#I wish there were more dumb Shadow action figures

[fryktheciller]

in a bathroom

knox overstreet x fem!reader

summary: he ends up in the bathroom with you, and you almost gain something from it.

notes: i SUCK at making summaries and it shows. don't cancel me for not forgetting about the chris story it's an important part and i had to write about it also i kind of hate him in this story at some point but lord is he fine

tw: kinda suggestive??? also light swearing

There wasn’t a party you didn’t go to. 

You didn’t really attend them for the people, with whom a couple of sweet smiles and flattering words were enough to start and end a whole conversation for the whole night, and you didn’t even go for the stupid and drunk games they played. It was for the alcohol, really, and one person. Only one. And it wasn’t even noble to wish to see him. You might have seen him three times, maybe not even that, and never even talked to him: all you did was laugh under your breath when he took Chet’s well deserved punch in the nose, and not get black out drunk on purpose just so you could look at him. 

Saying you didn’t have any hopes was useless. Everybody knew it. He was so lost in Chris that he’d barely even look at you. The only warranty you had was his (and yours) state of drunkenness, which led both of you—but mainly him, let’s be honest— to do dumb actions.

 

The beer slowly made its way down your throat, cooling it down first and lighting up a barely satisfying fire in your guts. You looked down at your shoes, then at the sink, lit up by the faint and loud light above the mirror that was in front of it. You’ve been thinking about him all night; “how’d he even have the guts to show up after what he’s done?” was the thought that kept your mind busy. You took another sip from the red plastic glass, and then the beer was over. You placed it back down on the cold tiles of the floor; the action took you out of the hive of thoughts you had running in your mind and made you realize how sore your butt was. 

You slowly got up, your legs barely keeping you up as a black shadow left just a circle in your visual field, your head was spinning, the limbs numb as you tried hard not to faint on the spot. You took a deep breath.

 “‘M not even that bad, oh my god…”

You huffed and looked at yourself into the mirror with a small smile. Whatever was left of the red lipstick was tracing around your lips, leaving the center of your pale lips exposed, and the hair all puffy and frizzy. You leaned in, lipstick in hand, and carefully reapplied it, fixing the small smears with your hand. 

“There’s no hope, unless…”

You straightened up, and began rummaging through cupboards and drawers, looking for a solution for your hair. 

“How could there be nothing– no oils, no combs…this girl survives without a comb? How do you even do that…” 

You huffed once more, closing, defeated, the cupboard next to the mirror and sitting back on the ground, eyes fixated on the ceiling. 

The door opened and closed quickly. A tall and slender figure leaned its back on it as soon as the door was shut down, rather loudly, and sighed heavily. It took you a couple of seconds to shift your gaze from the ceiling to the intruder— no one less than Knox Overstreet. Your stomach dropped, and your cheeks flared up; if by sitting back on the ground your body lost all trace of energy, his sudden entrance made it regain every drop of it that the alcohol took away from you. 

—Oh, uuh…sorry…maybe I shouldn't have…come in… — he stuttered, opening the door once more and hesitantly leaving the room, his own cheeks reddening just a little. 

—It’s…fine, you- you can stay…i don’t mind…— you chuckle, almost nervously.

Hold on, you were really going to ask him to stay? Out of all people? A weird and deep pain in the stomach hit you; you almost couldn’t believe it. 

He smiled faintly and entered the room once more, closing the door behind him. You got up and smiled tiredly. 

—You are..?

—Dalton.

—Dal…Dalton? Dalton Dalton?

—Suppose you know my brother.

—Charlie, yes, ‘f course. sure…uuuh…Knox. Knox Overstreet.— and he offered you his hand, which you took and shook weakly. 

You looked at him, almost with tenderness, as he looked around the room, clearly lost. 

The pain in the stomach came back, hader this time; it felt like you were being punched— no, worse, stabbed in the guts over and over. Your knees buckled. Harder than before; and a weird sense of hate for him and pretty much everything washed over you. 

“A cigarette will fix anything…god how i’m tired…” and you took the worn out pack of cigarettes with one of matches stuck roughly in it.

—Do you smoke?

—I do…thanks.

You handed him one of the cigarettes and put one for yourself dangling from your lips. You could already feel the lovely effect nicotine had on you, tiring you out even more in anticipation. You curved a little and made a small semicircle around the match and the cigarette, but he placed a surprisingly warm and soft hand on yours.

—It's only polite that I light you up.

You smiled faintly at him, trying hard to conceal the most tender and hardest flutter your heart must have had in your whole life, and handed him the matches. He swiftly lit up the match, then you, and finally himself; you took long drags, watching him step on the half burnt match on the ground absentmindedly, all you could think about was how amazing it felt to smoke in such a situation. You two stood in silence for a few minutes, then you turned around and sat on the windowsill.

He opened his mouth, as if to talk, but hesitated for a few seconds.

—Really awkward and impolite to ask, but do you know about…what happened..?— his tone was hushed, almost vulnerable as he exhaled the smoke in short puffs from his nose. 

You smiled and put out the cigarette, nodding as you did so.

—Of course. Everybody knows. 

—Charlie must have told you I was– well, I still am much of a dick.

—I know that. But it wasn’t news when Charlie told me. I was there that night. 

You looked down at the ground for a few seconds, then began swinging your legs. 

—You look so much like a Welton schoolboy, you know,— you blurted out, looking at him.

—Why did I never see you? Anywhere at all?

You shrugged, chuckling. 

—Don’t come here often?

—It’s not that…I don't have…demands. I don’t come here to kiss on the forehead the girl I like knowing that she has a boyfriend who could break my rib cage if he tried hard enough. I come here to drink. And…really, that’s it. 

The other reason you had to attend parties so avidly almost slipped out of your mouth, but you swallowed it down. 

He nodded, half smiling. 

—Can’t tell if I should be offended or flattered. I don’t wanna look like a “Welton schoolboy”

You laughed heartily and shook your head. 

—Flattered. Definitely. I’d attend Welton if it accepted girls.

—What? You can’t be serious,— he laughed, cocking an eyebrow like he does most of the time.

—Do you know how fun it would be to attend the same school as my brother? The rumors I could spread, oh my god, don’t get me started on them.

He laughed heartily in response, and you with him.

—You sure don’t attend Welton, which leads me to ask… where do you study?  

—Lone Pine institute. Welton, but worse. And for girls, too. 

—Should i say i’m sorry or what..?— he laughed

You laughed along with him; the air was becoming lighter and both of you noticed. He made a few steps towards you and sat on the ground, leaning back on the bathtub. 

—Go and fetch us a drink like the gentleman you’re supposed to be?

—I just sat down. Also, I don't wanna throw myself into a sea of horny and drunk teenagers. 

You scoff, and chuckle a little. 

—Are you really that much of a babygirl?

—Why don’t you go instead, little miss?

You chuckled at his nickname; it made you both furious and endeared. 

—The roles have switched, I assume?

—They have. Now go, go.— he gestured towards the door and chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes in response, but got off the windowsill nevertheless. 

—Want me to bring something in particular?

—Come back alive.

Your cheeks flared up a little more than they should have; and you hastily made your way outside the room, closing the door behind you and leaning against it for a few seconds. 

“I feel like some kind of Austen’s character,” you thought, smiling stupidly. 

You got off the door, walking slowly in the half-empty rooms. Red, plastic cups and crystal glasses scattered all over the kitchen table and pretty much every surface around. Looking for a clean one was useless, so you grabbed the only unopened bottles you could find under the table: clear, low-quality gin and fancy brandy. 

The route for the bathroom was the same, except the air was thicker and heavier than it was when you first left the room; your cheeks lit up once more, burning, practically— 

you still couldn’t believe you were alone, together. 

—The gentleman you are, Overstreet,— you mocked him, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. 

He was startled, and knew you could tell. He had your lipstick in hand, which he clearly tried, by the red stain on the back of his hand; he quickly placed it back on the sink and chuckled nervously, almost. 

—Interested? ‘S a pretty shade of red.

He looked at you, almost in panic and blushed ever so slightly. 

—It is, I suppose…

—you tried it on and you suppose?,— you laughed and handed him the bottle of gin. Then made your way back to the windowsill.

He just smiled in response and also sat back down on the floor. 

—No glasses?

—Unless you wanna drink other people’s saliva, no. 

You both laughed heartily, as you cracked open the bottle of brandy and took a few sips. 

He copied you, scrunching his face as the alcohol went down to his guts. 

—Don’t drink often?

—You know Welton.

—I also know the poets. And charlie. 

He laughed and you with him. 

—I suppose you drink…more than i do

—less than you think, maybe. Lone Pine’s stricter than they give it credit for

Silence falls and you both keep drinking and staring at the ground. 

—Do you really think that…me and Chris…

You shrugged and took another sip. 

—I know very little about both of you. But you’re not her type. And maybe neither Chet is. I really just can’t stand the guy. 

He looked at you, interrogatives in his gaze.

—She’s a lesbian, in my humble opinion. But she can do whatever she wants. I don’t give a fuck, really. 

He laughed heartily, and you with him. 

—Wanna switch?— and he handed you the half empty bottle of gin.

—You really are a babygirl, aren’t you?

He laughed with sarcasm, then got up and took your bottle while giving you his. 

You both drank in silence for a little while, the quiet sound of crickets and the liquids sloshing in the bottles filling the room. 

You couldn’t help but think that drinking from the same bottle was like some sort of kiss, or something like that; you cursed your stupid mind for such thoughts and sent the idea down your guts with the bitter and fat gin. 

—Suppose you think of me as a dick.

—You are, and nobody can deny it,— you smiled faintly at him— although, if it can hel you, there’s worse out there. 

He smiled, almost mechanically. 

—I regret it, honestly. 

—Why, was there a time you didn’t? You made a huge, maybe not even that, a bigger-than-huge mistake. Did you realize it?

He nodded, and you felt a little guilty for getting so aggressive with your words. He looked down and kept drinking. Awkward minutes of silence passed again, where you both drank and stared at the ground. Another outrageously ridiculous thought crossed your mind, but you swallowed it with the gin. 

—You do like brandy, hm?

He chuckled and nodded in response, looking at the bottle in his hands and then at the one between your thighs. 

—You’re a gin lover yourself

You chuckled and blushed faintly.

—What would you have done?

—If I had a persistent unrequited admirer like you?

He nodded. 

—And I was a prick’s girlfriend?

Again, he nodded.

You shrugged and smiled.

—I wouldn't have thrown myself into your arms, but I wouldn't have stayed with the dickhead either. 

—So?

—Difficult situation. I would’ve ran away. 

He laughed heartily, and you both drank some more. The air suddenly became lighter, your cheeks didn’t flare up as often and as heavily as they would just a few minutes ago: the alcohol was kicking in for both of you. 

Silence again. The bottles were almost empty, and the night became colder, more humid and the faint light above the mirror shinier.

—You’re pretty, by the way. A lot. 

You smiled again; the slurred words that came out of his mouth didn’t even have that much of an effect on you; maybe he didn't even mean it. 

—Thanks, but it's the gin you’ve been chugging on for at least three quarters of an hour speaking, not you.

You both laugh, a little too much for your ugly and drunk joke. 

—I mean it. Unless you're taken, otherwise act like I said nothing. 

—Me? Taken? Oh, please,— you laugh heartily. 

—Hard to believe.

—Admit that if I said that I was taken, it would have been really ironic. 

He laughed and you followed him, then he got up slowly and stood between your knees. 

—Do I get punched if I kiss you?

—You have a surprisingly high tolerance.

He kissed you. Deeply. The taste of the low quality gin mixing with the sweet and familiar brandy on his lips. He held you by the waist, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer. You pulled back a little, tracing the outline of his lips with wet and slow kisses; he tried to kiss you back but failed. He leaned down on you, tightening his arms around your waist, and kissed you again, sweetly, this time. 

—Promise me we’re going out after this?

—Dead Poets’ honor.

You kissed him once more and slowly got off the windowsill as his hands moved down to your hips. 

You didn’t think, you couldn't think even if you tried your best in a situation like the one you were living in: with your arms around his neck and his own leaving your hips and looking for the zipper on your dress. Soon his lips left your mouth, moving lower and lower and lavishing your skin with kisses as the dress got loose and began sliding down your body; to be really fair, you didn’t even notice him undressing you; your focus was more on trying hard not to swoon right there and then when his lips left your own to smother in languid kisses your neck.

The dress fell slowly off your body, hampered by his firm grip on your hips, and ended up leaving only your chest and stomach exposed. And as he kept acting on impulse, you can't help but think it's only a fling and nothing more in a bathroom during  a party, and that his promise was just something to say.

Maybe Chris was still there, in the head that was now kissing your chest and trying so hard to undo your bra; or maybe not—maybe in that head full of love and illusions and dumb, reckless thoughts—there was you. You didn't dare to ask; you'd never dare to ask. Their motto was carpe diem, or something like that; “might as well follow it for once,"  you thought. 

—I think I met  the love of my life in a bathroom,— he muttered against your skin, trailing back up to your lips and letting the dress fall to your feet.

[steve0discusses]

Episode 47 S5: Mana Runs too Slow and it Kills 2 People

Tumblr decided to change the way it does image posts so this is going to be my hell. I can only have max 30 "blocks" of images (yikes) and uploading all your images at once and then just adding text in between is actually not possible! (least it's a nightmare on browser. I have not figured out how to drag my text in between images, so I'm just uploading every image one by one and hoping I don't forget one)

thanks, I hate it!

Peeking up at us over the horizon, our end of the world apocalypse has reached the next step of his rampage: which is to shoot glowing missiles out of it's Dragon crotch until Egypt is destroyed.

Seto is doing his best to look productive, but unfortunately this is Sad Seto, who is still buffering.

Just uh...give him a minute. He has to remember how to be Seto.

(read more under the cut)

I'm pretty sure Kissara told him straight up to call her whenever, and considering how few words they've ever said to each other, you'd think he'd remember the words she said like half an hour ago. Then again, he was kind of...sleeping when that happened. Or hallucinating, or dreaming, or all three.

Bakura and Yami are watching this pan out from the Shadow Game Zone, Bakura kind of nodding slowly while Yami becomes overwhelmed with embarrassment over how much everyone around him is screwing it. This is not meant to be funny, but it was very funny to me.

I have brought this up before, but Bakura does bring up a good point, that this entire arc was kind of against the grain of who Yami became over the course of the last 4 seasons.

+++++STAND BACK I'M GONNA RANT, FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++

Don't get me wrong, Yami LOVES to make bad choices that end the world. But why would he continue to go back here and destroy the world of the future he knows and loves so much? Especially since it already went SO south with Dartz the last time he opened pandora's box?

He has a new identity now, he has so many friends, last arc was just so many women throwing themselves at Yugi. His life is really good! I think they could have developed more of a line of logic between last arc and this arc, but like with a lot of things in this arc, it was rushed.

So him giving up his newfound modern identity that he made all himself through hard work and friendship first off feels kinda bad. Like I'm OK with him being a new guy, he worked hard for that! Lets not go backward now.

And then him coming here to regain his old identity is sort of like the show knew what it must do, but the characters were like "nah." and then went and did it anyway seemingly at gunpoint.

And I kind of wish there was any contrast between who Yami's new identity is in the future and who Yami was in the past. It would be fascinating to dive into the fact he's now two people yet again, even though Yugi is no longer in that bean. but eh save it for the fanfiction, because they needed to end Yugioh in a certain number of episodes.

And that happens sometimes. Stories are character driven, and when you try and drive the characters, they become less like people and more like iconic symbols. Here's our hero. He must do this because he's the hero. That's it, that's the reason. Welcome to Shonen Jump.

+++++++END RANT AKA THIS ARC HAS COOL IDEAS AND I WISH IT HAD ENOUGH TIME TO DO THEM BETTER++++++++

Problem is, Yami isn't that meta. He's dumb though, so in a way it does make a little sense why he had to open the box. He dummy thin.

Dummy thin and still can't read.

And like in case you've jumped in here after my accidental hiatus (hello!) and not realized this, I had to binge watch the rest of the season before we cancelled our Hulu subscription. There was the option of watching it for free on the Yugioh website, but I didn't want to change my Photoshop actions.

So get ready for me to talk about how the ending of this show bothered me, for like 8 episodes. I'll try to keep it in, so we can get there when we get there.

But you can't say lines like "We were meant to be together." in the context of this arc, you can't DO that, show.

Apparently the creator of Yugioh got hospitalized while he wrote this arc, hence the dick king demon. But also it got....messy. We have like 3 seasons of development in like 8 episodes, buckle up. They did the best that they could do with the resource's given, and we'll even get to meet my favorite character a few times before it's over (the Storyboarding God that occasionally guest stars on Yugioh, love that guy)

Back on the playing field, Yami is running out of options, when Isis informs us we can just go to McDonald's and get more McGuffins.

Out of basically no where, Mana zips onto the screen because she's ready to have at least one girl's night before the end of the world. The contrasting energy from both Mana and Isis is peak goth babysitter vs the parrot that hides behind the couch and bites your feet.

Back near Pharaoh's tomb, Yugi is still dueling over a deathpit with the child who these kids think is Ryou bakura.

This is not however, Ryou Bakura. It's sideways adjacent evil Bakura.

And it didn't really matter that this plot point ever happened because it's not like Yugi, Joey, or Tea ever catch on that this isn't Ryou anyway. But at least I, the audience can feel a little bit better about the weird twist by the dub there.

Ryou is still passed out on some stone steps. He's fine.

You might be wondering "Oh so what asinine thing is Isis going to have to do to get the items back?" and uh, you're wrong actually.

Turns out we could have just picked up the items in the desert at any time but I guess we forgot. I'll blame it on Shadi.

Joey Wheeler, who can punch out probably anything but a ghost, chooses to hide behind Tea because he knows she can punch a ghost and I believe it, too.

Back on the surface, is a scene that would have been emotional if it hadn't been 3 minutes. it was NOT enough time to give a proper send off to our girl Isis here, and they tried, but if you imagine the Yakety Sax song playing under this death here, that's about the speed at which this girl biffed it.

speaking of Yakety Sax theme, this is what was happening while Mana was crying her eyes out.,

And you may ask, was it really that goofy? and yes, yes it was.

and like I get it, animation and pacing are really, really hard. Parts of me wonder if maybe on paper this seemed OK. If maybe even as a storyboard this seemed OK. But something you learn quickly when doing any sort of narrative art, is that you need like 2x as much space as you think you do. Pause is an underrated godlike skill that takes a lifetime to master.

However, it still had good stills going on, it still had some lovely direction just...I mean they dropped Isis from top to bottom of that frame so freakin fast it was like she was a dropped banana hahaha.

They still have to carry these items physically to the Pharaoh, and so becuase Mana is a slow runner, 2 people freakin died this episode distracting Zorc. Which is also the title of this episode because I want to send home howfreakin funny that is to me.

Ah, back to Episode 1.

So how breathtaking and epic is the Kaiju fight you ask? Well good thing for you, I capped it.

The look on Seto and Yami's faces about sum it up.

And as quickly as he showed up to do a few silly punches, the great Exodia was cut exactly in half. Don't ask me how the card logic works for that, I have forgotten how this game works already.

Mana finally makes it to Yami, cursed puzzle in hand, and that ends this episode.

Can you imagine adding 7 characters to a story knowing you have to kill all of them individually before the anime arc is over? Breakneck deaths going on here.

Sorry for all you people that were so deeply attached to Shimon, the guy who isn't even Grandpa, by the way. A moment of silence for all 4 of you.

And we get back this thing. This horrible thing made out of thousands of dead people's souls. The thing that trapped him for 5000 years and launched him into the future. The only thing that can save mankind.

(If I have used this Mokuba joke like this before forgive me it was like a different lifetime before I caught covid, and I will not be able to regain those memories because I cannot curse myself with a rude ass puzzle.)

The abusive relationship with the Millennium Puzzle is a whole anime college essay I would write if I had half a brain, but alas I have the immune system and fatigue of a sickly gerbil or a goldfish that feels a little bit chilly. So I will not be writing that in depth episode but like...

Think about how far we've come with this jackass puzzle. And yet, I'm supposed to forgive it? Nah I don't think I have yet. Go to hell, puzzle.

This puzzle can go straight to hell.

Anyway, if you just got here you can read these recaps in chrono order at the link here:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

PS I had to do so much assholery to get that to go to my chrono link and not my main link. They would just. Change my link. They would just change my link every time I pasted it. Tumblr you have GOT to give me my old post editor back omg.

[nbula-rising]

from “A Season in Hell [Delirium I]”

Arthur Rimbaud

Translated from the French by James Sibley Watson

            “I was witness of all the adornments with which he surrounded himself in spirit; garments, cloths, furniture; I lent him weapons, a different face. I saw all that touched him, just as he would have liked to create it for himself. When his spirit seemed to me apathetic, I followed him far in strange and complicated actions, good or bad; I was certain never to enter his world. Beside his dear, sleeping body, what hours I have watched at night, seeking to learn why he was so anxious to escape from reality. Never was there a man with such a vow as that. I recognized,—without being afraid for him,—that he might be a serious danger to society.—Perhaps he possesses secrets that will change life. No, I replied to myself, he is only looking for them. Finally his kindness is enchanted, and I am its prisoner. No other soul would have the strength,—the strength of despair!—to endure it, to be loved and protected by him. Besides, I would not picture him to myself with another soul: one sees his Angel, never another’s Angel,—I believe. I used to exist in his soul as in a palace, which they have made empty in order not to see so mean a person as yourself: that was all. Alas! I was very dependent on him. But what did he want of my colourless and facile being? He would not improve me, unless he were to make me die. Sadly mortified, I sometimes would say to him:

            “‘I understand you.’ He would shrug his shoulders.

         “Thus, with my vexation renewing itself daily, finding myself more and more altered in my own eyes—as in all eyes which might have cared to look at me, had I not been condemned everlastingly to the oblivion of all men!—I grew hungrier and hungrier for his kindness. With kisses and friendly embraces, it was indeed a heaven, a gloomy heaven, which I entered, and where I should have wished to be left, poor, deaf, dumb, blind. Already I had the habit of it. I used to see us as good children, free to walk in the Paradise of sadness. We were in harmony with one another. Much affected, we would work together. But after a poignant caress, he would say: ‘How funny it will seem to you when I am no longer here, through whom you have passed. When you no longer have my arms under your neck, nor my heart to fall asleep on, nor this mouth upon your eyes. For I shall have to go away, very far, some day. Besides, I must help others; it is my duty. Although this may not be especially appetizing to you . . . dear friend.’ All at once I foresaw myself, with him gone, the prey of dizziness, plunged into the most frightful shadow: death. I used to make him promise that he would not abandon me. He gave it twenty times, that lover’s promise. It was as frivolous as my saying to him:

           “‘I understand you.’

extrait de «Une Saison en Enfer [Délires I]»

          «Je voyais tout le décor dont, en esprit, il s’entourait; vêtements, draps, meubles: je lui prêtais des armes, une autre figure. Je voyais tout ce qui le touchait, comme il aurait voulu le créer pour lui. Quand il me semblait avoir l’esprit inerte, je le suivais, moi, dans des actions étranges et compliquées, loin, bonnes ou mauvaises: j’étais sûre de ne jamais entrer dans son monde. À côté de son cher corps endormi, que d’heures des nuits j’ai veillé, cherchant pourquoi il voulait tant s’évader de la réalité. Jamais homme n’eût pareil vœu. Je reconnaissais,—sans craindre pour lui,—qu’il pouvait être un sérieux danger dans la société.—Il a peut-être des secrets pour changer la vie? Non, il ne fait qu’en chercher, me répliquais-je. Enfin sa charité est ensorcelée, et j’en suis la prisonnière. Aucune autre âme n’aurait assez de force,—force de désespoir!—pour la supporter,—pour être protégée et aimée par lui. D’ailleurs, je ne me le figurais pas avec une autre âme: on voit son Ange, jamais l’Ange d’un autre,—je crois. J’étais dans son âme comme dans un palais qu’on a vidé pour ne pas voir une personne si peu noble que vous: voilà tout. Hélas! je dépendais bien de lui. Mais que voulait-il avec mon existence terne et lâche? Il ne me rendait pas meilleure, s’il ne me faisait pas mourir! Tristement dépitée, je lui dis quelquefois: «Je te comprends.» Il haussait les épaules.

          «Ainsi, mon chagrin se renouvelant sans cesse, et me trouvant plus égarée à mes yeux,—comme à tous les yeux qui auraient voulu me fixer, si je n’eusse été condamnée pour jamais à l’oubli de tous!—j’avais de plus en plus faim de sa bonté. Avec ses baisers et ses étreintes amies, c’était bien un ciel, un sombre ciel, où j’entrais, et où j’aurais voulu être laissée, pauvre, sourde, muette, aveugle. Déjà j’en prenais l’habitude. Je nous voyais comme deux bons enfants, libres de se promener dans le Paradis de tristesse. Nous nous accordions. Bien émus, nous travaillions ensemble. Mais, après une pénétrante caresse, il disait: «Comme ça te paraîtra drôle, quand je n’y serai plus, ce par quoi tu as passé. Quand tu n’auras plus mes bras sous ton cou, ni mon cœur pour t’y reposer, ni cette bouche sur tes yeux. Parce qu’il faudra que je m’en aille, très-loin, un jour. Puis il faut que j’en aide d’autres: c’est mon devoir. Quoique ce ne soit guère ragoûtant . . . , chère âme . . .» Tout de suite je me pressentais, lui parti, en proie au vertige, précipitée dans l’ombre la plus affreuse: la mort. Je lui faisais promettre qu’il ne me lâcherait pas. Il l’a faite vingt fois, cette promesse d’amant. C’était aussi frivole que moi lui disant: «Je te comprends.»

[bluepenguinstories]

Duck, Duck, Goose Issue #5

At his desk, Don Treble sat and awaited his news. If it came to pass that he had wasted precious resources (however few) on some dumb teenager, his subordinates may have laughed him out and tried to usurp him. A constant worry, even if he held power all over the city, he knew how fragile such things could be.

“Any minute now…” He checked his watch.

The doors to his office flung open and the three men ran in with a huff and dents in their faces. He noticed it and was concerned. Were they this clumsy? He wondered. Did a literal teenager really do them in?

“Did she get the message?” He asked the three men.

“Yes! She said she wouldn’t interfere any more!” Larry Sundress, the man on the left, relayed. The other two nodded, though Don Treble could tell their nervousness from all the way across the room.

Liars, he thought and clenched his fist.

“Thank you,” he told them. “That is all. Feel free to resume your duties.”

They each took a bow before hurrying out of the room.

He pressed the button on his desk and his assistant soon arrived at his office.

“Yes, my Don?” Forte answered.

“That girl. She didn’t learn her lesson,” he grunted.

“Are you sure?”

“Larry, Carly, and Mona all had injuries. However minor, it was clear how they got them. I’m willing to bet that girl didn’t even get cut once.”

“Are you considering hiring a hitman?” Forte suggested.

Don Treble shook his head.

“At this point, it would just be a waste of money. I’ve got a tight grip on this city. One deviation like this amounts to little more than a dent. For now, I’m more interested in this armored figure I’ve heard so much about.”

“Oh. I think I’ve heard about them on the news, too.”

“I don’t know who or what they are, and that worries me. So far their actions have ranged from helping old ladies across the street to breaking off civil disputes. It’s only a matter of time until this person reaches their hand into the wrong cookie jar, if you catch my drift.”

“I do, sir,” Forte replied.

“Put a hit on this armored figure. Get the best sniper on our payroll. It’s best to snuff out this ant before the whole colony comes.”

“As you wish.”

Forte walked toward the door and before he left, Trevor Treble addressed him once more.

“Oh, and see to it that Larry, Carly, and Mona all receive treatment for their wounds. It’s not their fault they underestimated that girl.”

Forte nodded, then walked out the door. Once he was gone, Don Treble stared at the moose head which hung from his wall.

“There may be one of you now, armored warrior, but what happens when others follow your lead?” He reached for a toy pistol in his desk drawer and pointed it at the moose head. “You may see yourself as noble now, but your very existence disrupts the order I fought so hard to create.”

He pretended to shoot at the moose. Nothing came out.

Weeks passed.

Nemesis continued to study as much as she could when it came to engineering, programming, and design. Mac installed the feature he wanted to on the suit: a communication device that would allow him to call and video chat in order to guide her, especially when she couldn’t pull out her phone while in her armor.

Sleep became a luxury as she divided her time between school, work, homework, and wandering the streets in her armor. Between the hours of 8 PM and midnight, she kept herself hidden in her armor. As detrimental as it was on her sleep, she took solace in the silence of the night.

One Friday night, she sat atop a water tower on a hotel rooftop. She was sure she was just out of sight. Even with the lights from the passing cars and the street lights below, the shadows blanketed her.

“Anything on your radar?” She asked Mac.

A thin panel on her wrist opened up, just above the attachment which held the blades that she had installed. Soundwaves appeared on the screen of the panel.

“Nothing. I take it you haven’t spotted anything either?” He asked in turn.

“Nope. Looks like it’s another silent night,” she answered before letting out a sigh. She should have been glad there was nothing out there that needed her assistance, but all it did was make her restless.

“Maybe I’ll head back home soon,” she concluded after a few more minutes of nothing.

“Sounds good. Does your mom know that you get home late?” He asked.

“She hardly knows anything about me,” Nemesis shook her head, “and I hardly know anything about her. I think it’s better that way. She’s got her own daughter, and I...had my own parents.”

“I see. I’m sorry,” he said.

Noticing the somber air in the conversation, she turned to a laugh.

“Come on! How about you? Does your mom know you stay up late talking to the rumored armored warrior?” She asked with a smile.

“She knows I stay up late. That’s all she needs to know. She gives me my privacy.”

“Ain’t that nice? You been keeping off drugs?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned.

“Sorry. But have you been well? Any boys you fancy?”

“Well, now that you mention it –”

Down the street, a few buildings over, she noticed several figures in dark clothing climb a rope up the side of a building and into a broken window.

“Sorry. Gotta go,” she cut Mac off.

“What?! What’s going on?!”

“I don’t know. I just gotta check it out.”

She closed the panel and ended the call before diving off the rooftop and soaring through the air. She landed on the rooftop next to the building those figures broke into. The inside of the building was filled with a deep darkness to the point that she couldn’t make anything out.

“Mac. Any info on the building next to me?” She opened up the communications.

“Oh, sure. Now you want to talk,” he rolled his eyes as he replied.

“Sorry about that. I saw some guys breaking in. They might be up to something. Any info?”

“It’s an office building,” Mac answered after a pause, “um. Some pharmaceutical company.”

“Great. What would they want to be doing breaking into there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe computers? Maybe server records?”

Nemesis shook her head, “both are possibilities. Maybe some info about a new drug that’s gonna be on the market. Or maybe…” Nemesis paused.

“What? What is it?”

“I don’t know. A hunch. I’m going in.”

She cut communication again before swooping down and holding onto the bottom of the broken window. The glass shards that stuck out didn’t pierce through her at all and as she pushed herself up, she expected to see a group of masked figures staring at her. Instead, the hallway that she peeked into was empty.

Inside, she crept along the halls and looked around for any sign of activity. It was easier said than done as her eyes had trouble adjusting to the darkness of the area.

Wait. Wouldn’t there be security cameras? She wondered, only to look up and have her answer: they were all there, up on the wall, and broken.

Down the hall, she reached a crossing. A balcony which overlooked all the floors. She looked down, but couldn’t see any sign of any of the intruders. Nor could she hear footsteps or commotion. Ducking behind a potted plan, she waited.

There should be security guards, right? She again asked herself. If those intruders were anywhere, they must have been headed toward the server room. Considering they broke in, and were already out of sight, she figured that they knew their way around. Already, she was at a disadvantage.

Along the walls were arrows pointing to sections of the building. Ahead, they pointed to the emergency stairwell. Once she found the emergency door, she opened it and crept in. Behind her, the door slammed and echoed throughout the stairwell. Above her came some hushed voices.

“What was that?”

“We must have missed a security guard. Go check. Kill them if you have to.”

She gasped and looked around for somewhere to hide. Above, footsteps stomped down. She thought she heard more than one person descending but she couldn’t be sure.

When the two black clad figures reached where she had stood, a click of a door below them opened up and the two of them thought they heard someone run through. They ran down in the direction of the noise and out the door, only to be out in the balcony area. Both of them looked at each other.

“You check the left side, I’ll check the right,” one told the other, while the other nodded.

They split up. Meanwhile, Nemesis floated above them in her armor, then ascended back to the area above them.

She made deep and heavy breaths. Her heart raced. She had almost been spotted, and she still didn’t know where the others in their group were other than that they were above her.

When she stared down at the two, she noticed that they both carried assault rifles in their arms.

What are they doing with guns? Isn’t this Canada? She was in disbelief. Mac’s probably worried about me. But if I try to speak up now, those people might hear me.

She decided to float up one more floor above, thinking it would be safe enough to do so. When she landed back on the floor, she took steady, silent walks. While walking, she accidentally kicked against something bumpy on the floor. She looked down and gasped:

A security guard, lying on the floor, their face mangled and covered in blood.

She took a step back, panic washing over her.

Just what did I walk into? She asked herself.

“There!” Voices from above. “I heard someone a floor below us!”

I can’t let them get away, but I don’t want to fight them until I know what they’re after, she debated on what to do as they came running down.

When they opened the emergency door, she punched the one closest to her in the face, then took their rifle away and hit the other with the back of it. The other one caught the rifle with one hand, then aimed their own at her and fired.

She was knocked back and almost fell off the balcony. Smoke rose from where she had been shot at. However, aside from some soreness, she was fine. She looked up and saw that her armor was undamaged. Before the one who still had their rifle in hand could fire again, she rolled out of the way. The blast tore off a chunk of the balcony.

“It’s the armored warrior!” One of the figures cried out. Behind, the other two ran toward her. She was surrounded.

They all had their weapons pointed at her. By now, she knew the blast couldn’t hit her directly, but she still didn’t know the full scope on what her armor could take, and would rather not risk such damages.

Rather than fire, they held their am and she heard a click from above. She looked to see a fifth person across a pillar a floor above her with a rifle aimed below.

“May I just ask you one thing?” She looked around as she addressed the five against her. “How did you acquire such weapons?”

“That’s quite enough,” replied a voice, but it didn’t belong to the four near her, nor did it belong to the sniper above. “Armored warrior. Whoever, or whatever you are.”

“Who am I speaking with?” She asked the disembodied voice.

“Don Treble, head of the Treble family. While some may say it is unwise to give out your true name to an enemy, I believe in being polite. And what of you? Will you share with me the same courtesy?”

Nemesis shook her head.

“I cannot,” she answered.

“Very well. I don’t take it personally. And I do apologize for not appearing in person. Perhaps one day we will, if you survive this ordeal.”

“What were you and your men after? Trying to tamper with the servers here? Let me guess: to get your drugs on the market? Do you think by doing so, you’ll have control of the city?”

“Pfff – ha! Ha ha ha!” Came a spit, then a series of laughs. After the don cleared his throat, he replied in earnest: “do you think there’s some grand conspiracy you’re about to uncover?”

Nemesis didn’t know how else to respond.

“Yes,” he continued. “If we can get Moo-Moo and Meow-Meow approved by the pharmaceutical companies, we’ll have increased our profits. And if we can edit ourselves in here and there, we won’t have to do much to get it approved. But we already got what we came for: just a simple record of current drugs on the market copied onto a storage device.”

“Was that worth killing security over?”

“Business is cutthroat, what can I say? If you’re not used to seeing such things, I suggest staying at home.”

“You know I can’t do that. And I will stop you.”

“Even if you do, it won’t change our standing. Whatever conspiracy you were hoping to stop...it has already come to pass long ago. We own much more of the city than you can ever realize.”

“What about the mayor?”

“You don’t know much about politics, do you? The mayor isn’t a monarch. Their power isn’t absolute. Even we have our limits: as a business, there’s many more heights for us to reach. But as an empire, we aren’t looking for more power. There is no sort of takeover or expansion to be seen, outside of the market.”

“There isn’t?” “Of course not. Does a captain add modifications to their ship after it has already set sail?”

Nemesis tilted her head.

“I don’t get the analogy,” she replied.

“Never mind it. The important thing when a ship has set sail is to keep it maintained. That’s where you come in. You see, you are like a leak at the bottom of a cruise ship. Perhaps the risks you bring to the ship starts small, but if left ignored, those risks expand. If anything, I would say that you are the biggest threat to this city.”

“What? How?”

“You may think you’re helping others out here and there, but you’re an unknown. No one knows what to make of you, not to mention whether or not you are really human. You want to talk conspiracy? There’s been rumors that you might be part of a special project brought on by the US military meant to spy on us.”

“That’s ridiculous, I –”

“Yes. Quite so. But that’s the thing: until more is known about you, people will make their own conclusions. That’s bad for PR. Not to mention that if you keep this up, it might inspire others to start showing up and following in your footsteps. What’s the point in order and institutions if you and your ilk make a mockery of them?”

My ilk? She wondered.

“I can only speak to what I believe,” she answered, “and if a law is unjust, then it shouldn’t exist at all. That goes for any institution.”

“That’s what I thought you would say,” he chuckled, “but what about the public’s perception? Do you really want them to distrust you? The very ones you wish to help?”

“I’m used to having a bad reputation.”

“But having a better one would make your job easier, wouldn’t it? If you agree to work with me, we can make it so that the public will be assured that you are on their side. We could even put you on the police force. If that doesn’t convince you, I will personally see to it that you have a fair wage, medical and dental, and a retirement plan. What do you say?”

“I refuse,” she shook her head. “I already have a job. And I would rather live with my bad reputation than work for some crime family that pushes drugs on kids and kills anyone that gets in their way.”

“Have it your way. Mezzo, fire!” Don Treble commanded.

Mezzo, the sniper above, fired straight at the helmet of her armor, while the other four shot at once.

Nemesis took a dive from the side down into the middle of the building, down into the lobby. Before she hit the bottom, she spun in place and dashed under the ceiling of the second floor.

When she heard footsteps dashing out from several floors above her, she figured it must have been the armored goons hired by Don Treble. She extended her wings and soared back up into the air. The sniper above fired at her once more and it hit the shoulder plate of her armor. It slowed her down, but she didn’t feel the impact so much that time. Astonished, the sniper tried reloading. While doing so, Nemesis sped past and tried catching up with Don Treble’s goons.

Three of the four had already made their way down the broken window. The fourth one was close behind. She managed to catch up with the fourth one and knocked them down. As they tried getting up, she held up the armored goon by the collar.

“Where is it?” She rasped. “Where’s the storage device?”

The goon, clad in black, shook their head.

“Our sniper has it,” was their only reply.

She let go of them and rushed back over to where the sniper was. However, when she soared above to where the sniper had been, said sniper was nowhere to be found.

Great. I was led on a goose chase, she thought.

When she went back over to the spot with the broken window, she crawled out and looked all over the streets, but had no luck in finding them.

The next day, she went over what happened at Mac’s house.

“You’re lucky,” Mac told her. “If that armor of yours couldn’t withstand that firepower, you would have been done for.”

“I know, and I tried to be stealthy,” she tried to justify herself.

“This is much bigger than anything we’ve faced before. You’re lucky, too, that he didn’t figure out who you were, otherwise there would have been much worse consequences. But I’m sure he still picked up on some things. I wonder how much of that was a set up. It seems like he was expecting you to show up.”

She groaned and clenched her fists.

“Even so, that was no excuse to murder those security guards…”

“I know, Nemesis. I know,” he sympathized.

“It was gruesome. Their face looked like a rotten pumpkin,” she described the body she saw in as simple of terms as she could muster.

“Okay, I get it. Maybe you should quit before things get worse.”

“No!” She argued, “if anything, this makes me want to keep going. I can’t just let this Don Treble do as he pleases.”

“I agree, but how much can we really stop? And what’s stopping you from being too late to prevent any casualties again?”

“I don’t know. But lives will be lost either way if I do nothing.”

Back at Trevor Treble’s base of operations, his large mansion by the sea, he called Mezzo into his office. Mezzo was a little shorter than the average adult male, stocky, and wore flannel button downs at all times. He had brown hair in a bowl cut and wore a deerstalker hat. Strapped to his back was his high-caliber piercing sniper rifle. It hadn’t let him down before. That was, until last night.

“So. Report,” Don Treble commanded Mezzo.

“It seems their armor is impervious to bullets, although the force is at least enough to knock them back and slow them down,” Mezzo said.

“I see. Thank you. I do not consider this a failing on your part, as we simply did not have that information at the time. Now that we know, the next question is what will we stop this armored warrior?”

“I cannot say. That my rounds didn’t pierce through their armor tells me we’re not dealing with an ordinary foe.”

Don Treble sipped upon some sparkling water and chuckled.

“Yes. We know that much,” he smiled, despite how displeased he was. He then clapped and told Mezzo, “very well. You’re dismissed. Rest assured that you will be compensated for your efforts and I will contact you again should we require further assistance.”

Mezzo bowed, then exited the room.

That technology, Don Treble thought, I wonder...

Nemesis’s second night out fared much better. She heard alarms go off at a bank nearby and police sirens blaring in the distance.

Some possibilities: this robbery wasn’t done by Don Treble’s gang, the police cars are just racing down there and have their sirens on for bravado, or this whole thing is another trap to lure me in, she considered before dashing off toward the bank. Other ideas crossed her mind and she knew what a risk it was showing up there unprepared, but she still went off anyway.

At the bank were a few muscular figures in ski masks next to the safe and sacks at their feet where they shoveled cash into.

“Hurry! The cops will show up any minute!” One urged the others.

“Relax. We’ve got this place barricaded. It should slow them down enough for us to pack our bags,” another waved off the warning.

“Is that so?” Nemesis asked, emerging from the shadows.

The whole group jumped in place, startled, and turned to see the armored figure.

“It’s the armored warrior!” One cried, before relaxing, and tilting his head. “Wait. Is that really what you’re called? Don’t you have a name or something?”

There’s no way I can tell them. It doesn’t look like they have any guns on them, but I should still exercise caution. Maybe an alias would be better than just being referred to as the ‘Armored Warrior’ all the time, she stood in place and thought it over.

“Call me Angry Goose,” she told them, after being reminded of the place she grew up in, Goose Hollow.

“Angry Goose? Really? What kind of name is that?” He went on to criticize.

Nemesis shook her head.

“Whatever. I’m not here to debate this. Just get the money back into the safe and run.”

They all looked at each other with puzzled expressions before grabbing the sacks next to them and ran.

“No. That’s not what I said at all,” she groaned and dashed toward them. She caught one of them right away and dragged them by the collar back toward the safe, then threw the masked robber in.

It didn’t take her long to do the same with the others. Once they were all in, she slammed the door to the safe closed and exited through an open panel on the roof.

The next day, the robbers would be caught still in the safe. They would go on to tell reporters while being arrested that it was the Goose that did them in and stated how this ‘Goose’ person was the armored warrior so many people have been talking about.

Meanwhile, Nemesis went to visit Trey Cherry back at the usual spot. He sat on the steps leading to his hideout in the abandoned factory. They sparred for a little while and got into a rhythm. She was much better at controlling her stamina than when she started out, not to mention how much easier it was to pick up on his moves. After they were done, they sat for a few minutes.

“I’ve been wondering,” he started the conversation, “what would you do if you ever met your father’s killer?”

She leaned back, shocked at such a question, and felt knots in her stomach tighten.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “I’ve tried not to think about such things. I mean, the likelihood of that happening is so slim, it feels useless to dwell on it. Not to mention the fact that I’ve got my own life to worry about and people I care for. Dwelling on that would be a waste of time.”

“All right, but just as a hypothetical, what if you could meet his killer? What then?”

“I guess I would just want to ask them why they did it,” she came up with an answer while staring down at the ground.

“Really?! That’s what you would do?!” He spat out, baffled. “I’ll tell you right now why they did it! Because it was their job! There wasn’t any other motive behind it. Hell, I bet that if they didn’t, the higher ups would have sent someone to kill them, instead.”

“Maybe it’s all a job to you guys, but I’ve had to suffer, too. Maybe there’s nothing about this that could ever bring me peace of mind. I doubt I’d want to meet whoever it was that was responsible. If their only reason was that it was their job, then so be it. But what are they like? I’d at least like to know that.”

“That’s it: I feel for ya. So I’m gonna do you a favor. I feel like I owe ya a debt, anyway, given you were Erebus’ daughter. I’ll try and find out who his killer was and what they’re up to.”

“You are? How are you going to do that?”

“I said technically I’m still with the company, right?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange, hexagonal device with a purple, swirling pattern in the middle. “I know the names of most of the janitors already, so it shouldn’t be hard. Tell me, do you remember any details from the day it happened?”

Nemesis thought it over. The details were hazy, but she remembered a couple of things.

“It was definitely a woman,” she answered, “and she said her name was Misty Eyes.”

“Aw, fuck,” he shook his head and moaned.

“What?”

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” he looked up and smiled, “don’t worry, though. I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I may be gone for a while, but when I return I’ll let you know whatever I find, got it?”

She nodded. They parted ways before she could watch him use the device in his hands. Having that discussion stirred up feelings in her that she didn’t wish to confront.

Her nightly exploits had just begun, and the more she took part in such exploits, the more bold others faced got. Foes like Maple Man, a strange guy who wore a maple syrup bottle costume and shot maple syrup from his arms with homemade blasters. She had gotten into a few sticky situations with him until finally managing to turn the tables and he was soon defeated. There was also Poutine, an enemy who fought using french fries dipped in cheese.

It was hard to keep up with all the strange folks who rose up to face her, and with her still being in high school and having to deal with studies and her job on the side, everything turned to a blur and she would often find herself exhausted during the day. It was a wonder how she managed to keep up with it all.

During her tail end of her third year of high school, Dike approached her one day.

“Hey. So I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I wanted to see how you were doing,” she told Nemesis as she came out of her last class before lunchtime.

“Mostly sticking with studies. I’ve gotta keep my grades up,” Nemesis answered, although surprised to have run into Dike, someone who had given her so much trouble in the past. “And what of you? Have you been treating my sister well?”

“Of course. Or at least I hope so,” Dike assured, “but if I’m ever not, I hope that we can work through whatever hardships there may be.”

Nemesis yawned.

“That’s nice, then. One less thing for me to worry about,” she replied while walking down the crowded hall toward the cafeteria. Dike followed close behind.

“Hey, so I was wondering: since I’m graduating soon, do you want to take over my position as the school’s prince?” Dike offered.

“Sorry,” Nemesis shook her head. “I’m not really interested.”

“You’re not? Didn’t you want to help people and look after the students?”

“I still do. I just haven’t had as much time to think about such things,” Nemesis explained, “I’ve been so busy studying and I’ve got a job after school, so it’s been taking up much of my time.”

“Oh. Now that you mention it, I haven’t heard about you getting into any fights in a while.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t noticed anyone being bullied in a while, either,” Nemesis pointed out.

“Huh. You’re right. I wonder why that is. Could it be because of the vent box we set up around the hallways? Or the peer counseling room we added last year?”

“Beats me. Whatever it is, I’m grateful.” In truth, Nemesis hadn’t heard of any such things being implemented. She was much too focused on other matters.

“Well, in any case, take care,” Dike waved and ran off to go meet with Eleos. Nemesis waved back.

Another year and a half passed. She had graduated high school and moved on to university where she hoped to study mechanical engineering. Mac Enchies was pursuing a similar position, only with computer science as his major. Both were busy, yet still found time to meet and communicate every night when she went out on her patrols as ‘Angry Goose’, or whatever it was the public had been calling her next (she still preferred Angry Goose, for the record).

There had been reports the past few days of items being stolen from the local museum. No security harmed, so Nemesis figured she could at least rule out Don Treble’s gang. But whoever it was, they were sure to strike again that night as there was a precious emerald that was being featured at the museum. Out of all the artifacts to be stolen, she was sure that would appeal to any thief with taste.

“I didn’t have any luck finding this thief the night before,” Nemesis told Mac as she had opened up communications with him. “But how much do you wanna bet that our little thief will show up tonight too?”

Mac’s melodramatic groan was heard before any words came out of his mouth.

“I’m a broke ass college student. I don’t got money to bet. I’m still living with my mom.”

“Oh hey, me too. I’m saving up, though. I’m sure in about a year, I’ll be able to find an apartment. Maybe I can find make a career out of this whole vigilante thing.”

“Really, now? What happened to doing this for the sake of helping others?” Mac mocked.

“Right. I wasn’t serious about the career thing.”

“Well, speaking of serious, I met this guy at the gym,” Mac mentioned.

“You’re going to the gym now?”

“Of course. Where else am I gonna meet buff guys at?”

“Got me there. I wouldn’t know the first thing about meeting guys. Unless they’re guys who are up to no good. So tell me about him, assuming I’m not wasting time when this thief could have gotten away already.”

“Well, his name’s Raclette, and he’s got a hairy chest that he likes to show off whenever he bench presses. I’ve been his spotter, so maybe I’ve got a chance. What do you think?”

“Dude. You’ve got all the chances,” Nemesis encouraged him while she soared through the air.

“Is that a good thing or bad thing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know the first thing about trying to date someone. I was just trying to cheer you on.”

“You didn’t fancy anyone back in high school?”

She arrived on the rooftop of the museum.

“I’m afraid not,” she answered, “and sorry, Mac. I’m about to go in. I’ve gotta take a stealthy approach if I’ve got any chance of catching this thief in the act.”

“Right. Like that’s worked so well for you in the past,” he scoffed.

She ended the transmission. A little bit of encouragement from you wouldn’t hurt, you know, she thought.

Inside the museum, she clung to the shadows while observing her surroundings. There were displays of dinosaur bones, as well as ancient artifacts of various cultures in glass cases. Necklaces, brooches, bracelets, those sorts of things. None of them interested her, as she was sure that none of them were of interest to this thief.

If she were to go after anything, it wouldn’t be something priceless. It’s gotta be that emerald, Nemesis thought. She also thought she knew thieves pretty well at this point. They were always after something of value, whether monetary, or valuable to them. With Maple Man, he had an unhealthy addiction to maple syrup to the point where he wanted to suck off all the syrup reserves and coat himself in maple syrup.

Up a flight of stairs was the glass case where the emerald sat. She saw it resting in its case, untouched. Above, security circled the area and there were thin, red lasers surrounding the case. If one were to touch it, the alarms on the whole building would go off.

What will you do, thief? She wondered as she tried to look for a way to get up the steps without alerting the security guards, herself.

Above, she noticed rafters, also covered by shadow. She backtracked, then once she was out of the guards’ line of sight, soared up and landed gently on the rafters. There, she tiptoed between each one until she was close enough to the glass case below her. She crouched and waited. If this thief had managed to steal from the museum the past couple of nights, they must have planned out how to evade such things.

For the first few minutes that she waited, nothing happened. Some of the guards chatted among themselves, but nothing of note to the point that she drowned their conversations out. Then, the lasers below deactivated. All four guards turned and flinched upon seeing their protective measure disappear. Nemesis wanted to gasp, but held back from doing so.

Darts shot down at the guards and they all fell to the ground. Nemesis looked up but couldn’t see anything from how dark it was above her. She thought for a moment that she heard movement and fear washed over her.

Does this thief know that I’m here? She wondered.

She soon got her answer as someone dived down wearing a raccoon mask and an animal eared headband. The thief had on what at first looked like brown and black latex, until Nemesis noticed that it was some kind of reinforced armor. This raccoon thief happened to also have a big, bushy tail. I’m still pretty sure this thief is human and not a raccoon. It’s probably a fake tail, she deduced.

The raccoon thief clung onto the glass case and began clawing at it with large, metallic claws. Cracks formed on the case and the claws managed to puncture through the glass. Upon noticing this, the thief rolled onto the floor and took the case along with them. One the case touched the floor, they set it down and rolled back over toward the emerald. As the thief reached over to grab the emerald…

Nemesis emerged from the shadows and reached her arm out to block the raccoon thief from taking the emerald. The blade above her wrist had sprung out as a further deterrent.

“So you’ve finally shown up,” the thief spoke with a smile and a husky, sultry voice.

“And who do I have the honor of stopping tonight?” Nemesis asked.

“Trash Panda. Or if it so pleases you, Raccoon Woman,” she introduced herself as she did a high flip into the air, then rolled away as soon as she landed.

“I don’t think women are trash, so Raccoon Woman it is,” Nemesis said and tried to chase Raccoon Woman as she rolled around the room. Every time Nemesis would try to dive in and catch Raccoon Woman, the thief would roll out of the way. Raccoon Woman sprinted back toward the emerald on her tiptoes. Nemesis ran back and tripped Raccoon Woman.

When Raccoon Woman sprung up, she leaned in close and looked up at Nemesis in her armor.

“You know, now that I get a good look at you…” Raccoon Woman stroked her chin, “you’re rather handsome. I bet you must be quite the man underneath that armor of yours.”

“Excuse me? I’m not a man,” Nemesis corrected.

“Heh. So you’re a handsome woman,” Raccoon Woman shrugged, “works for me.”

“Ugh,” Nemesis put her palm over her helmet and shook her head, “just leave and spare us both the embarrassment.”

“Sorry, Goose Woman, no can do. Not until I get that emerald,” Raccoon Woman grabbed onto Nemesis’ arm and flung herself up, doing a handstand on top of Nemesis’s helmet, then flipping up into the air and diving down where the emerald was. She grabbed it before Nemesis could turn and stop her, and this time, Raccoon Woman rolled out of the way with the emerald firm in her grasp.

“Hey! Put that back!” Nemesis shouted.

“Make me, hun!” Raccoon Woman stuck her tongue out and mocked.

Raccoon Woman dashed toward the exit door. In desperation, Nemesis combined her blades into a spear and threw it at the wall next to Raccoon Woman. Stunned, Raccoon Woman turned to see the double-bladed spear.

“Oh my,” she put her hand over her mouth.

“That could have been your head,” Nemesis warned, “I’m not about to hurt you, but I can’t let you get away. Stealing is wrong.”

“Indeed. Just like you stole my heart when I first heard about you,” she teased.

“If I ever did that, I will gladly give it back to you. I never meant to take it in the first place,” Nemesis said as she dashed forward and grabbed her spear. She swung it forward, only for Raccoon Woman to leap over it.

Nemesis pivoted and did a handstand, followed by a kick to knock Raccoon Woman down. This time, she fell onto the floor. When Nemesis walked over to grab the emerald from Raccoon Woman’s grasp, the thief rolled away once again.

“Sorry, hun. I’m a lover, not a fighter,” she said while pocketing the emerald.

“Well, I’m both, so square up!” Nemesis took up her stance, one arm and leg forward, hand balled into a fist. Raccoon Woman nodded and sprinted toward Nemesis, flailing her claws about the whole way over. Nemesis managed to block each of the movements with the claws, even with the rapid movements they made.

“You are, are you? Who do you love?” Raccoon Woman smirked while still swiping away.

“Well...my family, and my friend. I’ve got people!” Nemesis answered, floored by the question.

“Good. Make sure to treasure those people,” Raccoon Woman said and continued to swipe at Nemesis.

Nemesis grabbed onto Raccoon Woman’s arm in the midst of her swipes and tried to grab the emerald out of Raccoon Woman’s pocket while she had the chance. Before she could reach in, Raccoon Woman swiped Nemesis’s metallic arm away.

“Sorry, hun. I don’t let people get into my pants on the first date,” she teased.

“I’m not…! You…! Argh!” Frustration grew and in another desperate move to knock Raccoon Woman down and subdue her, she swung her spear forward. This time, Raccoon Woman caught the middle of the spear and raised herself up above it in another handstand, then spun into the air and dropkicked Nemesis against her helmet.

Nemesis fell onto her back. At the same time, Raccoon Woman did a backflip and rolled away into the darkness. Raccoon Woman clawed her way up the wall, then disappeared into the darkness. When Nemesis picked herself up, she soared above to try to find the thief and even took to the rooftop outside the museum, but the thieving Raccoon Woman was nowhere to be found.

[theshadowsanctum]

Action figures meant to promote the movie

[nifolution]

Forgive Me 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers / Mutant! Reader

Summary: Steve desperately wants to make everything better, but is it too little, too late?

Warnings: Angst, smut, heartbreak, jealousy, hostage situation, some fluff

A/N: This is a sequel to Dirty Secret. This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is still written in 1st & 3rd person. 18+ only due to smut. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Dirty Secret Masterlist Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

[2 months later]

Here we go again. Seeing the familiar figure quickly duck into the alley, Bucky can only shake his head as he leaves the restaurant with his order. Every time he left the compound, Steve tried to follow him, hoping he was on his way to meet Y/N.

After securing his meal to his motorcycle, Bucky called out to Steve, “You have to stop doing this, you're not good at it.” Steve appeared out of the shadows looking weary and dejected. It was clear he hadn't been taking care of himself. His clothes wrinkled, his beard untrimmed. Bucky turned to face him, “Besides that, it's pointless. Y/N isn't even in the country anymore.”

“So you do know where she is.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, “Steve…”

The blonde suddenly found his shoes fascinating. “I need her back, Buck… I can’t believe I screwed up so badly, losing her the way I did. It still feels like a bad dream. I wish to god it was. She belongs in my arms and I don’t think I'll ever know what possessed me to push her out of them.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself for that one. You dug your own grave and packed the dirt on too.” Bucky seated himself on his bike. “She deserved more than what you gave her. It shouldn't have taken losing her for you to get over your Carter obsession.”

Steve could only nod, giving his friend a broken look. “I'll see you at home.” He turned and started back the way he came.

Bucky wasn’t sure what else to say to his friend. Things were still tense between them. Both for how Steve treated Y/N, and for shutting him out the way he did. The punk got stuck in his own head and refused help. His stubbornness was always his downfall. If he would have just talked to him, maybe he could have gotten through his thick skull earlier, before Steve destroyed everything.

Y/N’s absence was felt heavily among the team. They all missed her. Not just her getaway skills, but her friendship. She was always kind to everyone, always willing to be there, helping anyway she could. She cared for all of them and that love was missed. None of the others knew the real reason for her sudden departure. It was a hard secret to keep, but Bucky continued at her request. She didn't want any of them to look at Steve differently. After everything he put her through, she still wanted what was best for Steve. And Steve, well Steve thought Y/N was what was best for him. If only he pulled his head out of his ass sooner.

Still, Bucky couldn't help pitying his friend. He hated seeing Steve hurting so badly, but it was the punk’s own dumb actions that caused this mess. Steve was his brother, but he fucked up. Maybe some pain was due. Steve had been sullen and isolating himself since Y/N left. He hasn’t spent much time training or with the team. Bucky knows he wasn’t sleeping well because he can hear him crying most nights. He wasn’t going to bring it up though, Steve has been blowing up over small things lately. He didn’t want to tip him over that edge of grief he was precariously balanced on.

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

The weeks passing did nothing to dampen the all consuming regret Steve felt. Forgoing his morning runs, he would just lay there staring at the ceiling. Tired and drained. If anyone on the team noticed, no one said anything. He was grateful for that much. Steve was certain he’d spill the whole thing with the smallest provocation. He preferred to keep his anguish to himself. His bed felt so cold without her in it. His whole life felt cold now. As he did so many times before, Steve pulled out a yellow garment from inside his pillowcase. It was the dress Y/N left behind. Blood stains now accompanying the grass ones from Steve kissing it after Bucky beat his face in. Steve held tightly to the fabric, imagining Y/N in his arms, her lips on his, willing his heart to stop beating so it would stop hurting.

He thinks of the last time he saw her. How stunning she looked, outshining everyone at the gala. But she was on Bucky's arm, not his as she should have been. Steve wishes he would have ran up to her like he wanted to. He would have swept her off her feet, kissed her breathless and danced the night away. Instead he forced himself to pay attention to Sharon, feeling a misplaced responsibility to her. That night played on repeat in his mind. He should have done so many things. He fucked up so bad.

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

Steve had been looking for Y/N since she left. Four months later and still no lock on her. She was like a ghost. Steve would constantly beg Bucky to tell him where she was. He had yet to budge. Only confirming that she was doing okay. Bucky was torn between friends. Him and Steve were getting back to a good place in the friendship. He wanted to help, but didn’t want to break Y/N’s confidence. Although his resolve on the matter was slowly chipping away.

When Steve loved he loved hard, and permanently. Bucky could only do so much to comfort his friend. He still had trouble understanding why Steve gave into Sharon. Why even for a moment he thought he was doing the right thing. But his friend was stubborn, and dumb enough to think he could have both. That Y/N would always be there. Steve lost someone special chasing after someone he thought he once wanted. So trapped in his nostalgia to not realize what he had until it was gone. At least he saw now that he had been taking her for granted. Should have appreciated what he had enough to not betray her the way he did. However unintentional he claimed it was. Y/N didn't deserve that pain.

Bucky remained close with Y/N. She seemed better each time he talked with her. She'd been traveling the world, site seeing. Her abilities saved her a fortune in transportation and entrance fees. Hotel rooms and meals too. She'd been staying at the best hotels for free. Orbing into empty rooms and raiding the well stocked mini bars. Bucky’s stayed with her a few times. Both willing to overlook the moral ambiguity of their actions.

“Please Buck, I need to find her.”

“You can't fix everything, Steve. She doesn’t want to be found. You're bullheaded, but you must realize that by now.” Bucky was tired of having this same conversation again and again. Steve wasn’t going to give up.

“I have to try. Even if there is just the slimmest chance, I have to try.”

Bucky gave in. Walking over to the map on the wall and pointing to her last known location. The rest was up to Steve.

Steve practically jumped out of his chair. “Thank you Bucky… I promise I’m going to get my girl back.”

Within hours he arrived at his destination. It saddened him that she went to Paris alone. They were supposed to go together. He searched for her high and low, but was too late, only catching a glimpse of her. He blinked and she was gone. She moved too fast.

Steve returned to the compound, heartbroken. It wasn’t yet 3am, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. So he decided to go for a run. He kept running till the sun came up. After passing out in bed from exhaustion, Steve awoke prepared to try to move forward. He resumed his regular routine, running on autopilot, just trying to get by. In the day he could almost convince himself he was healed. Nighttime was another story entirely. The pain bloomed anew each time he lay in his lonely and vacant bed. He'd close his eyes, knowing too well it was his own damn fault.

Chapter 2

[ticklishbeans4]

What do you like about each of the BATTS/Raine's adopted kids? Do you have a favorite?

Ok is this the BATTS or Raines adopted kids? I'm gonna answer for the latter, cause they have more adopted kids than just the three!

And it's gonna get long so I'll put it under the cut!

Amber: Sweet baby girl. I love and adore her. She strikes me as the kind of person who acts mean at first because she's been hurt in the past (likely by her parents), but she also gets attached quickly when shown the slightest amount of affection from a potential parental figure. Hence her reaction to Eda (from "I don't think she'd be a good fit" to "BYE MAMA EDA!")

Katya: My giiiiirl! You write your fanfics baby I love you!! I'm so glad she came back to be a more important part of the story! I loved her in the first episode, so seeing her again as part of the BATTS was so awesome! She deserves to write about food and food being in love! While toppling the empire!

Derwin: The lad! I love his design, and his little two handed wave when he met Luz was so sweet! He strikes me as the strong but silent type, preferring actions over words. But he's still a silly goofy guy! He's just quiet about it! And this it total headcanon, but I imagine he had a bit of a rough life that lead him to his quiet disposition, likely bullying and mistreatment from his school mates or those who thought the Bard Coven was dumb. But he's a fighter, he's sweet, and he loves his found family with all his heart!

Luz: Sweet baby girl I love her so much pls Dana let her be happy!!! I love Luz as a character, the way she's grown, the way she interacts with the world around her, the way she accepted the boiling isles and all it's wild magical danger, and still changed it so much! She made friends, which lead to the entire day of unity being taken down. She reunited Eda and Lilith which lead to Belos's reign (I didn't say all the changes were good). She started dating Amity which lead to her gf's parents divorce! :D She's just such a strong, loving, caring, crafty, creative, amazing character. I love her endlessly!

King: He is baby. Pls protecc him. He's just a little guy!! He's been going through so much pls Dana! Now, King wasn't my favorite character when I first saw him. I thought he was cute, and endearing in an annoying younger sibling way. But he's grown so much, and he's such a caring kid. He wanted to be a king, but he became so much more. I love his brief friendship with Steve, and I wish they could have explored it more. I love his relationships with his family, and I really hope he and the others reunite soon.

And this one isn't exactly supported by canon yet, but I'm counting it.

Hunter: SWEET SON BOY LOVE OF MY LIFE BAD BUT SAD BOY I LOVE YOOOOOU! Ahem. Yes. Anyways. I adore Hunters character. He went from an intimidating presence in the shadows, to an awkward, shy, but caring lad just wanting a chance to find himself amidst all the chaos in his life. He deserves the world, and I'm gonna give it to him. In my own way. He's so expressive, and fun, and I love how he still trys to be intimidating, but he just can't pull it off like he used to.

SO! In terms of favorites...

Favorite of the BATSS: A tie between Derwin and Amber. Idk I just love them. Though it might be my headcanons talking.

Favorite adopted kid: Hunter, cause I love my son boy.

I hope this answered your question! :D

~

Words written: 129!

[myopinionhi]

A Will Solace Character Analysis: the Underappreciated Soft Side

I've noticed many fanfictions have Will Solace OOC. So I’ve been thinking about aspects of Will’s personality fans seem to either gloss over or exaggerate. Here, this post is me doing an in-depth analysis explaining Will Solace’s canon personality in the books, and how it can sometimes differ from fanfictions. Sprinkled in this analysis are tips to fanfiction writers on how they write Will as more in-character.

There is one major aspect of Will that people seem to ignore or underemphasize. Nico best explains it when describing Will in this quote

Jason was a fighter. You could tell from the intensity of his stare, his constant alertness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched out in sunshine. His movements were relaxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt, his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked about as aggressive as a demigod could get, but Nico knew he was brave under fire. During the Battle of Manhattan, Nico had seen him in action - the camp's best combat medic, risking his life to save wounded campers.

To sum it up, Will Solace is a very chill and calm character. A lot of writers make Will more irrational, impulsive, overbearing, and emotional than he actually is. Will is not the type of character to create drama unless he's, as Nico puts it, "under fire." In other words, the intense side of his personality doesn't come out unless the situation is urgent or dire.

Fans remember during the Second Giant War how he gets angry and argues with Nico over Nico's health and shadow-traveling, so many assume Will is going to be this fiery over a lot of other things regarding their relationship. For example, fanfic writers may make Will controlling or overly sensitive with Nico. However, keep in mind, Will gets heated with Nico during the Second Giant War because Nico's shadow-traveling is killing him. This is how Will describes Nico's dire state.

"Coach Hedge told me all about your shadow-travel. You can’t try that again."

"I just did try it again, Solace. I’m fine."

"No, you’re not. I’m a healer. I could feel the darkness in your hand as soon as I touched it. Even if you made it to that tent, you’d be in no shape to fight. But you wouldn’t make it. One more slip, and you won’t come back. You are not shadow-travelling. Doctor’s orders."

Will is a healer. When he touches Nico's hand, he can sense how little sleep and food Nico has been getting and how Nico's being taken over by darkness. Nico is on the verge of death and hasn't cared about his health for a long time. Nico is also stubborn about it, so Will has to be aggressive in order to save Nico's life. This aggressive behavior is not the norm for Will, but it can sometimes come out when he has to assert control in a life-or-death situation.

Will is a calming prescence. He's a diplomat. He stops violence on multiple occassions.

He's one of the few people who's able to calm Clarisse's violent rage, and he does so in a gentle manner.

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. "What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!"

Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair. "That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it –"

"She’s right." Will Solace, head counsellor for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on Clarisse’s wrist. Not many campers could’ve done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people’s anger. He got her to lower her dagger. "Everyone in our cabin has been affected. It’s not just Rachel."

One of the most underrated Will Solace moments is when he stops a bloody battle from happening between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter.  

But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. After weeks of waiting, agonizing and steaming, the Greeks and Romans wanted blood. Trying to stop the battle now would be like trying to push back a flood after the dam broke.

Will Solace saved the day.

He put his fingers in his mouth and did a taxicab whistle even more horrible than the last. Several Greeks dropped their swords. A ripple went through the Roman line like the entire First Cohort was shuddering.

"DON’T BE STUPID!" Will yelled. "LOOK!"

People are so used to seeing demigods, especially male demigods, being aggressive fighters that they can't wrap their heads around a brave and strong demigod who actively tries to avoid unnecessary conflict and destruction as much as he can.

And that's Will Solace's strength: he has the ability to prevent as much harm as possible.

Will is a difficult character to write. There's a lot of dueling factors with his personality. He's calm and pacifying while also being brave and assertive. He's fun and lighthearted while also being intelligent, logical, and grounded. He's laidback while also being responsible and hardworking. He's insecure but not melodramatic. He's very caring and protective but not pushy.

Will's personality confuses Nico sometimes too.

He’d always thought of Will as easygoing and laid back. Apparently he could also be stubborn and aggravating.

The trick to writing Will is to keep in mind his default personality is a soft and lighthearted character. Writers tend to overemphasize the hard side of his personality when his default personality is actually the soft side.

Think of the relaxing, lanky cat metaphor Nico uses for him. He and Nico bicker often, and it works for Will because he rolls with everything and doesn't take things too seriously. He's able to alleviate Nico's moodiness with humor, wittiness, groundedness, and patience. Nico affectionately calls Will a "dork" because Will usually keeps things light. Interestingly enough, he's able to be lighthearted without coming across as insensitive or an airheaded goofball, the latter of which is something Nico dislikes about Percy's personality. On a related sidenote, another way writers make Will OOC is they make him too dumb or too immature. I know I mentioned to focus on Will's soft side, but be careful to avoid that too. He's a SENSIBLE, lanky cat.

The way Will keeps his composure during a stressful situation by using laughter while still being mature is expressed well in this exchange with Apollo. (Yes, Will has a lot to manage.)

It was difficult to think of this young man as my son. He was so poised, so unassuming, so free of acne. He also didn’t appear to be awestruck in my presence. In fact, the corner of his mouth had started twitching.

“Are—are you amused?” I demanded.

Will shrugged. “Well, it’s either find this funny or freak out. My dad, the god Apollo, is a fifteen-year-old—”

“Sixteen,” I corrected. “Let’s go with sixteen.”

“A sixteen-year-old mortal, lying in a cot in my cabin, and with all my healing arts—which I got from you—I still can’t figure out how to fix you.”

“There is no fixing this,” I said miserably. “I am cast out of Olympus. My fate is tied to a girl named Meg. It could not be worse!”

Will laughed, which I thought took a great deal of gall. “Meg seems cool. She’s already poked Connor Stoll in the eyes and kicked Sherman Yang in the crotch.”

The fiercer side of Will's personality comes out only when the situation calls for it; this happens sometimes when he has to be a caring family member, a responsible healer, or a warrior in a dire situation. Even when he gets more forceful, he doesn't get more forceful than he has to.

Since Will has such a balanced and lighthearted personality, what are his flaws? What are the dark sides of his personality? There are four main things that stick out.

1. He's insecure about his self-perceived lack of abilities.

"I agree," Will said. "I wish I was a better archer … I wouldn’t mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war." He looked down at his own hands with distaste. "Unfortunately, I’m just a healer."

2. He sometimes struggles to endure the heavy responsibilities he has as a healer and as a protector to his family.

“I got it reattached,” Will told me, his voice shaky with exhaustion. His scrubs were speckled with blood. “I need somebody to keep him stable.”

I pointed to the woods. “But—”

“I know!” Will snapped. “Don’t you think I want to be out there searching too? We’re shorthanded for healers. There’s some salve and nectar in that pack. Go!”

I was stunned by his tone. I realized he was just as concerned about Kayla and Austin as I was. The only difference: Will knew his duty. He had to heal the injured first. And he needed my help.

3. He forces himself to bottle his emotions to keep his composure.

Will laughed under his breath. “I’m terrified. But one thing you learn as head counselor: you have to keep it together for everyone else. Let’s get you on your feet."

Here's a second example.

I rested my hand on Will’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back by dawn.”

His mouth trembled ever so slightly. “How can you be sure?”

4. He constantly worries about his loved ones.

Nico rested his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Apollo, we were worried. Will was especially.”

In conclusion, Will Solace's personality is difficult to get correct. But don't worry, if you write Will as a laidback, witty cat in your fanfics, I guarantee he'll be more in-character than many other fanfics with Will Solace.

(Note: I am only human. If you believe I'm misinterpreting some aspects of Will's personality, feel free to express it. What I say isn't 100 percent the right interpretation.)

[theodora3022]

Selfish Deeds (Yandere! Gojou Satoru)

Summary: Satoru just wants you to be free of danger. If you are so knowledgeable why can’t you understand that he only wish the best for you?

A/N: This is just one snippet of many out of a collection(haven't decide the name just yet)...Since I have not read the manga(anime-only for now) so I just got a vague impression of what Gojou has been through, but that does not stop me from writing him like the cocky bastard he is. Hopefully it is not too OOC(as if yandere variant itself is not OOC enough pfttt) The reader is a stubborn psycho because that is what I am :) Will there be some future pieces that involves nsfw elements? I got a few ideas but no promises.

I blame @popi-the-fatui for my Gojou brainrots. You got your revenge on me by making me attracted to this dubious man. Word count: 1.6k

Banner credit

Warnings: Female pronouns, Possessive behaviour, DELUSIONAL behaviour, non-consensual touching, power inbalance, general yandere content, slight mention of confinement and violence(This is not a healthy relationship dynamic!!!), reader is not a soft UWU girl, kthis is so self indulgent *buries myself into the bottomless pit of shame

It has been nearly fifteen minutes since the headquarter disconnected the call, yet you are still staring at your phone screen with disbelief.

You were supposed to travel to another city for a mission tomorrow, they had notified you of this mission a week ago.

You already got your luggage packed, and your theoretical research on the objective is thoroughly done. Then they dare to inform you: they have found a more suitable candidate! Right on the day before your departure too.

Your curse techniques have already limited you to more of a supporting role for most situations. There are not plenty of missions available for you to begin with. While you are content with educating the fresh blood of the community in classrooms the majority of the time, you still long for field actions every once in a while. It is an essential part of being a Jujutsu sorcerer after all.

Both you and the soft-spoken secretary who made the call know this is nonsense. The higher-ups recognize that you are one of, if not the best sorcerers available when it comes to reconnaissance and espionage.

Letting out a sigh of immeasurable frustration, you swore to yourself that you will find out who is the conductor of this humiliating turn of events. This is going to be difficult since you do not recall having any issues with any of the administration staff recently.

There is no reversing this misfortune, but at least you can be aware of who is responsible for such violation of conduct.

He is only doing this to protect you.

Gojou Satoru tells himself as such, at least.

He is aware of how unfair it is, to make someone less capable to take on the job. But he cannot risk your safety. The man has already got used to your company, and he is not willing to just let you disappear from his field of view for more than a week. Sure, you might have not admitted how much you like him yet, but it is just too endearing to see you flustered at his flirtatious words.

Although there have been some difficulties with rescheduling, he managed to use his connections to exclude you from that first-grade mission at last minute. On the bright side, the sorcerer cannot wait to lend you an ear to vent about how conservative and unfair the higher-ups can be. Maybe you will even say yes to a trip to the newest local bakery! You need some sweet treats to cheer yourself up, don’t you?

But Satoru has never thought about how you specialize in putting two and two together. (understandable since he never saw you in action before).

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

Strange, you are not near the usual area in the library.

Sensing his footsteps, you opened your office door before Satoru had a chance to knock.

“We need to talk, Gojou-san.” That expression is new. This is the first time he sees you genuinely angry, which is to be expected.

But somehow he got a bad feeling about this.

You did not even invite him to sit down, instead just standing next to the floor window, arm crossed, with your back turned to him.

“Why would you do such a thing?” You have to use up all of your self-control to prevent yourself from having a full blow-up right at Gojou Satoru. Maintain composure. But it is easier said then done.

Does he think this is funny? To sabotage someone else's sorcerer career like this? You knew you should have kept him out of your daily life, as he is nothing but trouble to you. But you made the mistake of choosing to tolerate him, and some superficial part of you might even enjoy his dallying words a bit too much.

To the extent, you overlooked some red flags. This is a grievous error indeed.

Shit, now that he vaguely remembers what role you play on missions.“(y/n)-chan, what are you saying-” He knows you always act in supporting positions, however, he has overlooked your actual abilities and curse techniques. You collect intel and spy on enemies, how could he forget that? “Don’t play dumb with me. You got your ways, I got mine. There is no use denying what you have done. I thought you out of all people would understand what it means to be a sorcerer.”

This is a violation of protocol, changing mission assignments at the last minute. However, you know this man would not be receiving any solid punishment should you decide to report this. They would say there is “no harm done” and you would just receive a pitiful apology. Suppose you cannot blame them though.

They need Gojou Satoru, the Jujutsu community needs his prowess to keep innocent people safe. He will remain in the system no matter what.

Why are you questioning his motives? Does he have to spell it out for you? Letter by letter?

“You are not a skilled combatant, (y/n)-chan. What if you got yourself hurt?” Or even worse, killed. It scares him to think that you could be gone one day, how he would walk by this office corridor and never sees you sitting behind the desk ever again.

Not much in this world could send Gojou Satoru a chill down his spine, yet the thought of you dying is now on the list. He knows how petty this is, you wouldn’t be the one doing the actual exorcising after all. But the if, the slight possibilty.

He cannot allow that to happen, not ever. Even that means angering you and getting yelled at.

“What am I, some normal lawful citizen? I am a sorcerer just like you, Gojou-san. Putting ourselves on the line for innocents is part of the deal.” You let out a few short, sarcastic giggles, narrowing your eyes at him with fury. “It’s funny that you, out of all people, fail to understand that. If I am needed I will do what I must. If this is some sort of sick joke, stop it already, not funny. ”

Blunt, unrelenting stubbornness. Not like that’s news for him, Satoru has lots of experience with that since the day your path crossed. Although he finds this quality to be adorable most of the time, it can pose major problems like the present.

Oh, he is not angry at you. Satoru is more outraged at himself, don’t you worry. On the contrary, he is rather intrigued by your sarcastic remarks! However…

Instead of walking towards where you stood near the window, the man decides to take a turn towards the door.

That flashing panic within your eyes did not escape his sight.

The illusion figure you were projecting near the window dissipated instantly once he got your left wrist in his hand. Concealing yourself and projecting illusions, a rare techique indeed.

“Clever tactic. Making yourself invisible, projecting a faux illusion to distract me, leaving the door open and staying close to the exit. Your curse techniques are impressive. I almost got fooled, job well-done (y/n)-chan.”

The grip on your wrist suddenly tightens, you have to bite your lip to hold back a hiss of pain. How can he still flash that casual, playful smile when committing such atrocity? Those damned cerulean blue eyes too, you are ashamed of how you tremble and (internally) swoon at it at the same time.

Efforts to get away would most likely be futile, but you have to try. “See, you underestimated your opponent. I do see why you are good with lurking in the shadows now. Do you have any idea what I am capable of though?” Such delicate hands, it would be a shame if they were to bruise.

It’s unnerving how easy it looks for him to maintain a solid grip on your wrist while you pull back with all of your might. You know Gojou Satoru is strong and all, but this simple demonstration of strength is devastatingly effective. “Let go of me, you bastard!”

To your surprise, he softens his grip and you finally distanced yourself from him, panting and guarded. “Who are you to decide what I should and what I should not do? I made it crystal clear on the first day that I do not like you for the slightest.”

You know the walls are thin and coworkers might heard you, but you will have to worry about it later. It is, sadly, a matter of fact that you are somehow attracted to him, but that does not give him the right to use it against you. You must not give in to the temptation.

“You are pretty slow on the uptake for someone so smart. I was thinking of doing this naturally, we can go on normal dates to coffee shops, amusement parks, or even the museum if that is what you wish for. But now I see you do not know how much you mean to me.” Do you think Gojou-san is only flirting with you for the fun of it? It might have been the case in the beginning, but that is not the case since...recently.

He did not stop you again when you turned away, giving him one last menacing look and disappeared from his sight, even if he could see the faint trace of your curse energy. You will return to him and apologize after you calm down, he is confident about that. You value your job way too much to quit.

Then he could finally pull you into his arms, saying he does not mind and forgive your childish tantrums. Satoru does not plan to lock you up in a cage or anything(yet)! The students adore you and they need your guidance. Your clan is insignificant compared to his, your influence? Does he even need to consider that?

Gojou Satoru would always achieve his goals by whatever means possible. You are no exception to this.

[inwhichiramble]

Why Gabriel Agreste Should Have His Kneecaps Stolen

Good grief this dude ~Has *repeatedly* said he wants to rule the world ((in addition to his wish to resurrect Emilie; in fact, it was the first thing he ever said he wanted (Origins) and I really don’t think it was a red herring considering the actions that followed)) ~tried to pawn Ladybug's earrings AND Chat’s ring AS GABRIEL. How did he think that would go??? ~Uses as many as, if not more puns than his son (but they’re much worse) ~Akumatized himself?? Bro is dumb but not an idiot ~BATTED HIS SON OUT OF THE AIR LIKE SOME KIND OF DESPICABLE BABE RUTH WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ~Does not like being around people (fair) ~Thought that he could make an akumatized baby work ~Knows very well that LB and CN are teens but he's very determined to obliterate them so that's fun ~Wanted to start WORLD WAR 3?? Like come on dude what on earth were you thinking??? ~When he thought Adrien was Chat Noir his response was to DROP HIS SON OFF A BUILDING ~Is extremely abusive like dude honestly ~Isolates and neglects his son for his whole life and then is like "kids should be able to do whatever and yadda yadda yadda" ~The only times he allows Adrien to do something he always has an ulterior motive and it's almost never in Adrien's best interest. Several time Nathalie has to remind him that he has a son.  ~Canonically threw a mini temper tantrum when Gigantitan completely ignored him (that was hilarious though) ~Has been saved by LB and CN TWICE as Gabriel, and was literally shown mercy as Hawkmoth despite being their mortal enemy and still did not care ~Has used the pun "revenge is a dish best served cold" at least THREE TIMES. Dude, plz think of something new ~This boi really said "feel the burn" ~Okay but how many times does he go in and out of his lair? I feel like people would start to notice his window opening and closing all the time lol. ~Gabe really backfired with his "let's akumatize a robot" plan, like that was an all time low ~Hawkmoth knows that akumatizing Marienette would be just about the smartest thing he could do as a villain. Obviously he doesn't know the biggest reason that this will work in his favor, but he knows that she would make a very strong supervillain. I'm very worried about this as A) he's right and B) it's probably foreshadowing ~Was about to let Feast eat every single miraculous known to France if he succeeded?? I mean, dude has nerve. ~HE HAS AN AGREEMENT WITH KAGAMI'S MOTHER??? WHAT IS THIS ABOUT??????? ~PRIORITIZES BEING HAWKMOTH OVER BEING A DECENT FATHER AND HUMAN BEING ~Like he says "this is so Adrien can be happy" and blah blah blah but doesn't even tell his son or ask him what he thinks or anything UGH ~Has literally no qualms about any destruction that might be caused by his or his akumas' actions. "no matter the cost" he says ~AS OF THE NEW YORK SPECIAL HE HAS AKUMATIZED MR. RAMIER FIFTY-ONE TIMES ~FIFTY-ONE TIMES ~Honestly dude give the guy a break, how desperate are you??? ~side note was the secret basement and akuma headquarters always in the Agreste Mansion or did he have them installed? How were the builders not suspicious? Who decorated these places? How does he cover up however he got all his butterflies? ~THIS MAN IS LITERALLY STUNTING THE GROWTH OF EVERYONE IN PARIS BECAUSE THEY DON'T LEARN HOW TO DEAL WITH THEIR EMOTIONS Obviously the game is changing as people are more used to akumas and LB's lucky charms are going into circulation, but some people aren't strong enough to fight off akumas! Only THREE PEOPLE have done it (Chloe, Alya, and Nino). Mr. Ramier was akumatized SEVENTY-TWO times and what do you think he learned from that??? NOTHING THAT'S WHAT. Because rather than having the ability to work out their emotions and deal with them accordingly, Parisians get akumatized and then forget everything that happened. They are very emotionally unstable, and we can very clearly see why! And them being weakened works in Hawky's favor. It's disgusting and I really hope everyone in Paris gets therapy or something. ~He flung a random teenager (Fei) by the arm through a waterfall and into a very deep well like some kind of despicable frisbee ~More evidence that he quite literally does not care about his son's needs if they get in the way of his villainism. The only time during Shanghai that he is concerned about Adrien is when the monster HE CREATED is about to destroy the whole city ~Since when has he called Marinette by her full name and HOW ON EARTH DOES HE NOT KNOW SHE'S LADYBUG ~Maybe he'll figure it out now, idk ~Also whatever this Prodigious is it has been made quite clear that Hawkmoth has been in the works long before Gabriel started sending out akumas. I strongly strongly suspect that there's something about Adrien we don't know yet because if this villainism has been in the works for 15 YEARS?? Yeah something is up. And, as has been stated by another fandom member... Mama Agreste might not be as great as we were led to believe. ~Gabe may have diverted his attention from Adrien being Chat but he is definitely, definitely suspicious of Marinette, I'm telling you ~His voice got more evil over time I swear ~Also again he was only worried about Adrien (before his plan backfired severely, AGAIN LOL) and not that the akuma might kill literally thousands of people in Shanghai, haha way to go Gabe ~Yeah sorry Mari but Hawky takes no vacations ~HE WENT AFTER NEW MAGIC AND THEN BECAME SHADOW MOTH?? W H A T ~Kay so apparently Shadowmoth is much smarter than Hawky. At least... more tactical.  And he accepts help from Nathalie. But he still ain't winning lol, even if he's getting closer. ~And even though he was *this close* to getting the turtle miraculous, he was even closer to getting HIS TWO MIRACULOUS STOLEN ~STOP REAKUMATIZING PEOPLE, IT'S NOT GONNA WORK ANYMORE ~On Mr. Pigeon's 24th akumatization Hawky was really like "this man is hopeless" and proceeds to akumatize him 48 more times ~I love how he assumes he's still gonna be Hawkmoth by the time LB  and CN are adults XD like he'd literally be in his 70s ~the fact that he had every single miraculous holder in one place and didn't realize it ~I love how he has no problem letting Alec watch his whole villain spiel ~mans really said that negative emotions turn him on ~the fact that one of his smarter villains was a five year old -_-

[niffala]

Forgive Me (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Steve Rogers / Mutant OFC (Marison)

Summary: Steve desperately wants to make everything better, but is it too little, too late?

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, jealousy, hostage situation, some fluff

A/N: This is a sequel to Dirty Secret. Reader insert version found here. 18+ only due to smut. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Dirty Secret Series Masterlist       Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

[2 months later]

Here we go again. Seeing the familiar figure quickly duck into the alley, Bucky can only shake his head as he leaves the restaurant with his order. Every time he left the compound, Steve tried to follow him, hoping he was on his way to meet Marison. 

After securing his meal to his motorcycle, Bucky called out to Steve, “You have to stop doing this, you're not good at it.” Steve appeared out of the shadows looking weary and dejected. It was clear he hadn't been taking care of himself. His clothes wrinkled, his beard untrimmed. Bucky turned to face him, “Besides that, it's pointless. Marison isn't even in the country anymore.”

“So you do know where she is.” 

Bucky exhaled sharply, “Steve…”

The blonde suddenly found his shoes fascinating. “I need her back, Buck… I can’t believe I screwed up so badly, losing her the way I did. It still feels like a bad dream. I wish to god it was. She belongs in my arms and I don’t think I'll ever know what possessed me to push her out of them.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself for that one. You dug your own grave and packed the dirt on too.” Bucky seated himself on his bike. “She deserved more than what you gave her. It shouldn't have taken losing her for you to get over your Carter obsession.” 

Steve could only nod, giving his friend a broken look. “I'll see you at home.” He turned and started back the way he came. 

Bucky wasn’t sure what else to say to his friend. Things were still tense between them. Both for how Steve treated Marison, and for shutting him out the way he did. The punk got stuck in his own head and refused help. His stubbornness was always his downfall. If he would have just talked to him, maybe he could have gotten through his thick skull earlier, before Steve destroyed everything. 

Marison’s absence was felt heavily among the team. They all missed her. Not just her getaway skills, but her friendship. She was always kind to everyone, always willing to be there, helping anyway she could. She cared for all of them and that love was missed. None of the others knew the real reason for her sudden departure. It was a hard secret to keep, but Bucky continued at her request. She didn't want any of them to look at Steve differently. After everything he put her through, she still wanted what was best for Steve. And Steve, well Steve thought Marison was what was best for him. If only he pulled his head out of his ass sooner.

Still, Bucky couldn't help pitying his friend. He hated seeing Steve hurting so badly, but it was the punk’s own dumb actions that caused this mess. Steve was his brother, but he fucked up. Maybe some pain was due. Steve had been sullen and isolating himself since Marison left. He hasn’t spent much time training or with the team. Bucky knows he wasn’t sleeping well because he can hear him crying most nights. He wasn’t going to bring it up though, Steve has been blowing up over small things lately. He didn’t want to tip him over that edge of grief he was precariously balanced on.

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

The weeks passing did nothing to dampen the all consuming regret Steve felt. Forgoing his morning runs, he would just lay there staring at the ceiling. Tired and drained. If anyone on the team noticed, no one said anything. He was grateful for that much. Steve was certain he’d spill the whole thing with the smallest provocation. He preferred to keep his anguish to himself. His bed felt so cold without her in it. His whole life felt cold now. As he did so many times before, Steve pulled out a yellow garment from inside his pillowcase. It was the dress Marison left behind. Blood stains now accompanying the grass ones from Steve kissing it after Bucky beat his face in. Steve held tightly to the fabric, imagining Marison in his arms, her lips on his, willing his heart to stop beating so it would stop hurting. 

He thinks of the last time he saw her. How stunning she looked, outshining everyone at the gala. But she was on Bucky's arm, not his as she should have been. Steve wishes he would have ran up to her like he wanted to. He would have swept her off her feet, kissed her breathless and danced the night away. Instead he forced himself to pay attention to Sharon, feeling a misplaced responsibility to her. That night played on repeat in his mind. He should have done so many things. He fucked up so bad.

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

Steve had been looking for Marison since she left. Four months later and still no lock on her. She was like a ghost. Steve would constantly beg Bucky to tell him where she was. He had yet to budge. Only confirming that she was doing okay. Bucky was torn between friends. Him and Steve were getting back to a good place in the friendship. He wanted to help, but didn’t want to break Marison’s confidence. Although his resolve on the matter was slowly chipping away.

When Steve loved he loved hard, and permanently. Bucky could only do so much to comfort his friend. He still had trouble understanding why Steve gave into Sharon. Why even for a moment he thought he was doing the right thing. But his friend was stubborn, and dumb enough to think he could have both. That Marison would always be there. Steve lost someone special chasing after someone he thought he once wanted. So trapped in his nostalgia to not realize what he had until it was gone. At least he saw now that he had been taking her for granted. Should have appreciated what he had enough to not betray her the way he did. However unintentional he claimed it was. Marison didn't deserve that pain.

Bucky remained close with Marison. She seemed better each time he talked with her. She'd been traveling the world, site seeing. Her abilities saved her a fortune in transportation and entrance fees. Hotel rooms and meals too. She'd been staying at the best hotels for free. Orbing into empty rooms and raiding the well stocked mini bars. Bucky’s stayed with her a few times. Both willing to overlook the moral ambiguity of their actions.

“Please Buck, I need to find her.”

“You can't fix everything, Steve. She doesn’t want to be found. You're bullheaded, but you must realize that by now.” Bucky was tired of having this same conversation again and again. Steve wasn’t going to give up.

“I have to try. Even if there is just the slimmest chance, I have to try.” 

Bucky gave in. Walking over to the map on the wall and pointing to her last known location. The rest was up to Steve.

Steve practically jumped out of his chair. “Thank you Bucky… I promise I’m going to get my girl back.” 

Within hours he arrived at his destination. It saddened him that she went to Paris alone. They were supposed to go together. He searched for her high and low, but was too late, only catching a glimpse of her. He blinked and she was gone. She moved too fast.

Steve returned to the compound, heartbroken. It wasn’t yet 3am, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. So he decided to go for a run. He kept running till the sun came up. After passing out in bed from exhaustion, Steve awoke prepared to try to move forward. He resumed his regular routine, running on autopilot, just trying to get by. In the day he could almost convince himself he was healed. Nighttime was another story entirely. The pain bloomed anew each time he lay in his lonely and vacant bed. He'd close his eyes, knowing too well it was his own damn fault.

Chapter 2

[lunarreaper-ut]

How exactly did killer loose his arm? Was it cuz he got distracted or was it tactic to prevent something even worse?? ;-; how did nightmate take that sight? How did he get the idea to give killer some of his magic to make an artificial arm for him, did he knew it would work? Was it a hard or painful process for any of them?? (God i love the idea of killer getting a shadow arm from nm >w< makes him even cooler! Kyaaaaa~ still a sad thing tho uwu)

Was nightmare ever in the mood/need/curious to ask killer sing somehing (for him~)??

What ships will happen in kingdomverse??

Alsoo... Uhh dont know if thats an OK question but can they get pregnant? I wanna know if babybones are an possibility in the future? qwq

Ah yes... the Incident.

Allow me to explain the unfortunate event in which Killer almost failed at his job.

(This is gonna be heckin, and I mean HECKIN long. We got some worldbuilding ahead!)

How did Killer lose his arm?

This event happened several years after Killer began his duties as Royal Guard. Dream had already told Nightmare he no longer needed a Royal Guard, and Killer already expressed his wish to stay as one. Nightmare and Killer were frequently having their nightly visits, and things were going well.

One night, however, after Killer had returned to his room and the two had settled in for bed, something happened.

Now I haven't mentioned this before, mainly cause your questions have thankfully not uncovered it >w< During Nightmare's reign, there was much despair in the Kingdom. Negativity brings out the worst in people, as we're all aware I'm sure, and it's no wonder that some people would be driven mad by the results of Nightmare's actions.

Some people began to believe that if they worshipped Nightmare, they would be spared from his wrath and from the destruction his crafted creatures wrought. These people formed a cult dedicated to Nightmare, praising his actions and renouncing their loyalty to the Sun King. They called themselves The Corrupted.

Cults are a very hard thing to get rid of, especially if you weren't aware they existed. When Dream returned and cast Nightmare into the Void, the Corrupted hid themselves in the shadows, vowing to return only once their "True King" returns as well.

The issue arose when Nightmare did return from the Void. Nightmare, throughout his reign, was most often seen as his "transformed" self, and it was that self that The Corrupted worshipped, not Nightmare.

The Corrupted believed that they could bring back the "True King", and to do so they needed to remove the "Imposter King". The cult spent time learning the routines of the castle in order to break in to Nightmare's quarters when they were certain no one was around.

They had acquired a drug meant to incapacitate monsters and suppress their magic, and modified it to be several times as strong. Nightmare certainly wasn't at his strongest either, the Kingdom was a naturally positive place when Dream was around.

A few cult assassins threw a smoke bomb filled with the drug into Nightmare's room while he slept, and unfortunately it worked well enough. Nightmare wasn't unconscious, but he didn't have as fine of control over his magic or his own body.

The assassins came into the room, intending to kidnap Nightmare, but it's rather fortunate that Killer is a light sleeper, isn't it? Killer came into the room just as one of the assassins was about to grab Nightmare.

There was quite a few of them, as they'd been prepared for resistance, and though I hate to say it, they were skilled too. They weren't just some guy picked off the street and given a weapon, it was as if they'd been trained for years just for this moment.

It's likely they had been. Killer was having difficulties, but holding his own well enough. He would only really need to hold them off long enough for the guards to get to the room. Well, that's what he thought until he saw another assassin coming towards a practically immobile Nightmare, and he clearly wasn't intending to just kidnap the King.

Killer moved without thinking, and without his armor he was much more vulnerable to attacks... but getting injured wasn't an issue. He had to protect Nightmare at all costs, even if it meant he got hurt. That was the moment he lost his arm.

Killer didn't have time to register the pain, and slew the assassin who dared attempt to harm Nightmare. Killer was outnumbered still, and if he was having difficulties before, it was going to be impossible to hold out now.

He was lucky he didn't have to though, as several Guardsmen burst into the room. Seems they'd finally heard the commotion. The Guardsmen drove out the assassins, only managing to capture two. Killer was tended to, and he refused to leave Nightmare's side until the drug wore off.

How did Nightmare handle it?

Nightmare was half conscious in the moment, and so most of what he saw didn't register properly. It was only when the drug had worn off and he saw Killer by his side, sans one arm (Hehe), that it hit him.

Nightmare was angry first and foremost. He was angry it happened, angry Killer was dumb enough to get hurt, angry he wasn't able to resist the stupid drug, and angry that Killer seemed completely unbothered.

Nightmare didn't react well at all, and he ended up putting Killer on temporary leave. When Killer tried to refuse Nightmare said he was useless with only one arm, and Nightmare didn't need a useless Guard. Killer shut up pretty quickly.

Killer was still allowed to stay at the castle of course, but he was forbidden from coming near Nightmare's office, or taking part in any Guard duties. Nightmare believed that what happened was the stupidest thing Killer could have done, and refused to think otherwise.

It was during Killer's leave that Nightmare did research. He interrogated the cult members, and utilized glamours (Which we all know he's not fond of) in order to leave the castle without issue. Throughout his research, he spoke with the Court Apothecary regularly about Killer's injury. How was he fairing, is he at risk of dusting, is there anything to be done, stuff like that.

The Apothecary had made an offhanded comment that Killer is going to be without his arm for the rest of his life, since skeletons don't regenerate. Not unless he got enough magic to replace the missing arm at least.

He mentioned just getting a prosthetic for Killer, but that went in one ear and out the other, so to speak. Nightmare began to think about the suggestion (even though it was a joke). Nightmare had a large surplus of magic, and he thought about whether or not it was possible to somehow weave his magic with Killer's and form a new limb.

By the time Killer had returned to Nightmare, asking to return to his duties, the King had already figured out a way to properly do the procedure. He of course asked Killer if he would be allowed to do so, that he wasn't certain if it would work and that it certainly wouldn't be pretty.

Killer agreed without issue. The process was indeed a painful one... fusing Nightmare's magic with Killer's was difficult, and it was akin to taking a freezing cold needle and sewing a constantly shifting mass of energy directly to his soul. (Not actually how it worked, it's just how it felt).

The only reason Killer got through the procedure was because of Nightmare's intent. We all know that intent comes through to Monsters when involving magic, and Nightmare's intent made the process a lot less painful. Heal, fix, help, care, all those things came through to Killer.

It helped that Nightmare had a good relationship with Killer. His magic was much more willing to accept Killer's and vice versa. If this had been done between Nightmare and a stranger, it wouldn't have worked.

It took Killer a few days to work the arm properly. It was almost dead weight for a while. After that, it took even longer for him to properly fight with it, and longer still for him to be able to utilize the magic it was made with.

Has Nightmare ever asked Killer to sing for him?

Nope, Nightmare doesn't even know Killer can or that he has a good voice XD Killer has never sung in front of anyone, nor does he care to. It's just not something he does, but I imagine there could be a few scenarios where he gets coerced into it. Singing with friends, soothing a wounded animal (Yes Killer would do that, he likes small animals. They're cute.), that kind of stuff.

Nightmare's never had a reason to think Killer could sing. >w<

What Ships are going to be canon in Kingdomverse?

Well we've already got Cream, Killermare and Afterdeath as being confirmed.

Honestly I've kinda decided to leave the others more open for interpretation! If you want, you can say Errink is gonna happen, Lust could probably be someones s/o, it's all up to interpretation >w<

Theres quite the cast of characters in Kingdomverse?, and there might be more added later (if I can think of them), so honestly I'm sure there's no issue with some other ships coming to life!

Basically theres no other planned canon ships >w<

Can the skellies get preggers?

I don't see why not! Nightmare and Dream being immortals doesn't stop them from having kids, but I would say that if they did it would probably be through a different process than mortals.

I'd say that monsters need to make the conscious, or unconscious decision that they want a child or that they are ready for a child before they can have one.

Nightmare and Dream would probably be a bit difficult to have a child with purely because they have an immense amount of power and magic (even after a bond), so it might be a bit risky even for them to have kids.

(if any of you do make ship kids I want to see them though, I love baby bones >w<)

[haikyuuhoo]

Contemporaneous - Chapter 1

Pairing: Atsumu x F!Reader

Summary: In which you are so incredibly lucky to exist at the same time as Atsumu Miya. Or, perhaps, it’s the exact opposite…

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, inconsistent chronology (sorry I just liked it better that way), that’s about it so far

A/N: Okay, here’s ch. 1 finally! Mostly background, setting the stage, all that. Things will probably move quicker in upcoming chapters because I’m busy and have a hard time thinking of filler plot lol. Enjoy, please let me know what you think!

Prologue | Chapter 2

All of your best memories were with the twins.

Not like that was a hard thing to accomplish—pretty much all of your memories were with the twins.

The good memories, the bad memories, and all the ones in between. They were the biggest constant in your life and you felt so lucky to have them.

Sometimes you got emotional about it, and they teased you for it, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“H-Hey, why are ya crying?” Atsumu had asked one time at fifteen when the three of you sat outside of the 24-hour convenience store near your house at 2 in the morning, each of you holding your own popsicles you’d snuck out to get.

“I just love you guys so much,” you said with a sniffle, wiping your nose on the cuff of your sleeve.

Osamu grimaced, looking down at you. “Y-Ya don’t have to get all emotional about it. We’re kind of stuck with ya.”

You frowned, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “Just say you love me too, dummy,” you huffed.

His eyebrows knitted together. “We love you,” he sighed before wrapping an arm around you to give you a side-hug.

Atsumu wrapped his arm around you as well and gave you a grin. “Yeah, but please don’t cry anymore. It’s kinda embarrassing,” he laughed.

“Oh, shut up,” you whined, though you felt comfort flood through you at the feeling of being sandwiched between your two best friends. “You know I get sentimental when I’m tired.”

“Doesn’t make it any less embarrassing,” Osamu mumbled, but a smile played on his lips.

You hummed and closed your eyes for a moment. “Well get used to it, you’re not getting rid of me.”

The twins were like your personal bodyguards. If someone messed with you, they messed with the Miya twins—and no one wanted to mess with the Miya twins. You first learned that when you were nine years old.

The air left your lungs, palms and knees scraping against the ground as you were pushed from the swing you’d been sitting on.

“You’re so lame!” one kid teased from behind you, shrill voice barely making its way to your ears as tears began to prick in your eyes.

“Yeah, where are your dumb friends? They must not like you if they aren’t even playing with you!” another said as the three kids who were picking on you moved to stand in front of where you still remained on your hands and knees, head hung in an attempt to hide the way you were crying.

Atsumu and Osamu had been punished for fighting during in class and the teacher made them stay inside for the first ten minutes of recess. You told them you’d wait for them by the swings; you didn’t really hang out with anyone else anyway. This group of kids didn’t like that though, telling you that the swings were their hangout spot during recess. You told them you’d leave after a couple minutes—you didn’t really want to just stand around and wait for the twins. What was the harm in swinging for a bit?

The harm was too great for the kids currently bullying you, apparently, and they decided to shove you off of the swings.

Your hands and knees burned from the scrapes you’d gotten, and you pushed your palms against your legs to try to make it stop stinging.

“Aww, are you crying?” the third kid laughed, and you looked up at them, face wet with tears.

“Oh my god, she is crying!”

A chorus of laughter sounded in front of you, making you cry even harder. Your face grew hot with embarrassment, tears leaving silvery streaks on your skin. And then suddenly, the figures of the three kids in front of you were shadowed as someone approached them from behind.

Two someones, in fact.

“Leave her alone,” Atsumu said, his voice causing a terror to run through the bullies in a way you didn’t think was possible for a nine-year-old.

The twins had a few bandages decorating their arms and faces, evidence of all the spats they got into with each other. But even after being kept in from recess they were already willing to fight again—just not with each other this time.

“You’re really pathetic,” Osamu continued, arms crossed over his chest as he gave the terrified kids an apathetic look.

“Yeah, get lost before I punch yer stupid face.” Atsumu stuck his tongue out, and somehow, the intimidation worked.

The bullies scurried off and Osamu helped pull you to your feet. “I’ll take ya to the nurse,” he offered, looking at the scrapes on your hands.

“And I’ll go beat them up,” Atsumu said, eyes still angry as he watched the kids run to the other side of the playground.

“No, it’s okay,” you sniffled, reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“Yeah, you’ll just get in trouble again, dummy,” Osamu reasoned with his twin.

Atsumu sighed and turned to you, shoulders slumping when he really took a good look at you. “’M sorry we weren’t here,” he said as the two of them started walking you back to the building so you could get your cuts cleaned up.

“‘S okay,” you said again.

“No it’s not! They’re dumb for picking on ya,” Atsumu argued. He let out an annoyed grunt when the three of you got inside. “Wish they’d get kept in from recess for being idiots…”

Being a family friend also meant that you got along with the twins’ parents too—especially their mom. She treated you as if you were her own daughter, and sometimes she joked that she wished you were because the twins were so hard to handle.

You were so close with them that sometimes you would go over to their house even when you knew the twins were at volleyball practice.

When you were twelve, she’d decided you were probably old enough to watch one of the shows she enjoyed, and so you started going over to their house after school to watch TV dramas with their mom while you waited for them to come home from practice.

“Y/N,” Atsumu whined one day as soon as he saw the two of you. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off and he was already complaining. This was the fourth day in a row they came home to find you watching television with their mom. “What’re ya doing? Yer supposed to be our friend!”

“Shut up,” Osamu mumbled, taking his shoes off and removing his jacket. “You’re so embarrassing.”

Atsumu frowned, eyes going wide as if he was pleading with you to come hang out with them instead.

“‘Tsumu, you just got home. We’re almost done with this episode, and then I’ll come hang out!” you reasoned with him.

He huffed, finally reaching down to take off his shoes. “Sometimes I feel like ya like her more than me,” he grumbled, earning him a smack on the back of his head from his brother.

“Keep up the attitude and she will start liking Mom more,” Osamu hissed.

You were always at their games. And when I say always, I mean always. You were the loudest member of the cheering section, and there were countless times when you didn’t even have the voice left to congratulate them on their victories.

One thing you never did, though, was boo them. They were your best friends—and you were close with the rest of the team too—so you never had the heart to boo them when they messed up.

Atsumu confronted you about it once when you were seventeen—they hadn’t even lost—after he’d had a tough game.

“Y/N,” he said, face stuck in a frown as he approached you.

You gave him a grin, wrapping your arms around him as you pulled him into a hug. “Congrats, ‘Tsumu!”

“Don’t congratulate me,” he hissed, stiffening in your hold.

You frowned and pulled away from him. “Why not? You won.”

“Because I sucked. You should have booed me.”

You rolled your eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re so dramatic. Everyone messes up, ‘Tsumu. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It was close! I could have cost us the match!” he argued.

Now it was your turn to frown at him. “So you botched a few serves, it’s not a big deal. Your sets were great. Besides, I’m not gonna boo my own team, Atsumu—” He grimaced at the sound of his full name. “—and I’m most certainly not going to boo you.”

“Losers don’t need applause.”

You scoffed. “You aren’t a loser! I swear sometimes you’re so hard on yourself for no reason. People have bad games. I’m not going to ridicule you for it.”

“You should!”

Your jaw clenched. You hated when he did this to himself.

“I deserve ta be booed, ta be yelled at, ta be told what a piece of trash I am because I almost screwed this up for us!”

“It’s not going to make you better, you dumbass!” you finally shouted, shoving his chest.

Atsumu stumbled backwards a few steps, heartrate increasing. He couldn’t tell whether it was from the adrenaline of the game, his disappointment in himself, or your actions. You’d never pushed him like that. Sure, you bickered and things of that nature, but this time you seemed genuinely angry.

“You’re one of the hardest working people I know and seeing you put yourself down like that when all you had was one bad set makes me want to punch you in the face!” Your heart was pounding, the sound deafening you as your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I don’t give a shit about those people in the stands, they don’t really care about you. I’m your best friend! I’m not supposed to beat you down, I’m supposed to pick you back up!”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, words getting caught in his throat as he tried to gather his thoughts.

You pushed past him with a scowl. “I’m gonna go congratulate ‘Samu. Don’t talk to me until you’ve got your shit together.”

Osamu had been standing with Aran, Suna, and Kita by the entrance to the gym. They’d been chatting, but it had gotten cut short in favor of watching your interaction with the setter.

Osamu was in shock. He’d never seen you like that, which was saying something considering how long he’d known you, and it was kind of refreshing to see his brother get put in his place like that.

“That was kinda hot,” Suna said absentmindedly, eyebrows raised in amusement.

The gray-haired twin turned to glare at his friend. “Say that again and I’ll punch you.”

“Osamu,” Kita scolded.

“Sorry, Kita-san.”

Of course, with years and years of memories and friendship with the twins, you couldn’t help but think it was more than luck that brought you together. And even though you believed the three of you were fated to be together, as you got older something just felt different.

The summer before you started high school you had started to think that maybe you were fated to be more than just friends with Atsumu when feelings for him started to blossom. You tried to ignore them, far too shy and inexperienced in the ‘liking boys’ department to know how to deal with this new sensation.

You tried not to let it change your friendship with him, but there were times when you’d feel your face grow hot or your stomach flutter when you were around him.

At first, you didn’t like this feeling at all.

The twins had always been your comfort—your safe space. And now you were nervous to even be around Atsumu. But at the same time, all you wanted to do was be around him.

You hated it.

You hated the way you immediately perked up at the sound of them coming home when you should have been watching TV with their mom, now too distracted to even pay attention to the end of the show.

You hated the way you wanted to comfort Atsumu in a way that was so much more than friendly when he was beating himself up.

And you loathed the way you felt jealousy bubble in your veins at the thought of Atsumu liking someone else.

So you did your best to push the feelings away when you were around them.

But when you were alone, they all tumbled out, and you decided to take up journaling as an attempt to deal with the feelings. You felt embarrassed, as a teenage girl does, to have a journal filled with all of these thoughts, so whenever you were finished writing you hid it in your sock drawer lest one of the twins find it and tease you about it for weeks.

When you started high school and the twins joined the volleyball team, they were instant phenoms. And in turn, they garnered a lot of attention—especially from girls.

It upset you, if you were going to be honest with yourself. Not only because you couldn’t really hang out with your friends in the halls or during lunch without being interrupted by their gang of fan girls, but also because you despised the girls who flung themselves at Atsumu. It killed you to see them batting their long eyelashes and talking to your best friends with their cute voices, all while you sat to the side like some kind of unwanted piece of stale bread. And it especially killed you when Atsumu started returning their affections.

It scared you. It all scared you. The feelings, the girls, high school—you were terrified. You didn’t want to ruin things between the two—three—of you with your feelings, but the girls made you so insecure. So instead, you wrote in your journal.

You wrote down all of your feelings for three years.

You didn’t speak a word of them to anyone, no less the twins.

And there was a page you came back to almost every day, even though you had written it during your first year:

 The odds of existing are slim,

so the odds of you and I existing at the same time

must be next to impossible,

and I think that’s beautiful.

 Maybe the universe does work in my favor after all

because I got the chance to get to know you.

 You stared at the page, not even realizing tears were forming in your eyes until one fell and landed on your hand that pressed down on the page. It was a habit to hold it open, but it wasn’t even necessary anymore—you’d opened your journal to this page enough that it stayed open on its own.

When you’d written it, it was a happy thought. But now, three years later, it didn’t feel so happy. Atsumu was getting busier and busier with volleyball, and that meant he only got better, and when he got better his fanbase grew.

You were starting to feel like a second choice.

Scratch that, you were starting to feel like a tenth, twentieth, fiftieth choice.

You craved the attention he gave those girls. You wanted him to grin at you like that. You wanted to be more than just his best friend.

But you felt like you were running out of time.

It was ironic, considering you believed the universe brought the three of you together with the intention of you being side by side forever.

Maybe, after all this time believing it, you were finally starting to realize that you were wrong.

[captainsolare]

Hiiii Cap 🥰 Can I get Yami fluff? 💕 Roll 4 times for AU, 1 time for dialogue prompt and 3 times for trope 💕 Thank you!!

A/N: Hi Nati!! I hope you enjoy it! Prince Yami is a very dreamy idea.

Yami Fluff + Royalty AU! + Locked in a (chamber) + "I wish I could hate you."

Yami stretched, nearly falling out of the tree he was perched in. He steadied himself, taking a long breath of air before leaning back against the tree; they’d be looking for him soon, they always did. Like clockwork, he heard footsteps rushing into the courtyard, “Prince Yami! I know you’re here in one of these trees, you have royal duties to attend to.”

Rolling his eyes, he hopped out of the tree, landing with a thud on the ground below. It was Finral, his primary keeper that had come for him this time.

“There you are! Prince you can’t keep going off like this, it worries the King.” Finral chastised, ushering him down the long hallway to Yami’s office.

Yami sighed, “I know, I know. But paperwork is boring.” He sat down at his desk, eyeing the files that sat untouched upon it.

Finral crossed his arms, fixing Yami with his sternest glare, but it failed like always and his gaze softened. “I know it’s no fun, but you must attend to your princely duties.”

The door shut with a click and Finral returned to his post outside it.

Yami sighed, putting his feet on the desk and flipping open the first file. “If he’s so worried about me, why doesn’t he ever come to see me?”

-

Once night fell you scaled the castle wall easily, keeping to the shadows. You’d spent weeks memorizing the guards’ schedule, figuring out the weaknesses in this impenetrable castle, and now was the perfect time to act. You had managed to get a map of the inside of the castle before you came here, and by now had committed it to memory.

If your intel was to be believed, the item you were looking for was kept in Prince Yami’s desk, the second drawer from the top, right-hand side. You crept along the walls, thankful for your camouflage cloak when a pair of guards went past your position. The trip to the second floor was quick work, but now came the hard part, you’d need to make it into the Prince’s room without getting caught. You found an empty room a few doors down and snuck inside, preparing to stand on the window ledge and scale across that way.

The window opened with surprising ease and you stepped outside after making sure the coast was clear. You could only pray that there was no one awake in the rooms between your current position and the room you were trying to get to. Thankfully, it seemed as if all the lights were off in the rooms between, so you should be able to slip past without detection. You made it to the Prince’s room and crouched down, praying the window wouldn’t open too loudly.

To your relief, the window opened with ease, and you smiled. It was obvious from the wear that the Prince often used this window to sneak out. You entered the room cautiously, boots thudding softly on the carpeted floor. The desk was across the room, but based on the snores you heard from the Prince’s bed, getting there shouldn’t be a problem.

You opened the drawer and just as your intel had said, there lay the ruby bracelet, ripe for the taking. Soon, you’d be off somewhere remote with plenty of pocket change. Your only way out of here was back the way you came, so you started heading off in that direction, but there was a whoosh of steel and a sword was placed dangerously close to your neck.

“Who are you?” Prince Yami asked, voice rumbly from sleep. “Just a thief.” You replied quietly, there was no talking your way out of this one. You raised your hands in submission, dropping the bracelet. Yami released the sword from your neck and picked up the bracelet, putting it in his pocket. Before he could ask for your name you were taking off across the room, trying to get to the window before he could stop you.

“Wait!” He whispered harshly, “Don’t step… there.”

There was a loud clicking sound, you’d stepped on a trap door. The floor opened up, sending you both tumbling into the pit below. The pit was surprisingly soft at the bottom, as you patted your hand around you realized it was hay.

“Are you okay?” You heard the Prince ask. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could make him out in the ambient light.

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s good to hear.” He leaned against the wall of the pit, hair disheveled from sleep and from your fall into this place.

An uncomfortable silence settled over you, only the sound of your breaths breaking it.

“Any idea when we can get out of here?” You asked, watching him with hopeful eyes.

Yami sighed, “Not until morning. My knight will come looking for me then and he’ll be able to let us out.”

You smiled sadly, “I see, and I guess after that happens I’ll be executed.”

“Probably.”

The silence fell over you again, this time a more somber one.

“What’s your name?” Yami asked, turning to face you.

You took a breath, wondering if this was a good idea, then decided to just tell him, if you were to die anyway, it would be nice to make a friend first.

“It’s Y/N.”

“I see, that’s a pretty cool name.”

You laughed, “You think so? It seems pretty normal to me.”

Yami smiled, “Maybe so. You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t have many friends.”

“Really? I’d expect a handsome prince such as yourself to be surrounded by them.”

Yami laughed, a deep rumbly chuckle that you could feel in your own chest, “I suppose it may appear that way, but really it’s just people that want to suck up to me because of my title.”

You nodded, fixing your gaze upwards, “I know how that goes.”

Yami squinted, surprised at your admission, “Really? You don’t seem the type.”

You laughed and Yami cocked his head, studying your face best he could in this light, “Even royals can become disgraced Prince Yami. I used to be in a similar position to yourself, but I ran away, needed to get out of that place.”

You scooted closer to each other as you continued with your story, Yami settled his elbows on his knees.

“I used to have dreams about leaving, buying my own house by the seaside, living independently. No maids or servants, just me.” Your voice sounded almost wistful as you spoke, and Yami thought of his own dreams.

“I want to leave this place too.”

“Is that so? Where would you go?” You cocked an eyebrow, studying him. Prince Yami was attractive in a rugged sort of way, his jaw was chiseled and covered with stubble, and even in this dim light, you could tell how muscular he was.

Yami straightened, his eyes full of a hopeful sparkle, “I want to go live in the forest and open my own Knight Training academy. I’d take in the misfits from the Kingdom, those who have no place else to go. Maybe we’d be a family of sorts, it would certainly be better than what I have here.”

You smiled, a wistful sadness overtaking you, “That sounds lovely Prince Yami.”

“Oh please, call me Yami, there’s no need for formality here. And really? You don’t think it’s dumb?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I think it’s a noble dream.”

The two of you talked for a while longer, until your eyes were bleary with sleep. You huddled together for warmth as the pit became colder.

“I’m sorry I got us into this mess Yami.” You said softly, you had scooted next to him now, your head resting lightly on his chest.

Yami chuckled softly, “I wish I could hate you for it but the truth is, this is the first time I’ve been able to be this open with anyone in quite a while.”

“I see, well that’s comforting to hear.”

Yami got the spark of an idea, “Y/N.”

“Yes?”

He sat up excitedly, and you pulled away so you could look at him better.

“What if I did open that training school, and what if you were my first recruit? If you didn’t end up being executed of course. We could find a spot in the woods near the seaside, there is such a place, I’ve seen it. And we could open that school together! You’ve already proven that you can be sneaky, you could train our knights in stealth techniques.”

Yami’s words were kind, you could find hope being stoked in your heart, but you knew it couldn’t happen. You surely would be executed for trespassing and attempted theft.

“But… how would that happen? I will surely be killed in the morning.”

“Not if I lie.”

“Lie? What could you possibly come up with that could get me out of my inevitable fate?”

“You’ll see, I am excellent at talking my way out of things.”

You wished you could believe him.

-

The trapdoor was opened sometime later, letting the harsh light of the morning into your prison.

“Prince Yami, how many times have I told you to be careful? I have pointed the spot of the trapdoor to you many many times now.” A voice from above said.

“I know Finral, I’m sorry.”

You and Yami climbed from the pit and Finral drew his knife. You tried not to panic, but the possibility of you being thrown in jail, and worse, were almost certain now.

“Who is this Prince Yami? Are they a criminal? Did they trespass into your room?”

Yami put a hand up, gesturing for Finral to put the knife down.

“No, they aren’t, and no they didn’t. This is Y/N, and the past few months we have been discussing plans for my training academy, in secret of course.”

Finral blinked, looking from you to Yami and back again. “Is this where you have been running off to then?”

Yami nodded sheepishly, “Yes, I didn’t want to tell you because you’d already warned me against such actions.”

“Prince Yami, you already know I support you fully. In fact, I have already found a property in the woods like you wanted. I’ve even cleared your plan for the school with the King.”

Yami sucked in a breath, “Is the ocean close by too?”

When Finral nodded, you and Yami clasped each other's hands excitedly, then you wrapped Finral into a tight hug.

“This is great! When can we set off?” Yami asked, chuckling as Finral took deep breaths after being let go.

“Right now if we hurry.”

“Great! I will pack my bags.”

Finral nodded and set off to pack his own.

“Well?” Yami turned to you, eyes full of hope, “Do you still want to come? If you want to leave there will be no hard feelings.”

To his delight, you smiled, taking his hand in your own. “Of course I do.”

Over the course of one night, your life had completely changed, and you were filled with hope once more. Maybe, just maybe, you could make a difference here, unlike in your own kingdom. As you watched Yami buzzing about, packing his things, you couldn’t help but smile, maybe you could find love here as well.

[patchies]

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not... Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: slight mentions of amnesia and returning memories

Word Count: 1.5+k

Author's Note: the story's a bit changed now and as you might notice, I deleted the third, fourth and fifth chapter, because I plan on adding more things into the story line that are behind their events. I hope it doesn't bother you, guys, but I promise there won't be anymore changing. Fingers crossed.

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 3: The Art of War

You both decide that the best course of action is to take advantage of the daylight and get to work on fortifying your base with items you'd found beforehand. Nick proves to be lot of help as you dance around each other in sync and ask for assistance whenever it's needed. You didn't think that you'd be working as a unit even after knowing each other for barely twenty-four hours. The chemistry between you is uncommonly good, but it might be because of the events of last night.

You sometimes bump the other's arm, but Nick has an exceptional number of questions and requests thrown your way every time it happens.

Though, one of his requests seems unusual.

“Hey, mind handing me the paint brush from the shelf?”

Your gaze shifts from his figure and the aforementioned item quizzically, wondering what he'd need it for. Although your confusion seeks answers to your silent question, you slowly move towards the shelf, not daring to turn your back towards him as the neutral and almost bored look his face sports tells you he has something mischievous on his mind. Or strange.

The feel of the brush is surprisingly very familiar in your hand, light as a feather. It's as if it was speaking to you, tempting you. Foggy memories buzz around your mind space and as a spark flies through your head, you grimace uncomfortably. Nick gives you a worrying glance, but doesn't approach you further. Nor does he speak to you since he can see the slight pain going across your features.

With a noticeable shake of your head, you push the thought away, opting to focus on the matter at hand, “What exactly is it that you want to do with a brush that serves for painting the walls?”

“I was thinking–“

“That's dangerous for you,” you interrupt, “don't want your brain to fry, do we?”

“As I was saying, I was thinking,” he playfully glares at you, “that we could paint few signs with threats to ward the intruders off.”

“Nick–“

“Hold that thought,” he advances towards you with a grin, waving his hands to help himself articulate his plan better, “I know it sounds stupid, which I don't think it does, but let's go with that, you gotta trust me. How many people would decorate their outer walls with childish signs that warn them?”

“Exactly–“

“Nah-uh! It does sound dumb when I say it like that, but it's worth a shot, ain't it?”

You sigh loudly and, with the acceptance of loss, hand him the tool. He squeals a small 'yes!' in victory and pumps his fist into the air, doing a little dance. You huff out a laugh, finding the situation funny despite him asking for a small and unimportant thing.

“Indeed. Truly a child at the heart, aren't you?”

“I'll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.”

With his small victorious moment over, he bounds from your view and you can hear the ruckus of pans and pots banging in seconds, only imagining the man-child ransacking the whole kitchen for who-knows-what. You return to your assigned job and wait for him to come back, opting to busy yourself with work as he searches for what he supposedly needs for his plan.

• • •

After what feels like an hour, Nick returns with buckets of various colours. Three hanging of each arm as he stabilizes his body to prevent the disaster in the form of bright pink, purple and red along with their neon variables. He motions towards the buckets with his head, prompting you to help him get them down. You cross your arms across your chest, sassily pointing to the sofa you've moved to the corner of the room, “You can put it there, can't you?”

“Oh, damn. That's what I get for helping you?”

You roll your eyes, but go slip the heavy containers off of his arms, carefully putting them on their respective spots on the ground near the wooden boards, “Where did you even find these, Nick?”

He puts his finger to his mouth, shushing you in the process, “A magician never reveals his secret, does he now?”

“You're not a magician, dude.”

“Let a poor guy dream, will you?”

Rather than answering his rhetorical question, you squat down before flopping onto the floor on your bottom, beckoning him to do the same. Nick follows, unhooking another brush from his belt hoops and presents it to you with the handle pointing towards you.

“Why thank you for this beautiful stuff I can wield with exceptional power,” you take the tool from him and instantly bend forward to tap both his shoulders with the bristles, “I now pronounce you as the Majesty's guard.”

“Who's the child now?”

“Still not me,” you press the handle to your sternum proudly, mischief flashing across your eyes, “We better start painting or we'll never get anything done. How exactly do you imagine the finished product to look?”

“I don't know,” he shrugs, “Improvise.”

“The instructions I, oh so, craved,” you shake your head, dipping the brush into the bright red absentmindedly. Nick slides one board over to you and you apply the first stroke, paint gliding across the surface smoothly.

The same faint memory flickers in your mind.

This one is clearer and you can even distinguish an image forming.

Confusion etches onto your face unknowingly to you, but the man across you catches onto your expression when he lifts his head. His eyes observe your own clouded orbs and he gently sets his brush on the floor, cocking an eyebrow as yours furrow together. He watches for any signs of you returning back to the present despite him not knowing what's going through your head.

He'd very much like to know, but of course, he'll wait until you will be ready tell him what's up.

Before he knows it, you're shaking your head to get rid of the picture in your mind. Nick gives you a worrying glance, silently asking you if you're okay with a quick raise of his chin.

“I'm fine, don't worry.”

With your disorientation and slower reaction time, you hardly get to register his movement and it takes your brain a couple more minutes (having to cross your eyes to confirm his actions, too) to realize he's booped your nose.

With neon pink paint.

Neon.

Pink.

Paint.

Instead of an outburst like he seems to have expected, you let your face stay stoic.

Silence envelops you both, sitting there and waiting for the others' move.

Few of the birds you have around the neighbourhood happily chirp and only after a while does a sinister smile appear, “I see. A death wish.”

Nick scrambles to his feet as quickly as he can, but you're faster, curling your nimble fingers around his ankle and harshly pulling him back down to the floor.

He lets out a small 'oof!', eyes wide with fear when he gets a glimpse of you.

For a reason, might you add, as you swing your arm at his head with a bright red paint brush in your hand, striking the right side of his hair.

An offended look crosses his face, “You did not.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“You'll pay.”

“Bring it,” you challenge and have just enough time to duck out of the way, barely missing his attack of purple. You crawl away from him on all fours, before standing up swiftly and booking it down the stairs, Nick's yells following you as he chases after you with a readied brush.

Though, just before you get to the stairs, he tackles you to the side and sits on your back to prevent you from running away. You feel the paint glide across the back of your thighs, “Another point for me.”

“We're doing points now?”

“You better catch up, slowpoke, or else I'm going to destroy you–”

The answer he gets to his call-up is a strike of red to his torso and a laugh as you dash down to hide, the signs left forgotten.

• • •

By the end of your small war, you come out with multiple colourful splotches on both the back and front of your thighs and few on your arms and face. You have basically come out unscratched compared to your human counterpart.

He's very close to being a living highlighter.

You have mainly struck him with neon colours and the occasional red that he rightfully deserved. His whole torso, chest and back now adore beautiful variants of pink and purple with some places being neon red.

His painted arms are actually not your doing, despite him throwing the blame at you in the heat of the moment. With how he had declared the war in the first place, you were surprised he was the one who called truce in the end.

After washing up (which, to be truthful, didn't do much), you went to tidy everything up and got back to building defences as the sun has not gone down yet.

At the end of the day, you've done quite a good amount of work on your base, but you can't take away the fun Nick made with the paint war you had. You can only hope it'll be enough to keep away the Shadows and not attract more attention than you can fight off.

You fall asleep quite easily, exhausted to the brim from the day's events.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space orcs, “Revelation.”

Hey guys, I had a bunch of trouble writing last night for some reason, but I managed to get something out, so I hope you like it :) 

“So what do you think, am I more of a Han Solo type or a Captain Kirk type because you know if I am being honest it really depends. I think I would like to think of myself as a Han Solo type, you know dashing and sarcastic, the hero you want to have come in to save the day, but Captain Kirk I can also see. You see I make dumb decisions sometimes and get everyone into trouble. Oh oh oh!! wait ! How about Captain Malcom Renylds. I feel like he is just enough of an idiot and just enough of a badass to work, what do you think detective?”

The Detective groaned loudly and took a long slow breath, “Admiral, listen to m-”

“You know I was also thinking about other parallels. You know how about that old animated movie Titan EA. I think I kind of look like Cale, and Sunny acts just a bit like Stith, you know, the angry chick with big legs. I liked captain Korso of course, just for simple aesthetic reasons, than he had to go and be a bad guy, but damn that redemption arc was surprising and well timed, at least I think, others may disagree.”

“ADMIRAL VIR I-”

“You know I have seen every space related science fiction movie and TV show that ever existed, and I am totally cool to keep talking. I mean I have to pass the time somehow until my lawyer gets here. You see my mother always said I liked to talk. I talked early, in fact, my brothers don’t like the fact that I talk so much, they say I talk TOO much, can you believe that.”

With an angry yawl like a Cat who just got their tail stepped on, the detective rose to his feet, hands to his head, “That is IT, that is IT. We will continue this interrogation LATER.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the room muttering to himself the entire way, “I need a break.”

Adam Vir watched him go with an expression of pure innocence on his face as the door closed, only to morph into an expression of devilish amusement not dissimilar to that of the grinch in his original animated form. He leaned back in his chair resting his hands behind his head. The Detective had seen fit to undue his cuffs as it might make him more cooperative. The irony being that he would totally love to cooperate if someone was willing to cooperate with him, and actually believe his story.

He cleared his throat wishing he had accepted the drink of water offered to him earlier. He had been talking for about five hours now, straight. Apparently a filibuster isn’t just something you can use in politics. It is apparently a very effective way of driving young and inexperienced detectives insane.

He smugly leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Interrogation techniques were designed to work on the guilty, or, if done wrong, on the slow, but he was neither of those things. Granted he was kind of an idiot, but he was more of an idiot in the way of his idols like captain Kirk and Malclom reynolds and less of an idiot like every disney villain’s cronies. He was smart just…. Selectively.

He cracked an eye as the door opened opposite.

At first he expected to see the detective ready to go another round already, but instead a group of Drev guards walked in. He smiled his best winning smile at them and rose from his seat, “Back to the cells boys.”

The Drev didn’t say anything.

He tried a different tactic, “Zhad chal dana tsa najastich.” May the sun watch over you: A traditional, and respectful, Drev greeting 

The two creatures pulled up in their tracks.

“Tsa Dzhal cheeych” You speak Drev

“Yid.” Yes 

His little greeting had the desired effect, and soon he had the two Drev warriors conversing like two Rundi at a political debate. They laughed together as they walked down the halls of the precinct.

Still in Drev, the three of them continued to converse, Adam talking animatedly, “So then I told him that I can’t hit kids right,  and he was all like. Then you can fight me.”

“What happened.”

“Got my ass beat. You don’t just challenge a sentinel to open combat as a rookie, and you know, at only six feet tall.”

The Drev chirped with laughter, coming around the corner to nearly run face first into the Detective who was open mouthed and staring, holding a fresh mug of coffee before him. The Drev’s laughter died down seconds to late, and the man narrowed his eyes, glowering at them.

“What are you doing?”

Adam turned to look at the other drev, “Tin Najastich.” watch this.

HE turned to look back at the Detective, “Ne’e j’ya eeneenat nehtehich.” He can’t understand us.  He didn’t do much, but he could tell by the face the detective made, he had done it right. 

It was a little trick he had learned from Sunny, a Drev dialect that tended to cause breaks in the middle of words as if adding a apostrophe, while simultaneously pronouncing all the ts and ks as clicks, the ts as a forward mouth clicks and the ks glottal clicks at the back of the throat. Either way, it was like putting on a thick southern accent to confuse an alien translator, and it seemed, it simultaneously worked for Drev.

The Drev began to laugh and babble at each other in the dialect as the detective sat there in frustrated anger, “What are they saying!” He demanded.

Adam frowned allowing his face to go straight as he deadpanned, “I wouldn’t know. I am xenopobic and would never dane to learn an alien language, you know, like Drev, or Vrul, or.” he leaned towards the Dredv, “I am currently working on learning tesraki.”

The Drev continued to laugh as they pulled him back towards his cell.:

Adam grinned and waved at the Tesraki guard as he walked past, “You know I have it on good authority that stock prices are about to go way up for holywood inc. They are working on becoming intergalactic. I would suggest getting on that bandwagon”

The Tesraki looked surprised, but grinned and waved at him as he was moved into the other room.

Behind him, the Detective was practically blowing steam out of his ears as the door slammed shut.

***

The human glanced over at Krill for the fifteenth time eyes wide in an expression of barely concealed terror.

Krill would have rolled his eyes if his eyes could roll.

Catching the look, Sunny frowned and leaned in, “You did threaten to eat him.”

Krill scoffed, “I don’t even have TEETH sunny, how was I supposed to eat him!” He turned to glance over at the man who was still giving him a bit of a side eye. He frowned, “Well, I suppose blending him up and turning him into a meat smoothie could work.”

It became pretty evident in the next few seconds that they hadn’t been speaking quietly enough, at least when it came to the comment about a meat smoothie.

Krill waved him off with a hand, “Oh just ignore us, now when is this meeting supposed to take place.”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

Sunny tilted her head back, looking overhead at the darkened sky and approaching rain. 

It was just beginning to drizzle when the man nodded and pointed forward into the darkness, “There.”

Sunny squinted hard, just barely able to make out a shadowy shape slipping through the darkness.

Sunny nudged him forward, “Well, go on. If you do this for us, I won’t let captain cannibal hurt you.”

WIth that urging, it didn’t take long for the man to vanish off into the dark, boots slapping on the wet concrete.

Krill turned to look at her in annoyance, “Its only considered cannibalism if you eat your own species.”

“Whatever,” She muttered, moving into a low crouch and slipping into the shadows off to the side. She managed to parallel the movement of their man for a few streets by ducking behind dumpsters and concealing herself within dark alcoves. At one time in her life she might have considered such actions to be heretical against her beliefs, but her opinions on such things had changed as of recently, and she continued to inch forward through the darkness.

Besides, this was about saving Adam.

Didn’t matter what she had to do, she was going to do it.

The human was close now stopping a few feet away from the shadow. The way the rain fell, it almost concealed the two figures as they spoke. Any bystander just passing by might not have noticed them, but Sunny was not just any bystander.

As the two figures disengaged, she had eyes only for one.

The human, likely scared out of his skin went sprinting off into the darkness likely thinking about krill and his meat blender, but his escape didn’t matter to Sunny. She could find him later if she had to, they had his name after all. What they didn’t have was knowledge about this strange hooded figure in black. The one who had paid the humans to incriminate adam, and themselves by proxy. 

Sunny didn’t know much about stealth as a general rule, but She, still, somehow managed to make it up the street without being seen, tailing the small dark figure. That was her first clue, whoever it was was either a very short human, or not human at all. Now that didn’t really narrow things down as there were several species who could fit into that category, burg iotins even some rundi, or a finnari to name a few. Not that she would ever assume a finnari of doing something like this.

She watched as the figure slipping into one of the large buildings, door shutting quietly behind it. She might have worried about losing the tail if she hadn’t already considered that, and lowjacked the package.

She crouched in the darkness her hands resting on the ground before her, eyes narrowed,

A soft rustling behind her, and she turned nearly jumping out of her skin as a figure scuttled from the darkness, its movements disjointed and aggressive.

“SHHH!” Krill hissed

She snorted fuming, “What the fuck, krill you scared the shit out of me.”

“What, why.”

“Oh I dont know, maybe it has been your recent pension for violence, or the fact that you keep talking about eating people, or your uncanny ability to sneak up behind me.”

“You know, I find all of this to be very insulting. You can stab people in the face, and adam can threaten to punch people in the trachea, but the moment I do something that is even slightly off color, it bothers everyone, and then people get all uppity.”

Sunny sighed, pulling her hood up over her head to block out the deluge, “Generally Adam and I don’t threaten to eat people, Krill. That is the difference.”

“Well no one ever told me there were rules.” He said, gripping onto sunny’s cloak as they inched forward into the darkness, following the signal towards the dark building. They didn’t take the same entrance as the cloaked figure, instead going for a more discreet entrance, finding themselves in a maintenance tunnel lined with pipes and power boxes.

The only illumination they got was afforded to them by the glowing dimness of red lights above and the occasional emergency strip. Somewhere, a distant roar alerted them to the presence of some sort of generator. 

They moved up the hall in near silence as the rumbling continued, and Sunny was forced to stop a few times, listening to the distant echoes of footsteps up the hallway though none of them ever came close enough to cause a real problem.

KRill followed at her back.

Soon enough, they had made it out of the maintenance corridors, following a set of slim metal steps upward and into a nice, tiled hallway. The make was very modern for Tesraki, emulating human style which was rather popular in the galaxy these days, and signified wealth despite the fact that humans were hardly the wealthiest of species.

Fake plants, or maybe real ones --sunny didn’t know-- lined the hallways as little fountains of water trickled through artificial streams on the floor.

The aesthetic was rather pleasing, giving an almost outdoor field inside a city that hadn’t seen green in over a thousand years.

They were almost to the end of the hall when sunny went very still freezing in her tracks fast enough to cause krill to plow into her open back.

“What are you doing.” krill hissed glancing over her shoulder, pausing when a pointed finger motioned him to the target.

“No. That can’t be right.

“I am afraid it is.” ***

Adam woke that night not knowing why.

It was almost as if he had hard a strange noise somewhere in the darkness, but when he sat up, the only thing he could see was the glowing blue/purple wall of the containment field.

He tried rolling over and going back to sleep, but something just felt wrong.

Eventually he forced himself to sit up and look around. In the galaxy, human intuition was nothing more than mere myth, but, despite what others said, he believed in it, and wasn’t about to ignore it’s prodding as it moved him up towards the edge of the containment field to peer into the darkness.

His eyes were almost immediately drawn to one of the other cells -- the one where his attackers had been staying--. Squinting past the glowing surface and into the darkness, he thought he could sense movement.

It was at that moment, that the containment field went down, and he was left blinking into the darkness backing away into his little field of light. When nothing happened, he inched forward and out into the darkness.

Had the containment field malfunctioned?

He took another step into the darkness before turning on the infrared on his mechanical eye and flipping up his eyepatch.

He immediately froze in palace gasping in shock.

“NO!”