jumped up and licked Bradley's hand like he understood. Like he was begging for his own kid to play with. "Working on it."

Bradley knew you were busy with work. Your promotion banquet was coming up soon. And he was pretty sure your period was due to arrive any day now. It felt like you and he were playing the waiting game every month. Bradley didn't really mind too much; trying to get you pregnant was perhaps the least stressful part of his daily routine. Fucking you had been bliss since the very first night he spend with you.

But he could feel the stress in your body every month when you got your period now. When he tried to tell you that sometimes this took time, you didn't want to hear it. And it had only been a few months since you stopped using birth control. But you didn't want to hear that either.

Bradley took Tramp inside, and then he heard your terrifying little car pull into the driveway. You came inside with some shopping bags and a six pack of your favorite beer. "I picked up dinner," you told him. "I think I have PMS, so I got some sushi."

"Perfect," he replied, noting the way you were biting your lip a little nervously. "Come here." He pulled you into his arms. "You pick the movie."

"Hmmm... 90s throwback night?" you asked, wiggling out of his grasp and starting to undress in the living room.

"My favorite," he murmured, watching your shirt slip down your arms.

Then you vanished toward the bedroom, calling out, "Be right back."

He sighed and set up the sushi and beers on the coffee table. Then he fed Tramp dinner and waited for you. When you came back out in one of Bradley's oversized shirts and plopped down on the couch, he was right there with you. He barely paid attention to which movie you chose, realizing about fifteen minutes later that he was watching Wild Things.

When you finished your sushi and took the last sip of your beer, you gently pushed Bradley back along the couch and curled up on his chest. Bradley loved your body weight on top of him like this. He felt warm and secure with your forehead resting on his neck while you watched the movie. But he was watching you and the way you reacted to his fingers gliding along your arm. Your eyelashes brushed along your perfect cheek.

He was thinking about how good you'd look with a baby bump when you shifted a little bit to look up at him. "You like this movie," you said against his chest, and he laughed. He was barely even watching it. "It's got the threesome scene with Neve Campbell and Denise Richards."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "That's not why I like this movie. I like it because it has a good soundtrack."

"Yeah, okay," you said with a laugh. And he let it go until a minute later when you asked, "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you wouldn't jump at the chance to have a threesome if I brought it up?"

Bradley was speechless. He just looked at you for a beat while you watched the movie.

"That's what I thought," you murmured with another laugh.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" he asked, shifting underneath you. "Are you trying to insinuate that you are not satisfying me? Or that I am not doing a good job of satisfying you? Because either way, I have a problem with this."

He grasped your chin between his fingers until you were looking up at him. "I was just making my point that you'd want to."

"I would not," he said louder. "Would you?"

You shook your head. "Of course not."

He blinked at you a few times. "I think about you and only you all fucking day long. And I'm too jealous and stubborn to share you. So don't ever make a comment like that again, okay? And if I'm not doing a good job, just tell me."

"You are!" you insisted, propping yourself up so that your chest was just grazing his and your lips were inches from his chin. "You make sure I cum before you do like ninety percent of the time, and you have a huge dick!"

"There's a little more to it than that," he growled. "If I'm not making you feel like you're important to me, then what's the point?"

You gasped and kissed his chin. "Roo. I'm sorry I said anything."

Bradley was a little worried about his performance now. Last week on the dining room floor, he wasn't sure if you came or not. His knees started hurting from digging into the hardwood. Maybe his nearly thirty seven years of age were showing. And when he bent you over the piano bench, he had to work very hard to get you off with his fingers before he came.

"Oh my goodness," you said, a little louder now. "You're not even lying, are you? You actually wouldn't want to have a threesome."

"No! We made wedding vows! I'm not about to stick my dick in anyone except you! And I wouldn't even want to!"

Your lips were on his, and your fingers were tangled in his hair. You were straddling his waist and murmuring, "You're so sweet, Roo."

He pulled you tight against him, letting you feel how hard he was for you. "I'm fucking crazy about you, Sweetheart," he swore. "If I'm not satisfying-"

But your lips were on his again, and you were rubbing yourself against his abs. Bradley grabbed at your hips underneath the oversized shirt. "You are!" you promised. "You're incredible. We're incredible."

"Then why the fuck are you saying that stuff?" he groaned when you started sucking on his neck.

"You're going to give me a complex."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm just feeling a little insecure today."

"Why?" Bradley asked, easing his hands up along your waist, enjoying the feel of your smooth skin. "Why would you ever have a reason to feel insecure? You're perfect."

You ran your nose along his Adam's apple. "Cat Coleman hates me for some reason. And I'm going to have to work a little bit this weekend, because I'm behind on the proposals. And my period is coming despite my best efforts."

"Stop it," Bradley said, gently squeezing your waist so that you met his eyes. You sat up, straddling his torso. "If Cat Coleman doesn't like you, then she's an idiot. I can help you this weekend. It's supposed to rain. You can read the proposals out loud to me while I feel you popcorn. And if you get your period, then we'll keep trying. Like I said, you're perfect."

You smiled down at him and started to pull his shirt up over his abs. "Okay, Roo."

"We got nothing to worry about," he whispered, tucking his finger inside your underwear, making you gasp as he stroked you. "Unless you start telling me you do want to have a threesome."

"I don't," you promised, kissing his lips. And then you pulled Bradley's shorts and underwear down to his thighs, and your slick pussy met his cock. "This okay?"

"'Course," he grunted. You slipped him inside, and once he was fully seated, you glanced up and kissed him again.

Then you carefully pressed your chest to his. "I love you, Roo." Your lips were soft on his scarred neck and cheek as he ran his hands up and down along your back. He was so comfortable like this, with you warming his cock. You softly fluttered around him, soothing him with every little squeeze and movement. You had control over him. You always did, because he'd given it to you. But your fingers in his hair and your soft voice near his ear...you just owned him.

More than anything, he wanted to make you happy. Take your stress away. And he knew that in the next few days, you'd either be delighted or miserable again, depending on if you got your period. So he wanted to enjoy this moment with you. Let you enjoy yourself with him.

As soon as you started moving your hips, you were moaning softly. Bradley pressed himself up against you, rubbing his rough hairs along your clit. "Tell me what you want."

You sighed and moved your hips a little faster. "Make it last forever."

Bradley wasn't sure if you were talking about this moment in particular or everything. But he'd make it all last for you. For his wife. You rode him on the couch until you came, chanting his name with his hands all over your breasts. Then he flipped you over onto your back, and you wrapped your legs around his waist while he fucked you nice and slow.

"You didn't cum yet," you gasped a few minutes later when he stroked your clit closer to another orgasm.

"You told me to make it last forever," he whispered, cock deep inside you as he pinched you and listened to you whine for him.

When he finally ended up in bed with you, he was a sweaty mess, and your pussy was filled with his cum. You were babbling softly as he tucked you in and plugged your phone into the charger. He went back to the living room to turn off the movie that he hadn't even watched and let Tramp out into the backyard. Yeah, he wanted this to last forever, too. Whether it was just the three of you or not.

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

The next morning, you were in tears again. When you stopped for beer and sushi on the way home last night, you made a little detour to buy some more pregnancy tests. Negative. They were always negative. Bradley was dicking you down constantly. You'd made him feel so insecure last night, that he held onto you this morning and wouldn't let you get out of bed.

"We'll be late for work," you whispered, knowing you'd have to get Bradley out of the house so you could take one of the tests before you left, too.

"I love you too much to get up."

"If you get up now, I'll make you an omelette."

You laughed when Bradley jumped out of bed, and even after you made breakfast and sent him on his way, you had time to take the pregnancy test before you left too.

Crying in your car on your way to work had become this kind of sick routine. But at least you had fifteen minutes to get it out of your system before you parked. Then you had another ten minutes to make your face look neutral again before you made it to your lab with your computer.

You barely said a word to anyone until it was time for lunch. Part of you wanted to pull the same stunt you'd been pulling for weeks and tell Bradley you were too busy to eat in the cafeteria with him. But Jake was right. When Bradley was deployed again, you'd be nonstop wishing he was here with you. So you locked your computer and followed everyone else out.

"Hey, Cat?" you called out before you could stop yourself. She turned her dark, appraising eyes on you, and you sucked in a deep breath as you caught up with her. You knew Jake wanted to get to know her, and you knew that would be made much easier for him if in fact you got to know her first.

"Yes?"

"Just wanted to see if you wanted to eat lunch with me. I'll probably sit with my husband and some of our friends, if you-"

"I'm going to eat with Sonya. But thank you." Her face was still expressionless as she cut you off. But you didn't want to be deterred so easily.

"Okay," you said with a forced smile. "Well, we're going to hang out at the Hard Deck later, maybe shoot some pool or play darts. If you want to-"

"I'll think about it, thanks."

And then she was strolling down the hallway away from you. And the tears were filling your eyes all over again. You turned toward your office and pulled your phone out of your pocket.

I'm going to eat in my office.

As soon as you unlocked the door, Bradley had written back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: I'll bring some sandwiches up and join you.

You managed to calm yourself down, taking deep breath after deep breath while you organized your file cabinet. But when Bradley knocked on the open door and you looked up to see his smile, you burst into tears.

"Sweetheart." He kicked the door closed and tossed the sandwiches onto your desk. "Come here." He sat down in your chair and patted his thigh, and you sank down to meet his big body while you sobbed. He held you and let you cry as you curled your legs up under yourself and burrowed against him.

You wiped the tears away but kept your eyes closed as you said, "I took a pregnancy test after you left the house this morning. Of course it was negative. I don't know why I keep getting my hopes up."

You could feel his lips and mustache in your hair as he kissed you. His voice was gentle as he said, "You need to stop doing that alone, okay? We can do it together if you miss your period. I don't want you to keep hiding what's going on from me."

You looked up at him with tear streaked cheeks. "You know you're going to get deployed again soon, right?" you asked as you hiccupped. "And then we're going to lose out on months of trying. I feel like if this doesn't happen soon, it's never going to, Bradley."

The irritation you knew must have been all over your face didn't seem to penetrate him at all. You'd been subconsciously baiting him last night while you watched the movie. Hoping for him to validate all of your inadequacies. Your mind thriving on the idea that even your husband thought you weren't good enough for him after all.

But all he ever did was love you and encourage you. And right now, you couldn't stand that, either. Because when he said, "We have time, and we have each other," you started sobbing again in earnest.

He held you for so long, you were certain he would get in trouble with Maverick for taking an unnecessarily long lunch. "You didn't eat your sandwich," you whispered as he rubbed your back.

"I'll eat it when I walk back over," he promised. "Which I'm not going to do until you promise me you'll stop shutting me out."

You nodded at him and whispered, "I'll do better, Roo." Then you handed him one of the sandwiches and scrambled off of his lap. "You need to go before you get in trouble."

He leaned down to kiss you. "Nah, Mav's a softie for you. If I tell him I needed to spend some time with you, he's not going to care too much, Baby Girl."

"Okay," you sniffed, looking at the other sandwich. But you'd lost your appetite now. Which was fine. You were beginning to think that the weight you gained and never lost from the wedding and honeymoon could be adding to your fertility issues. You scheduled a physical with your doctor for just after your promotion banquet. Skipping a meal here and there was honestly probably a good idea.

"I'll see you at home? Hard Deck after dinner?" Bradley asked, running his fingers along your cheek. You brought your attention back to him and nodded.

"See you at home."

But later that night, while you were at the bar with your friends, you couldn't stop thinking about the negative test. You couldn't stop thinking about your fertility. You couldn't stop thinking about how hungry you were.

And then you saw Cat sitting at the bar with Macy. When you caught her eye, there was barely a flash of recognition, even though you had invited her to hang out in this very establishment barely eight hours ago.

You tried to block it all out as your stomach ached from period cramps. But after another hour, you were tugging on Bradley's hand and whispering, "Let's go home?"

He eyed you cautiously as he finished the last of his beer. "Whatever you want, Sweetheart."

Home. That's what you wanted.

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

Well, they can try again next month. But I'm worried about her. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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dotster001 · 1 year

Note

Haii!~ How are you? Good I hope! I absolutely LOVE your stuff and I'm crying tears of happiness just to see your requests open :D I had an idea and after I read your fic "For tuna" I knew you were the one for it. I was wondering how Leona would react if his Tsum went and got something for his s/o. I can imagine it'd be chaotic lmao ANYWAY! Take your time answering and take care of yourself! And thanks a lot for your amazing work 🥹✨️

Tsum Leona

A/N: pov, your cat woke you up at two, and you couldn't fall back asleep, so you wrote this 😂 anyway, hope you enjoy this!

"When interacting with someone from a different nation, you must act with diplomacy and gentleness until such time as you know their customs."

That's how he'd been raised…but did that apply when the someone was clearly yourself from a different dimension?

Two seconds. That's how long he'd taken his eyes off his dreaded tsum to tell Ruggie that Jack's tsum was too loud. He had assumed that the lazy thing would continue to sleep where he left it.

Then he turned around and it was gone. With a groan, he and Ruggie began to search the places he himself would be: his room, the greenhouse, the tree in courtyard, the spell drive pitch. Nothing.

And it was then that Ruggie suggested where the insufferable creature would most definitely be.

Storming off to Ramshackle, angry that this idea hadn't come to him first, he grabbed your doorknob and turned it, since you had an open door policy. But this time the door was locked.

He fucking knew it.

He gripped the knob and busted the door down with his shoulder, thoroughly startling you, and the tsum whom you had been petting on your lap.

How dare he?

That was his pillow!

Your jaw was on the ground and you stuttered, trying to collect your thoughts.

"Spit it out, herbivore!"

The tsum smiled at him smugly.

"You're not a stuffed toy?"

"Why does everyone think-no! I'm not a stuffed toy!"

"I just assumed, since we have a lot of lab accidents-"

"I don't have lab accidents. Also, the portal opened right over your house! How did you not know?"

"Portal?"

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Seriously, how are you not dead yet? It doesn't matter, why are you petting him so lovingly?"

You looked down at the tsum, then back at Leona. Back and forth. Then you held up your wrist, displaying a shimmering silver band, with an L engraved on it, that he'd bought for you for your next date.

"You rat, you stole that from me!"

He launched at the tsum but it was too fast, and he ended up kabedoning you on the couch. But there was no time to look at your cute flustered face, he had to tear that tsum to shreds.

It bounced out of his reach again, and he quickly followed. He crouched down, wiggled his tail to calibrate, and was about to pounce when your hand on his shoulder startled him.

"Leo, relax!"

"The runt is moving in on my herbivore! With my gifts, no less!"

You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled into his hair.

"I never thought I'd actually have to verbalize this, but I'm not in love with a stuffed toy."

"You thought you were when you thought it was me."

"Key word being I thought it was you. Not some stuffed toy. Which, again, is something I never thought I'd have to explain."

The tsum decided to nuzzle it's way back into your lap. Leona grabbed it and was about to throw it when-

"Leo! I'm not entirely sure what's happening, but isn't it highly probable that if there's a stuffed version of you somewhere out there, then there's probably a stuffed me?"

You picked up the tsum, and held it in front of his face.

"And I bet the little kitty cat misses his herbivore."

The tsum jumped up and down happily, as if to indicate that you were correct. Sometimes he hated how incisive you could be, because it meant he had to be sympathetic to a stuffed toy that was nuzzling against his lover's neck.

He growled lowly, before picking up the tsum and walking towards your busted door.

"Leo?"

"I get what you're saying. I really do. But I need to make sure I'm close to the school so that when Crowley can send this rat home I can punt him through the portal. You get it," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He didn't give you the chance to respond as he sprinted back to Savannaclaw.

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @leonia0 @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar

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fanficwriters-posts · 8 months

Text

Note: I'm making this because there's literally almost little about him.

Hiro Hamada HCs

Definitely a lot of dates in the lab instead of outside but he still likes hanging out outside of the lab.

Will literally get you whatever you want as long as he knows how to make it.

Or as long as he's able to afford it.

No matter what.

But he won't tell or present it to you like he made/bought it.

You just left your classroom and headed to your lab to do your homework. It was beside Tadashi's(which is now Hiro's but still Tadashi's) and always has been. Once you enter, Hiro would poke his head out of his lab and take quiet steps towards your lab doors before putting down the thing you wanted but in a box. He knocks on the door before dashing back into his lab, pushing Baymax who was watching the whole time back in. You look up from your book in curiosity and set your pen down before heading towards the door to see who was outside. When you open it, you found nothing until you look down to see a well wrapped box with a little flower on top. You grab the present and see that it's addressed to you before unwrapping it to find the item you've been wanting for a while. Meanwhile, Hiro sits on his beanbag with a proud smirk on his face.

He loves it when you play with his hair or wear his sweater.

He literally melts when he sees you wear it.

Baymax is concerned sometimes because of how much smiling he does when you're around.

He introduced you to his friends and they absolutely adore you. Especially, Honey Lemon and Fred.

Whenever he gets bored, he'd just pick up his phone and call you. When you answer, he'd say; "So bored. Can we hang out?"

Late night or not, he still manages to find ways to hang out with you. Online or not.

During weekends, everytime he goes down to the cafe, he'd wait for you to walk in but if you don't, he'll text you.

If you're sick on weekends, Aunt Cass will make some soup and Hiro will gift it to your parents even though they already made your food.

He'll definitely stay beside you when you're sick. If you sneeze, a tissue is already in his hand, holding it out for you to take and wipe your nose.

If he gets sick, then you'll return the favor and take care of him while Aunt Cass runs the cafe downstairs.

He won't admit he's sick and deny it all the time until he accepts it(which is after 30 minutes).

He only lets you to enter his room even when he's asleep.

When he wakes up, expect a goofy smile on this raven haired boy.

"Hey beautiful/handsome/gorgeous."

Cheesy when he's half asleep.

If you're ever scared, he'd sent Baymax over to comfort when he couldn't. If he could, then he'll go to your room and comfort you himself.

He'll probably wake up later than you but we all sleep late sometimes too so...

During weekdays, he always pick you up at your place, brings you your favorites from The Lucky Cat Cafe before walking to SFIT together.

Or you'd be the one picking him up from his place.

It depends on who's texting who to pick who up.

He loves his bags of gummy bears so you buy some more for him.

He loves you even more.

When you two have to do hero stuff, you always ride with him on Baymax when traveling.

He finds you so good-looking in your hero suit that he nearly draw you on his textbook. Trying to be like Miles Morales.

JK. Definitely draw you.

He loves to take you out on dinner dates because he found them more romantic than lab dates.

Gets seriously worried when something happens to you when you fight bad guys together.

He has magnets on your gloves and shoes like his hero suit just so he can keep you still on Baymax's back.

He loves it when you get so serious in your things like, studying, fighting, gaming, creating something. It shows that you're putting a lot of effort into it and he's proud of it.

Always gets higher score than yours in tests, and sometimes lower. Yours is around 90% all the time thanks to your scheduled study dates every time before final exams or tests. But his? 99% and 89% all the way. Sometimes you both get 100.

He loves PDA but not around Aunt Cass. He gets super flustered but so confident when she or his friends are not around.

Brags about you to Karmi to make her jealous.

Literally never stops.

He just love you so much.

Homemade ice creams!

Especially during summer break.

He wanted to make a machine for it but you prefer making them yourself.

He'll join you once he gets too hot from the heat that he stops half way making it. Just wait.

If it's too long to make, you guys would just use science to make the ice cream freeze quicker.

Has a wall for polaroids of you guys on your dates (takes one on each date).

Mostly only you guys but in some there's Baymax and/or Fred who wants to join in by photo bombing it.

Aunt Cass loves them and likes to ask Hiro which date did you guys go to while pointing at a Polaroid.

The camera is yours but he's the one to keeps the photos.

Always play co-op games with you.

Any kind.

Movie nights neither of you guys are tired.

Holds your hand in public even when doing hero stuff.

Honey Lemon will suggest you what kind of dates you two should do together.

Wasabi is a supporter. When someone is about to intervene, he'd politely ask them to leave so you and Hiro can have some quality time together.

GoGo is proud whenever Hiro makes the first move during your dates.

Tells you who he's with and where he's going to.

He wants you to trust him as much as he trusts you.

Rarely is jealous. But definitely get defensive when someone flirts with you.

If you guys ever argue, he'd be the first one to apologize and you two hug it out.

Makes you vehicle of your choice out of scrap. But no car yet. (Motorcycle, skateboard, scooter, etc)

If you love flowers, he'll buy you seeds for them and you'd give the flowers to Hiro and Aunt Cass. Little flower crowns for Mochi and Baymax, too.

If Hiro ever gets a nightmare. You'd know.

Literally.

Like, he shot up from his sleeping state from his nightmare, panting and sweating cold sweat and you'll just wake up in the middle of the night and say to yourself, "Something just happened."

He's a lot more open to you than he is to his friends.

Loves to share a sweater during winter. And he'll make sure to use the big comfy one.

He adores the view of you in the winter. It warms his heart and his face.

Comforts you whenever you're sad whether you need him or not.

You and the gang plays Just Dance at Fred's house and even- almost- got Clifford to do it.

He makes you your own mini-max that suits your personality.

Video call through your Mini-max and his Baymax if either your phones are charging.

Never sleeps on your sleepovers and ended up fighting to stay awake during the day because you wanted to hang out together.

You guys ended up sleeping in his room and on his bed anyway.

He'd keep every single present you give him because he cherish them.

You'd keep every single present of his and put them to use if they are made for it.

Matching silver necklaces.

Deep conversations on your rooftop.

Skincare together after you both turn 16.

Planning on moving to an apartment that's only a few blocks away from the Lucky Cat Cafe and your house when you turn 20.

#hiro hamada x reader #hiro hamada #x reader #disney #fanfiction #headcanon #big hero 6 #gogo tomago #honey lemon #wasabi #fred frederickson iv

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powderblueblood · 5 months

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FOUR — HOT SKIN and a HALL PASS

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: rules, you've recently learned, are for breaking– sanity is also, apparently, relative. after making a statement in the cafeteria, you play hooky with eddie in main street vinyl. content warnings: MINORS DNI tension you would need a chainsaw to cut through, farm-to-table snarking, do they even know they're yearning, nancy wheeler i'm sorry i shittalked you again (it will get better i swear) word count: 4k

Dear reader, do you ever feel like you’re completely losing your grasp on reality?

You’ve cruised through life almost seamlessly up to this point. Yours is a well-oiled machine, one you painstakingly built yourself. But do you ever feel like you’ve spent so much time constructing something so carefully that it doesn’t make sense to you anymore?

Like you can’t see the forest for the trees, or the treason for the thrill.

Do you ever want to light your whole life up in flames, just to see what’s really fireproof?

“So, which is it?”

You’re standing at your locker, making a bad job of touching up your now-flaking under-eye concealer when a voice rings out from the other end of the hall. It bounces off the cool metal of the lockers, the tack of the linoleum. It makes your shoulderblades go tense.

“Has little Lacy been hiding a pair of brass balls this whole time, or is she on a suicide mission?”

You’d roll your eyes, but your face is aching.

“Showing up with me this morning would have been one thing, but sitting yourself at my little table of outcasts? At lunch? The most important social event of the day?”

Munson lets out a low whistle from where he leans, a couple of lockers up from yours.

The hallway is deserted save for the both of you; you, out on a forged hall pass and him, probably just ditching to ditch. You peer at him from behind your locker door. He’s standing slanted in a long, lithe line made bold and jangly by his carefully curated metalhead armor.

You, and this comes with a hefty dose of begrudgery, have to hand it to him– he leans great.

“Talk about blowing up your reputation beyond repair.”

You know he’s making fun of you– he’s not exactly subtle about it, nor is he about anything. It’s all in the lilt of his tone, how ridiculous he thinks the interwoven politics of the cafeteria are, how dumb he thinks you are for considering that in the least bit important.

Munson’s idea of survival in high school is attacking conformity with a nuclear bomb, whereas yours is a little more artful.

“I know this might be hard for you to comprehend, Munson,” you sigh, and the sound rattles through your ribcage– you are tired, tired of him, “given that your understanding of object permanence has clearly been stunted at an infantile level, but the world does not revolve around you."

"No?!" he croons, sarcasm slicking out of him.

"I was catching up with Ronnie.”

“Right, because you guys have been such good gal pals up to this point,” Munson scoffs.

His face, framed by those wild waves, materializes in the reflection of your locker’s mirror, peering over your shoulder. You slam the door and pivot to face him properly, impact ringing out like a gunshot.

He does a little jump, a shadow of his shock at you on Harrington’s porch.

That reaction is like a shot of espresso straight to the veins.

Good. Be afraid. Asshole.

You're sure as fuck awake now!

“Lab partner love never dies,” you say, leveling his stare. “You’d know that if you showed up for Biology once in a while.”

“Maybe I need a tutor. I could use someone to help me brush up on anatomy.”

“Sorry. I don’t teach remedial.”

“Maybe you should start. Rehabilitate your image.”

“Again, who died and made you my parole officer?”

His expression cracks; a gasp of a laugh. “Oh, so you remember all that?”

“My hippocampus is alive and kicking.”

“Your hip– what?”

Your lips purse, and just as you’re about to throw another verbal dart at him, the voice of Ms O’Donnell cuts through the both of you.

“I hope you two have a damn good excuse for loitering in this hallway– because if not, Mr Munson, I believe you’re less than one detention away from suspension.”

Munson’s got this terminal disease where he’s more smarm than charm, despite his warped perception of himself. There’s no way he’s going to handle this with the grace that’s necessary, because O’Donnell hates him anyway.

He keens his head in the teacher’s direction, ready to roll out some useless excuse.

Before he’s even got the chance to speak, you cut him off.

“Hall pass, Ms O’Donnell.” You flash the fake yellow slip at her, careful to obscure the names– you’ve usually got one of these forgeries to hand, just in case you need it, and teachers generally trust you enough not to check them out. It comes with the whole work-life balance you’ve been treading for the entirety of your high school career; you’re well-liked and you’re maintaining an impressive grade point average. They don’t give a shit what you do other than that.

“The Weekly Streak has run into a printer snag and Nancy Wheeler’s car is on the fritz. Eddie,” his first name, which you never ever use, feels weird and heavy on your tongue, “offered me a ride to the printers to make sure it gets worked out– it’s a big issue. What with the game this weekend and everything.”

O’Donnell’s eyes narrow. You nudge Munson right in his funny bone– hard enough for him to wince.

“Right?”

“Right! That big game. Front page news, Ms O’D. Gooooo Tigers.”

The teacher clicks her tongue against her teeth, her rock hard stare challenging the delinquent beside you– it’s entirely likely that Munson could have blown it for himself just by virtue of being alive and in O’Donnells sight line, but you know she’s got no reason not to believe you.

See, your reputation at the school newspaper precedes you; it’s just about the only thing that really holds your interest within the monotonous structure of Hawkins High. With your finger on the pulse of Hawkins’ student body, it only makes sense that you serve as a fierce and unforgiving editor of the Streak’s society pages– funnily enough, that hardline professionalism included never giving Munson’s infamously lame Dungeons and Dragons club a single mention in them.

Vetoed, you’d drawled at one of the more well-mannered members that had shyly approached you about writing a piece. Not Ronnie– she knew better than that.

How come? they’d whined, as their fearsome leader glowered near the lockers just like he was doing now.

On grounds of irrelevance. I’m not wasting valuable inches on a make believe board game club.

This activated Munson. Lacy, you wouldn’t know valuable inches if they rammed you in the–

“Make it fast,” O’Donnell decrees, and you feel her watch you as you take off down the hallway. With a snappy quirk of your painted fingers, you gesture for Munson to follow your lead. And you better believe he does, almost tripping over his ratty Reeboks trying to keep in step with you.

You both heave open the double doors, squinting against the unseasonable late autumn sunshine. Heels of your ankle boots clicking against the concrete, you make an unconscious beeline for the parking lot– for Munson’s van.

“So– what now?” he asks, dur-dur dumb as all hell.

“What now is I just got you a free pass to play hooky,” you say, little miss cactus flower, prickly with annoyance. You shield your eyes against the blazing light. “Weren’t you ditching anyway?”

“Yeeaaah,” Munson hums, scratching the back of his head, “But… the plan kind of was to smoke a joint and go to the record store.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complete waste of time,” you hear yourself saying before you realize it, yanking at the van’s passenger door. You pause, raising an expectant eyebrow at Munson. Isn’t this your cue?

Baffled, bewildered, but grinning despite himself, he extends that silver ringed hand and helps you haul your ass into his beat up chariot.

Completely losing your grip on reality.

–

It’s a fugue state. It’s an out of body experience– you’re watching yourself from outside your corporeal form and you have no logical control over what you’re doing.

That’s the only way to explain why you’re standing in Main Street Vinyl, elbow to elbow with Eddie Munson.

But that might also be the weed talking.

You don’t know where the hell he gets this stuff, but it’s strong– way stronger than the shit he’s sold to your friends ever since he started dealing. Well, you guess it makes sense that he’d keep the good shit for himself. You’d do that too, if you were him.

What if I was him, you idly wonder, peering up at him as he flicks through letters R through T in the metal section. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as his ringed fingers work though the vinyl, carefully considering each one.

This is what you mean by obvious– you, for one, would have the good conscience not to look so stoned while you’re so stoned.

You definitely don’t look stoned right now.

No one can even tell that you’re looking at him, up from underneath those thick lashes of yours.

He’s got thick lashes too, come to think of it.

Munson is actually not completely unfortunate looking– but again, if you were him, there’s no way you’d wear your hair like that. You’d keep it long-ish, though, you think. He’s got a point there; a nice curl pattern. Maybe to your ears. And the clothes obviously have to go– that denim vest is a patchwork disaster. Did he sew all those patches on himself?

A vision of him hunched over the thing with a needle and thread in hand flits through your brain, pricking himself more than he can pick up a stitch. He’s gone out of his way to make himself look like this– kind of similar to the way you pick up your skirts so they’re always impeccably just short enough.

Now, the leather jacket you could forgive if at least the collar was different. Maybe one of those Brando-style biker jackets, you could rock that. Or a brown leather number, to bring out your eyes– which are his eyes, of course, his crazy dark empty universes of eyes.

The kind of eyes with the kind of stare that nails you in place and makes you want to do crazy shit like ditch class and get loaded and stand dumbly in a record store. Those eyes.

That are staring at you. He’s staring at you. Right back at you.

“I can read your mind,” Munson monotones, unblinking.

You go flush, heat crawling all the way up to your ears. “Wh–what?”

Then he nudges you and snorts, breaking the spell.

“You have gotta stop thinking such dirty thoughts about me, ice princess. You’re gonna melt.”

You scoff, shaking your head– but the cartoonish move is more to ground you in reality than a reaction to him and his idiocy. You’re Wile E Coyote after blunt force impact with an Acme anvil, shaking the circling birds away.

“They don’t even have what I’m looking for here.”

Stalking around the stacks of records, with no clear direction in mind, you feel Munson’s laser stare follow you. “Yeah, they don’t usually file Madonna next to Motörhead, Lacy.”

They’re both filed under M, aren’t they? is what you want to say. “I don’t listen to Madonna,” you protest instead, all quietly miffed and earnest with a crinkle in your brow.

“Mm, don’t think that’s true,” Munson smirks, rounding on you around the rack. “You gave me a pretty spot on rendition of Like a Virgin– or does your hippocrampus not recall?”

“Hippocampus,” you breathe out, but it’s lost in the din of Main Street Vinyl’s quiet, carpeted atmosphere, “I don’t listen to her, like, recreationally. I can’t help if that song’s an earworm.” A beat. “I also can’t help if you’re a particularly serenadable virgin.”

“She’s gonna touch me for the very first tii-iime…”

“That was a threat.”

You make an active attempt toward tunnel vision as you slowly tread through the store, feeling the high starting to turn on you– this was the part smoking weed that you hated, the few times that you’d imbibed in it. That lack of control over the way you were coming across. For a girl trained in the art of saying all the right things, this was dangerous. Your tongue felt both loose and heavy in your mouth, like it could come out with anything and you couldn’t stop it, it’d just roll on out.

The malevolent presence of Munson and your pathological need to one up him wasn’t helping matters.

Ever since the parking lot at school, you’ve been stalking around like there’s a target on your back. Evidently, you’re not the kind of girl that chills out when you smoke, which is equal parts a relief and a disappointment to Eddie. He wonders what you’d look like, mellowed out and floating. Your eyebrow unarched and your lips not poised for attack.

He’s also acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with you then, either.

But he can’t tear his eyes away from you, a hyperfocus that he’s assuming is a symptom of his own buzz. Every little twitch and jump you do– it’s like it’s begging him to pay attention. Like if he looks away for even a second, he might miss something.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, eyes trained on you while you thumb through the records.

As much as you love music, and you do, you have a tough time describing exactly what you want to listen to. The notes in the songs that you revisit again and again read more like physical feelings, sparking off in your nerve endings. For example, listening to River by Joni Mitchell feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest. Listening to Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees feels like you have fairy lights at the end of your fingertips.

“I want something that sounds…” you say, noticing the distinct feeling of cottonmouth setting in, “Ticklish.”

“Ticklish,” Munson deadpans back at you.

“Something that sounds like someone’s running a xylophone mallet down my spine.”

He regards you for what feels like an excruciatingly long timewith this terrible, awful look on his face– brows ticked up over his glassy bloodshot eyes, pink mouth peeling into a grin, and this look, this look of wonderment. Like he can’t believe you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re saying shit like this to him.

Join the club.

“... You don’t get stoned a lot, do you?”

“Ugh!” you groan, a little louder than you mean to– the cashier shoots you a glare as you stalk past Munson, stalk past him, cheeks flaring pink. “I know what I’m talking about. I know it when I hear it– I heard a record just like that earlier this year! It’s like, some band from Scotland or something? Totally incomprehensible lyrics, yeah, but that’s what it felt like. It was like… bone deep.”

You hear Munson emit the teeniest hehe! and you just about snarl at him over your shoulder.

Rounding on the alternative section, limited as it is, you feel a welcome sense of familiarity. You haunt this corner when you can, when you’re out of sight from prying eyes. There’s only one other regular purveyor of this little corner of Main Street Vinyl that you know of. You trace a thumb over the spines of the cassette cases–it’s mostly tapes, rarely ever records because tapes are easier to import and harder to damage, and it’s always haphazardly organized–and then you spot it.

Victoriously, you thrust it in Munson’s face, which is right over your shoulder. He’s frequenting that spot a lot recently. “Ha!”

“Oh!” he chirps, sounding almost pleasantly surprised and plucks the tape from your fingers. “... Cocteau Twins?”

You falter, eyelashes flickering as you look up at him. Dammit. He even pronounced it right.

“You know them?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He runs a thumb over the plastic casing, edging a little closer to you. That came outta left field.

“This shit… sounds like what a haunted music box would sound like.”

Aaand we’re back in the room.

“Okay…?”

“This is creepy, cursed doll music.”

And the room is filled with assholes.

“Alright.”

“This is what you hear right before you’re about to get possessed by the ghost of Tiny Tim. The whiniest little bitch ghost of all time.”

And all the assholes are named Eddie Munson.

“I get it.”

“You better be careful with this stuff, Lacy-Wacy,” he teases, mocking that fraudulent concern ripped straight from an episode of Donahue. He taps the cassette case against your forehead. “Music like this is a gateway drug. A gateway drug to hanging out with, like, Jonathan Byers.”

You reach out and grab his wrist, tugging his hand and that damn tape away from your face. You’re shocked to find that the skin under your fingers is blazing hot–same as you felt through his shirt when he helped you to the door in your drunken stupor.

Does he always run this warm? you wonder. Is it all that Satanic poseur poison coursing through his stupid veins?

“Well, it’s a little late for that,” you tell him, and you’re not quite sure why. Probably because every secret you swore would die with you is slowly but surely punching its gnarly hand from the grave, like fucking Carrie from fucking Carrie.

Munson doesn’t even express any overt shock, like he’s learning to roll with the punches of you revealing bits and pieces of yourself through sheer annoyance with him. He just cocks his head, challenging you with a silent, Really?

This chick. This blink-and-you’ll-miss-it chick.

“I ran into him in this corner a lot,” you explain breezily, tilting a shoulder up like it doesn’t bother you, like it’s never bothered you. “We’d always be standing next to each other at the listening booths, and I’d be listening to stuff I couldn’t take home and he’d be listening to stuff he couldn’t afford to buy and… We like a lot of the same music. We went out on like, one date if you could even call it that, and it didn’t work out.”

“Because he’s a creepazoid?”

“Because he was hip deep in it for Nancy Wheeler,” you supply, a green monster gurgling in the pit of your stomach. “Like every other respectable member of the male species.”

It was the summer before junior year, a punishingly hot one even by Hawkins standards. You’ve never been good in the heat and that summer made your entire body feel ill-equipped, your skin ill-fitting. Main Street Vinyl had those big, big box fans right near the cash desk which was right near the listening booths, so you would spend the majority of your time there when you weren’t being forced to the lake or Skull Rock with your friends.

Jonathan would look at you with alarm at first, like you were trespassing. Then he’d spy what you were listening to and sneak these small, shy smiles at you that you indulged in– at first, because you weren’t copping a lot of male attention from anyone else that summer. Eventually, it was because his shadowy eyes were always ringed with this tenderness, with knowing. Like you two were sharing a secret. It made you be able to look past the greasy hair and crippling social awkwardness.

You know you rocked his world the day you breezed past him at the listening booth, leaned in and whispered, I love Linda Thompson's voice, don't you?

But still, the Love’s Baby Soft scented specter of Nancy Wheeler loomed large. You picked what you thought was a secluded spot in the park for your ‘date’, which included a conversation that was almost entirely cruise directed by you. Said conversation completely flatlined when you both spotted Nancy Wheeler cresting a hill, walking her family dog.

At this point, you and Nancy were most familiar with each other from the school newspaper– she, the peachy-cheeked junior, the rising star that was sure to make editor and you, the girl who knew where the parties were happening and where the bodies were buried.

The picture of coquettishness, she offered you and Jonathan an awkward, stilted wave. Jonathan spoke a grand total of three words after she left, zeroing in on the spot where she appeared like a man possessed.

You didn’t acknowledge his existence after that.

It’s not that you were particularly hung up on Jonathan Byers, but you didn’t expect someone like him to be able to elicit that cold sinking feeling you were used to experiencing at the hands of other boys and their ignorance. Maybe it hurt more because you thought you had something in common– something real, something that wasn’t shotgunning a can of Busch. Whatever it was, it made you sure of two things.

You hated Nancy Wheeler, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You wished you didn’t hate her. But you also wished she’d dissolve into a fine mist.

“Wheeler’s a priss,” Munson pulls you out of memory lane in a harsh left turn, face contorting into a half-grimace. It’s the general consensus on Wheeler– the shoes are too goody for everyone to be falling head-over-heels with her, if you want Eddie’s honest opinion. There’s no there there, not like with–

“I’m a priss.” It sounds like you’re defending her. In some weird way, you might be.

I know what guys like you think of me.

“No, you’re a bitch.”

His weight on the word bitch makes your knees feel unsteady. The way he says it. It’s not enunciated like an insult. It’s a dagger cloaked in velvet. It’s warm, like he is. It’s almost filthy. It makes you look at his mouth.

“You’re a stone cold killer bitch,” Eddie’s voice hums low in his chest. His heartbeat is picking up, and he wonders if you can feel it where your freezing fingertips are squeezing his pulse point, “and I think–”

“You two truant assholes gonna buy anything today or am I gonna have to call the goddamn dog warden on y’all?”

Heaved back into reality by the clerk at the cash desk. A trickle of cold sweat runs from the nape of your neck into the collar of your sweater. Heaved back into reality to see you’re still clutching Eddie Munson by the wrist, and he’s looking at you like you’re the last Popsicle. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day.

It gets so hot here in summer.

“I think,” you breathe as you unstick your fingers from him, suddenly aware that you’re parched and starving and your face hurts, “it’s time for me to go home.”

“I– yeah,” Munson stumbles, also perturbed by the interruption. His red-ringed eyes gain a little more clarity. He’s seeing something you’re not seeing. He shouldn't be letting himself see that. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go back to the van. Let me make you look at me like that again. Let me see if you’re cold all over. I can fix that.

“No, I gotta…” Your head pounding, your thoughts swimming– the sharp and stupid realness of this whole afternoon coming into perfect view. What are you doing? “I need to walk it off.”

He inhales sharply, a strangled chuckle– oof. That other shoe, that buckled heel of yours, clattering to the floor. He should have expected that, right? There’s no way you’d wanna… Because you’re you and he’s…

Eddie retreats back into himself a step or two; it looks like he’s gone all bashful, a little color dropping out of his cheeks. His hands clasping behind his back. His heart is in his big intestine.

“That’s the second time you’ve turned me down today, sweetheart. Keep it up, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

Munson, get the fuck out of here before I ban you again! and Jerry, can’t you see me talking to somebody right now! explode in a cacophony, the boy and the keeper of the keys to the record store hollering at each other. You take this moment of interruption to nudge the door open with your shoulder. But you don’t start into the street without giving him one more look.

“Lacy.” He’s grinning this dumb grin, eyes gone soft at the corners.

He’s giving this one last nudge.

Your heart thumps. A reminder– this is really happening. Shit. Fuck.

“That’s the thing, though,” you say, attempting to smooth your expression out with a frosty smile. “I don’t like you, Eddie.”

author's notes: of course, my eternal eternal ETERNAL THANKS for all the love you have shown this story and the anons you've sent!!! writing is crazy so thank you for caring about mine. onto the fun stuff because you know i love a reference: - he leans great. a shameless my so-called life drop but eddie to me is a kind of stunning midpoint between catalano (left back twice) and krakow (would go down on you for days) - someone in the tags said ronnie and lacy should hold hands and i don't disagree. lab partner love never dies! - there's never a bad time to listen to ace of spades by motörhead - there's also never a bad time to listen to treasure by cocteau twins, which is the album lacy is referencing - i always fee like the zombie hand reaching out of the ground motif is unfairly accredited to the living dead franchises or something like that, but of course the most iconic instance to me is from carrie (1976) because women own horror - god, we really need to bring back listening booths in record stores! like we really need to bring them back lest romance die forever. - richard and linda thompson, also forever!!!!! my headcanon for this re: jonathan byers is this particular record is a joyce byers influenced choice. joyce and lonnie loved this record (when they were happy... lol) and played it all the time when jonathan was a baby. their original copy got lost (or destroyed) and sometimes jonathan will play it in the main street listening booth but he won't bring it home because he knows it's painful for his mom. - all my stone cold killer bitches in the house make some noise - jerry from main street vinyl you will always be rob from high fidelity in MY HEART (eddie is barry even though he doesn't work there lmao) - ok my hellcats! that's all the cultural education for this chapter!! thanks again for reading, reblog and scream at me in the asks because i so appreciate (and need) the support and i'd also love y'all to send me prompts! don't be shy! i love an in-universe blurb!

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x f!reader #e. munson by powder

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 4 months

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HEAR ME OUT— levi finally confessing his feelings for Y/N on new years

OMGGGGGGG THIS IS SO CUTE (this also ended up longer than i intended because i decided to add dialogue LMAO sorry)

i can imagine him doing it as a new year's resolution type of deal

like you'll be walking along the docks, with fireworks planned to go off across the bay. as you're watching the fireworks, he's intently watching you, his lips slightly parting as he appreciated the wonder in your eyes from watching the pretty colors, which were getting reflected off your face, painting your eyes with colors that made them seem to pop out even more to him than they already did

it's levi, so of course he'd be struggling even then over whether he should confess or not. i can see him maybe admitting it to himself a few weeks ago, but being unsure of when or how to tell you, or if he even should tell you. will it ruin your friendship? what if you didn't feel the same? what if he wasn't good enough for you?

but seeing you in those colorful lights, with nothing but innocent curiosity and awe in your eyes, gave him the resolve and desire to finally confess.

he'd be lost in you, and wouldn't even notice when you start trying to chat with him again after the fireworks show had ended and the new year had officially begun.

"what's your new years resolution?" you asked. "i'd probably say mine is trying to be cleaner at home, but i already know that's not gonna happen. you're probably going to have to come over to keep my shit together."

"you'd still be a shitshow even if you suddenly become a master at cleaning," he mentioned with a scoff.

"well?" you pressed with a head tilt, still prompting him to answer your question about his new year's resolution.

it took him a moment to respond.

"...probably be better at voicing how i feel without ignoring it."

"well, you never were good at words, were you?" you smirked as you casually teased him. "you just end up scowling at everyone, so people just think you're feeling grouchy all the time."

"and what about you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"what?"

"do you also think i'm nothing but grouchy?"

"hmm," you mumbled, thinking about what to say. "maybe 80% of the time. the other 20% seems to involve you being worried about something, usually if something wasn't clean enough or if you were going to run out of tea."

he snorted at your comment. you couldn't read the expression on his face, but it did seem like he was deep in thought, as if he was trying to formulate something to say. as you said, he was never good with words.

"well, let's start simple. what are you feeling right now?"

"...a little annoyed at how loud those damn fireworks were. a bit disappointed in how many drinks four-eyes had."

"well hange had been working their butt off trying to get their lab together after the holidays. they deserve to let a load off, even if that is being 5 shots in and playing dumb party games."

he averted his gaze as he tried to formulate his next words.

"...and probably confused," he whispered quietly.

"about?"

"there's this brat that's been pissing me off," he eventually said. "has been for a few years actually. and it pisses me off even more that part of me looks forward to it."

you raised an eyebrow at him. "you look forward to being pissed off?"

you saw him begin to shuffle around awkwardly.

"...only when it comes to them, i guess," he mumbled, still looking down towards the ground. "...kinda realized that i've grown quite fond of them, in a way as more than just friends, but that i've been too caught up in my head to really acknowledge it."

now you were the one frowning.

"levi ackerman actually having feelings for someone?"

there was a hint of astonishment and animosity in your voice as you turned to better face him, holding your hand against your waist in an almost accusatory fashion.

"who the hell is this mysterious person and why haven't i heard of them?"

he remained quiet for a moment before finally looking up, his intense, grey eyes looking directly into yours.

"you."

#kat chats #levi and reader are idiots in love in every universe i write sorry not sorry #thinking of levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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bakasara · 6 months

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Trying to parse my thoughts on Izzy's death and why I had a different reaction to it than I thought I would. To summarize: I thought I wouldn't like it, but also that they wouldn't do it; the opposite happened– they did it but I'm ok with it.

I'm also feeling like talking through some mourning for an amazing character, so follow along if that's you, too 😌

(I should probably clarify the following thoughts are coming from someone who deeply enjoyed this season.)

I first wondered what would be of Izzy around the end of season 1. I expected him to have a heel-face turn – which I object to calling a redemption arc and I'll get into why, because the distinction ties into his death imo. A lot of antagonistic characters' changes of heart end directly in death, but I thought they'd subvert that trope. And they... did, actually, despite Izzy dying. Not an option I had imagined.

What the show avoided is the logic, the set of tropes attached to the deaths of this kind of character. These deaths usually come as a consequence of the character's changed ethics or "redemption". My being against that scenario came from the diverging natures of traditional redemption arcs and OFMD's rhetoric.

A traditional redemption arc functions by a kind of catholic logic, if you will: the villain can become one of the good guys by balancing out his "sins"/bad deeds with enough good deeds to tip a moral scale. This often involves a purifying suffering, which acts as an agent to expiate one's faults. To the viewer, this suffering can serve to activate our empathy and make the character more sympathetic. It can also legitimize his quest: our trust in the character's good intentions comes from seeing that the character is ready to make sacrifices to become better and he isn't deterred by the hardships of doing the right thing.

The death occurring at the end of a traditional redemption arc acts as the ultimate sacrifice and/or purification. A number of ideas might be at play behind it, depending on each story: only in death can the soul become fully pure, or a final sacrifice is "needed" to demonstrate the change once and for all, or change was only possible up to a point after which there is no viable/acceptable future – the character deserves moral points for changing, but not so many that he also deserves a full life, or past crimes make him more expendable, etc.

But these are all ideas that aren't evoked in any of the crew's journey in OFMD. For starters, the show isn't interested in "catholic" redemption; its focus is on reintegration/rehabilitation into the community. Rather than appealing to the more traditional (in Western media) and more christian principle of "purification of the soul through mortification of the body", it plays with notions of restorative justice.

We see it especially this season with Ed and Izzy. Ed's arc is a whole little lab for it. We have the community being made to decide whether he can stay or should leave; catbell!Ed is made to apologize to the people affected – which he initially does abysmally, with what fandom has dubbed his "CEO's/YouTube apology". Later, he's given the opportunity to have a more honest and genuine conversation with Fang where he learns about how he hurt him. He's made to repair some of the material damage his behavior caused. Some members feel repaid by the idea that they did to him the same he did to them (Fang) while others don't (Lucius), and the show touches on what this means for each/legitimizes both feelings. Arguably, Ed using his treasure to throw Calypso's birthday party – a much needed refrain and moment of social (re-)connection within the community – is an additional form of reparation. While Stede's belief in Ed has a clear role in helping Ed change for the better, Izzy's s2 journey focuses even more intensely on the role of social support within an individual's constructive (re-)integration into their community. The show is condensed by choice of format, but the beats are all there.

With that kind of rhetoric set up, I'd never be able to accept Izzy dying in a way that feels like a punishment for his past crimes, nor in a way that should "confirm" his positive change/"purify" him for good. And he doesn't! By the time he dies, we know full well he's deeply changed, it's already established to completion. How it happens has nothing to do with proving himself – he's randomly shot in battle. It's never questioned that the time he got to live surrounded by affection mattered. The speech he gives Ed is only possible because he's changed, accessing a completely different perspective on piracy/life than before, like we see when he talks to Ricky earlier. The reason the whole crew is paying respect and crying is because he became "the new unicorn", a treasured member with a defined role. But his death itself is the show going back to the initial symbolism of Izzy as ultimate pirate. The narrative function of his death is underscoring that the age of piracy has come to an end. It's nothing to do with his change. It's posited as the "natural conclusion" (again, by symbolic function) of a character that represented piracy through-and-through, not the "natural conclusion" of a process of becoming better.

And for me, that difference changes everything. I can see and accept the logic behind it, even as I mourn Izzy as a character. It makes the grief feel like a catharsis I experience within the context of the story I'm watching, rather than a grief I feel from a show "betraying" me.

It's also a difference that completely changes how Izzy's death relates to his queerness. Izzy's change is intertwined with being able to express queer affection openly. Becoming "a unicorn" is this extremely queer imagery already – a magical rainbow creature. His role becomes akin to a mother to the crew (the mother hen!Izzy many headcanoned last season, tapping into his potential), a position that isn't extraneous to older queens, including our honored real-life mean-old-queer men. Last season he threatened another queer man for showing too much delicacy, effeminacy, vulnerability. Now, his change is a process that culminates in him singing a tender love song among the crew in drag. He's given the privilege of playing the soundtrack to our protagonists making love for the first time, which ties him symbolically to the event in a way it does no other crew member. Suffice it to say that insinuating his process of change should end in death would have been disastrous, as far as I'm concerned. Antithetical to the show's supporting ideology.

But that's not how it went. Grief occupies a big role in the queer community, but it's so rare that we get to experience it cathartically. In real life, we often have to contend with the ways queerphobia causes us trauma or even shortens our lives, or the lives of our friends. In fictional narratives, a lot of characters that get to express queerness unabashedly still die for the transgression. They're still usually the only queer character with relevant screen time or at all, at best one of two that formed a tragic couple.

We almost never have the opportunity to just mourn some motherfucker who died because they meant something else as well that was central to their character. To mourn and know we're mourning someone who wasn't ever punished for being queer-as-in-fuck-you and going all out. To mourn and not feel like it's another message of queer doom, because for once the character is surrounded by an entire crew of other queer characters that go on to live and be happy. To know the story is saying something about life, not about being queer. To know this kind of crafting was deliberate, too, because the creator has talked about working to avoid those tropes. I struggle to remember another time I had the opportunity to grieve for a queer character like they're a human being, without the implication that it's queerness itself that's a death sentence.

And honestly? It feels good. It feels like a form of catharsis I do not dislike. That I'm maybe kinda glad for. OFMD is and stays a magical world. Beyond that, in a show full of queers, one of them dies after getting some extraordinarily meaningful happiness, and it's peaceful, and I get to just be sad for the fucker without the gutting of being reminded that if you're gay, better not shoot too high. It feels like a completely different emotion that no other show, for now, would give me, but OFMD. To me, it's yet another thing it's pulled off.

As it's been known to do.

#ofmd #having warm izzy thoughts in this chili's tonight #ofmd meta #my meta

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impyssadobsessions · 28 days

Text

Excerpts from my WIPS ;3 Guess Which story and when- or if its a story even up. If ya want.

----DPxDC

“Keep communication lines on, we'll be moving towards your location.” Batman had replied, which made Nightwing clicked his teeth. “How much should I bet you're not going to do that?” Dick turned to ask Jason as both of them hopped off the bike. “Do what? I didn't hear anything.” “Okay, so a hundred at least.” Nightwing hummed, as he followed Red-Hood back towards the abandon lab.

----DPxDC

"-One time she sent DASH! To babysit ME! I'm older than both of them now. Y'know how awkward that was? Though the look on Dash's face was hilarious.” Dick smirked, raising a brow. “The guy that bullied you? Why did she ask him?” “Ah, probably because he's a puppy that'll do whatever my sister asks. She knows it too.” Danny clicked his tongue as his face grimaced at the implications of it. “I may or may not have... scared him a few times. I do like a disappearing act.” Dick grinned as he could imagine what Danny meant. He did seem to take any form of “keeping tabs” on him as a challenge. Danny smirked back, a mischievous glint in his eye, before dropping his face. “Jazz was REALLY upset about it. I had assumed this was her being overbearing and protective like usual-I didn't realize how hard this was on her.” The guilt thick in his throat. “She broke down crying and.. I promised her I'll stay out of the house when she's not home. 'Cause I didn't know what to do.. or say. I just..” “Thought of the easiest solution?” “Yeah... I guess.” Danny shrugged, defeated.

---------DPxDC

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shouldn't you be resting, sir?” Alfred scolded. A small amused smirk on his lips as he carried lunch on a tray. Bruce just made a grunt. His eyes glued to the screen of the laptop. Images, news articles, videos. Whatever he could find was displayed on the screen, while he bit at the end of his pencil. A notepad next to him. “Ah yes, very informative answer, Master Bruce.” Alfred set down the tray on the nightstand beside his bed. There was more than just lunch on the tray as it carried a medical kit. Bruce sighed. He shoved the laptop to the side and struggled to sit up more so Alfred could replace his dressing. “This whole situation just crawls under my skin.” “I say it does, sir.” Alfred's hands move quickly to help replace the doctor's handy work. “Secret government organization, children in peril, and the boarder between life and death getting thinner by the day. Certainly sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

---------BULLY

Pete glanced back up at Mr. Smith. The man was eyeing him carefully, waiting for a reply. He must care about Gary in some way to go through this much trouble, right? And... it would be easier to contact Gary's grandfather than dealing with the headmaster. Pete bit his lip as he thought. “Um, Okay. S-sure.” “Atta boy! Hahaha!” Allen laughed as he smacked his hand on Pete's shoulder, making him stumble. Pete really needed to work on not being pushed around so easily. “Though, if you can mange to keep little Garreth in line, I'll add in a little bonus for your trouble. Since you're doing more than half what I was paying this damn school to do.” “That's not-” “Some good advice. Never work for free, Pete. Consider it a token of gratitude. After all, I think we both know watching my grandson isn't an easy task.” Allen winked.

--------DPXDC

Tim had no idea how he was going to pull this off. His eyes glancing from the Fenton parents to the boy he met yesterday, Danny Fenton. He knew he was dead. At least, was ghostly in some way. Danny didn't act or looked how Greta did, but Greta was visible as Deadman wasn't. So perhaps ghosts varied drastically? Either way, Danny being dead wasn't even the part that was bothering him. It was knowing he had to pretend he didn't know- while Danny sat right next to his oblivious killers. Well, the word killer might be too harsh. Tim theorized it was an accident regarding with a portal that opened on top of Danny. Which might also explain Danny's unique qualities.

---------DPxDC

“...Danny has traces of... Lazarus pit... stronger than yours.” Tim answered, with a concerned tone. They were afraid of how Jason would take it. And Jason was not taking it well, as he felt cold rage deep in his veins. The icy chill as he acknowledged that not only was Danny his blood... he shared the worse part of his blood. The reminder that they... Had died. Those scars... that was how Danny died and so far knowing their luck, he doubted it was painless. “Little Wing? Jay bird? You there, I'm almost at your location. How's Danny?” Dick called on the comms. Jason pulled the boy more into his jacket, giving him the best attempt of a hug he could. “Better than the fuckers who did this to him will be.”

------DPXDC

Danny had made an unfortunate discovery. His powers, like all ghosts, were based on emotion. Other's emotions. Even worse, the strongest one was fear. Fear fed on itself and grew stronger and stronger. And what made him discover this, made his heart sink with dread. He was stuck powerless in Gotham as his friends were laughing themselves to death along with other hostages in the room. Danny cursed at himself for listening to Sam. He should have phased them out of there, regardless of Batman's no meta rule. Now the only fear emitting into the room was his own. They were too far from others for him to feed off of, and ectoplasm was low. No.. more like the ectoplasm was being pulled away from the ground of Gotham and seeping into some other being that was far too greedy. “Well, well, well~ Look what we have here? A little party pooper!” A man with green hair and clown painted face cackled, as he waltz his way over to Danny. The black-hair teen ripped his eyes from his friends, glaring at the man. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, while he stayed knelt over his friends. “Funny, most parties I've seen at least has music.” Danny was feeling sweat dripping off his face. He needed to do something fast, but if he couldn't transform.. then he wasn't sure what else he isn't able to do. Not like this man looked fit, but... Danny knew danger when he sees it. “Ah, but this is music! To my ears at least, ehehehehe!”

----------CAMP CAMP

“Ah. Smell that, Gwen?” “Smell what.” “That fresh breeze! We had gone a full twenty-four hours without a single camp activity catching on fire.” “Huh, I guess you're right! This camp only smells half as shitty-” “Where's Max?” Both Gwen and David utter out in realization as it had dawn that neither of them had seen the troublesome trio since breakfast. --- “Don't worry Max! We'll save you once I finish chewing off my leg-” “Nikki! DON'T!” “Well... I'm fucked.”

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duckytree · 1 year

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current bat games au lore

ok so here is part of what we have so far:

jason is no longer from district 2, he was originally a scrappy orphan from 12; he changed his name to "RED" after lazrus therapy and becoming a gladiator

Nightwing has a notorious reputation in the capitol as vain and bitchy. he constantly gets procedures done to look as young and beautiful as possible and will actively sabotage the new tributes' relationships with the capitol citizens. in reality, he is trying to protect the younger victors from being sexually exploited by putting himself on the front lines as the sex symbol

tim is the newest victor of the games. his mentor was barbara and they are both secretly working for the anti-capitol resistence.

damian is the political baby of a strategic union between talia and bruce to unite their clans without drawing suspicion from the government on why they're working closely. his parents are both big players in the capitol.

the al ghuls are the tinfoil hat conspiracy theorists of the capitol who believe the revolution is nigh. but instead of underground bunkers they prepare for the apocalypse by training their children in several warrior arts

bruce's alter ego is batman, political terrorist who is working behind the scenes to take down capitol corruption (good luck buddy)

the capitol has a capped maximum on how much wealthy citizens can donate as sponsorship because otherwise bruce wayne would sponsor all the kids in an effort for them to live

when jason was thrown into the arena, he had no living mentor and had to fend for himself. batman secretly helped him with tips and advice on how to survive

Nightwing tried to talk bruce out of sponsoring jason in the arena. it wasn't out of cruelty; he just thought it would be a better investment to sponsor a child who is more likely to live instead of a starving little boy from the weakest district bound to die. bruce sponsored jason anyway

bruce's parents were assassinated for the treasonous act of believing district citizens deserved human rights

jason's abundance of sponsorships made him a target in the arena. he got really messed up and had to go through a brutal, traumatic, and experimental rehabilitation called the lazarus project. he came out of it brain damaged and now most of his body consists of lab-grown flesh or robotic parts. (notice his fake eyes and how most of his body is covered up)

the hunger games are like the annual SuperBowl. for the rest of the year the capitol citizens enjoy entertainment like celebrity escorts (Nightwing) or gladiator games, which is basically the WWE but more deadly and no predetermined winner (RED)

gladiators all have a number that is worn by players and fans alike. most gladiators wear theirs on their armour but RED wears his as a corpse identification tag on his ear

tim purposefully makes himself seem boring and unlikable so that the capitol will allow him to go home rather than stay at the capitol like nightwing and RED.

tim is probably on like 10 different government watchlists

damian keeps nightwing around as a friend/babysitter, since he gave every other one he had a mental breakdown

damian keeps jason around as a personal weaponsmith/arms instructor (hired by talia)

talia and bruce have split custody of damian

nightwing and RED are top-celebs in their fields

bruce's name is brucellosis I'm sorry that's just the way it is

bruce stopped sponsoring for a while after jason's injury cause he blamed himself

hunger games sponsors are like gambling or horse race betting. if your sponsored victor lives you get more money back. but it is so costly with such high stakes that most people don't do it

nightwing volunteered for some random kid who he had no connection with because he has no self-preservation and is kinda self sacrificing like that

nightwing's mentor was starfire. he had a massive crush on her and she'd pat his head

RED has a tense relationship with bruce and Nightwing but also trusts them more than anyone else

there are more but they require more context and characters so hang tight. suggestions welcome! just dm me in my inbox

#nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #brucellosis wayne #batfam #hunger games #hunger games au #asks #duckytree

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esamastation · 6 months

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Part fifty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty

"Angeal Hewley speaking."

"Well, you sound chipper tonight. Is Wutai not treating you right?"

"Oh. Hello, Genesis. How are things in Midgar?"

"Things are… they are such as they are. The work of a hero never ends. And so forth."

"That good, huh?"

"Mmm. Now do tell me why you sound like someone gone trampling all over your honour."

"Heh, nothing so bad, I promise. Just, you know. Sephiroth."

"More of his glowing Alignment practice?"

"..."

"Oh, so it's something new now? Do tell! All of us in Midgar are dying to know how things are developing. How is the Healer of Worlds doing?"

"... I guess the Turks have already reported it. Well. For one, he's learned how to fly."

"... Come again?"

"Sephiroth learned to fly. Or, I guess, it's more like weightlessness? He can make himself feather-light and just jump on tree tops and glide around."

"... Angeal, my dear friend, this isn't time for jokes."

"Oh, I'm not joking, Genesis, I'm really not. He can fly now. It's really something. He didn't so much explain as he insinuated, but I think it's some kind of gravity or mass manipulation that he can now do. Because of his Alignment practice. Apparently it's bearing fruit."

"... Wonderful. Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess. We seek it thus, and take to the sky. Some of us literally."

"Suppose that's one interpretation of it."

"Tch. And I suppose by now the Good Professor has been informed, and we will be hearing of these developments from him directly."

"Probably, yeah."

"Tch. Well, I suppose it would be nice to know how to fly. How many of us will end up with our wings clipped before such heights are achieved, forever…"

"Genesis…"

"They still don't admit that there have been deaths. Janson was supposedly killed in action, but he wasn't even on a mission at the time. The others have been cadets, but it's only a matter of time."

"I'm sorry. I wish I was there."

"No you don't. Be glad you aren't - though, as G type SOLDIERs, you and I aren't compatible with these new methods anyway. Such fortune we have, such graces we have been granted."

"We all signed up for this. We all volunteered, in order to enter the program."

"Yes, and not a single one of us knew what that meant. Well, except perhaps for Sephiroth. Not that he ever truly signed up. You know, I have been looking into his history, I've dug out his medical records, trying to figure out what they are after -"

"Genesis, that's a breach of trust -"

"The lives of my men matter to me more than Sephiroth's secrets and pride. Not that the files were any help - the story they paint is more a horror story than anything. Whatever Hojo is trying to recreate, if it takes as many experiments as Sephiroth has gone through…"

"I thought they already nailed down the cause. The overdose, right?"

"That's the prevalent theory, yes. But after the first few cases of Mako Poisoning and death, they rather gave up on recreating that particular experiment at least."

"They gave up? But, aren't they still calling SOLDIERs in for extra doses?"

"They are, but there's not as much Mako in it. They're injecting something else, now - more of the carrier agent, supposedly - though Goddess alone knows how many had to be resuscitated for them to get the point."

"... What's the current total of casualties?"

"Four deaths including Janson and seven in coma, two of them SOLDIER. Oh, and one confirmed brain death, which is just lovely."

"A SOLDIER?"

"No… a cadet. What they're keeping him alive for I don't know, but… there we have it."

"... Shit."

"Angeal Hewley, is that cursing I hear?! What a day to be alive."

"Very funny. How do you know about what's going on in the labs? I thought they'd pretty much banned you from them?"

"They did, but I have my ways."

"... Right. Do your ways explain why Lazard isn't doing anything about this?"

"Not much he can do. Hojo will do what he wants, and he'd promised Heidegger a new, higher class of SOLDIER after this, so you can imagine his reaction. And of course the President is all for it!"

"Ah, I… see."

"Indeed. You know what they're saying in the labs now? They're saying that SOLDIERs were created to be the second coming of the Ancients. That we were supposed to be able to, among other things, cast spells without the need of Materia."

"I… heard something like that too, a long time ago, but I didn't put much stock in it. It sounded a bit too fantastical for me."

"Well, supposedly, that's exactly what they wanted. They gave up on it, because, well, it didn't work, and because the side effects were even more useful. Superhuman soldiers! Much better than Ancient myths, when you have a war to be fought. Only now the war is almost over, and Sephiroth has apparently figured out how to fly."

"Ah."

"I can only imagine the consequences this will have."

"Yes, um. There's something else."

"Something else? Angeal, please don't tell me you're been holding out for me."

"Well, not really, but, um. Did you know Sephiroth can speak and read the Wutai language?"

"... I didn't, but I'm not surprised. Among SOLDIERs he's spent the most time over there."

"Well, I didn't know. The Turks didn't know. I don't think it's in his file either."

"Another thing he's been keeping to himself and can no longer remember why?"

"Maybe, but, Genesis, there's… another thing. There was a group of Wutai warriors that we intercepted, and Sephiroth had a one-in-one duel with their captain - and then he spoke with him. In their language. Now, I can't understand written Wutai at all, but I can sort of follow the conversations…"

"I am duly impressed, my friend. Though more with the idea of Sephiroth having a conversation with a Wutai soldier - after having a duel with them. What, did he raise their spirit somehow?"

"Very funny, but no, he didn't kill the man. That's not the point - Genesis, the Wutai Captain called Sephiroth's accent ancient."

"... Angeal, you're kidding me."

"Not like Ancient ancient. I'm pretty sure the moniker they use for Ancients is different. Ancestor, maybe? Something like that. Anyway, Deng Yuto called Sephiroth's accent ancient, meaning really old."

"... Huh. So to recap, Sephiroth gets a massive dose of Mako, flatlines, comes back, forgets almost everything about himself, develops some new habits, has a bunch of strange questions about the way Materia, Mako, EXP and MP work… and now he's developing new magical abilities, and speaking a language like someone from a long time ago."

"That's about the size of it."

"Damn."

"... Yeah."

"... Hey, Angeal?"

"Yes, Genesis?"

"I think I have a theory of what's going on."

"I thought you might."

Lmao I have no idea where this is going 👀🍿

#Fanfiction #ff7 #svsss #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos

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