#Resist.. urge... to.. add... zombie...

[connectionterminated13]

I want to hear this Victorian au you mentioned

It was just a silly idea I had Last night. (Kind of a rework of an older AU?) Anyway read on

The basic idea is that it's fnaf, But set in Victorian London! And with little to no robots Or techno stuff :) Mostly just ghosts and spoopy magic (?).

I've only got a couple things figured out like William isome sort of wealthy upper class man who likes to collect audides and tinker with supernatural stuff. I think he hires Henry (And pays for him to be shipped from America to England) since he wants to run up everyone else in the collecting oddities part of London by having cool automatons. I think he only starts killing once he realizes that using child's blood he can do cool mystical shit. So that's why he starts stabbing small children

As for Charlie and Michael and the other kids (You know that's what you're here for LOL) Charlie comes to London with her father, Well her brother and mother stay back home (I don't exactly know which part of America she's from but I know that Henry used to work at a big factory before People found out about his awesome robots). She's permitted to play with the Afton kids a lot and likes getting into mischief with Michael. (Using some of my own Michael lore here but he's a bastard child, And his mom's a bit of a mystical weird lady). Charlie is William's first target for child's blood. I can't decide if she dies or not. If she doesn't die then she's Bed ridden for a long long time because it's the Victorian era and healthcare sucks.

After the after the accident (if Charlie lives) Michael isn't allowed to see her since William really doesn't want her to tell anyone that he stabbed her. (She tried to tell some people but Williams said she just had hysteria and everyone believed him, But Michael knows Charlie and isn't sad like Henry so... Probably wont-work) So without Charlie, Michael goes out a lot to rough it with street boys Mostly just to make his dad mad.

I'm also considering with a lot of hesitation this being the 1 AU where Michael gets to keep all of his insides.. It's a radical decision but I'm thinking about it... Maybe I'll make him some other kind of creature since Michael getting to be happy and human is not something That will happen.

(Except in a another AU I had an idea for)

I think that also Evan dies to one of the stuffed bears that William accidentally brought to life. And I think Elizabeth to a clown Puppet meant to trick children into following it so William can get more children's blood. I don't know if she dies the same way Evan dies (in that he dies and becomes a ghost, I think her flesh ties to the puppet or something and She's become something else but I'm not sure How silly I want to take it)

Sorry for how long and ramble and filled with spelling mistakes it is I'm still working on this one.. If you have any ideas please give it to me!

[bluestar22x]

Slow

Slow: A Baby Fever Oneshot

Summary: Marcus takes care of you during your first time together after Rylee's birth

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut, fowl language, so much love, overwhelming fluff, reader has insecurities about her postpartum body and he's having none of that

Word Count: 1,230(ish)

Author's Note: I don't have much to add here except I recommend reading "Colic" before this oneshot. Enjoy. ;)

Also, this completes the oneshots for this series - unless an unforeseen plot bunny arises. I will miss these two, but I am glad to see their story finally all written out.

xxx

"She asleep?" Marcus asked as you entered the bedroom, his back propped against the headboard behind him, lamp on his night stand still lit.

"Out like a light," you declared brightly as you slipped under the sheets with him. "Last night hardly any real fussing and tonight she went down easy. I think Rylee might be finally headed in the right direction with her colic."

"I think so too," he agreed.

"What a relief," you said. "It was nice getting more than three hours of sleep last night. I don't feel like a zombie anymore."

Marcus chuckled. "Same."

He reached for the switch on the lamp and you stopped him, grabbing onto his wrist before it was out of your reach.

He craned his neck to look over his shoulder at you. "What is it?"

"I was thinking today," you said hesitantly. "Maybe now we're not half dead, we could take advantage of it."

Marcus blinked at you, not getting what you meant at first, but when you untied the strings to his night pants, he got the message.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, breath catching.

"It's been ten weeks," you reminded him pointedly. "Well beyond the time Dr. Harrington said to wait. And I feel ready. I promise. Just don't examine me too much. I still have some pudge from the pregnancy."

Marcus practically pounced on you, pinning you to the bed under his broad frame and kissing you breathless. "Why would I care about that, baby? We've been through this. I love you. Every damn version of you. And you are, dare I say, hotter than ever."

You snorted. "You have to say that."

"I mean it," he promised, nuzzling your nose with his. "You're the mother of my child. There's nothing hotter than that."

"You're just trying to get into my pants," you joked, amusement curling your mouth up.

He brushed his lips against your left ear lobe and the feathery touch made you giggle.

"Is it working?" he murmured.

"Well, yeah."

He laughed wholeheartedly. "Good."

He captured your mouth with his briefly, then kissed you down to your neck as your hands skimmed over the smooth but toned skin of his upper arms.

Desire pooled in your belly as you started undressing each other, starting with his clothes and ending with yours.

When you were both completely bare he licked and nipped at your breasts attentively, drawing hushed moans from you, adding fuel to the fire. He kissed down your body more still, paying special attention to your paunchy postpartum abdomen pointedly, and you sighed.

"Want you so badly, Marcus."

He found your lips again before he responded. "Wanna get you ready first, honey. Let me take care of you properly."

There was no alternate universe where you'd refuse him, his concern lighting you up inside. Sometimes you wondered if you could come just from him talking to you like that for long enough.

Maybe you could test it out on another night.

"Use your fingers."

He nodded and slid his right hand down the front of your body, cupped you where you were warm and wet.

Sensitive from the lack of his touch during the previous two months, a quiet little gasp escaped you, and you grabbed his face with both hands to claim his mouth with yours heatedly as he slid his thick fingers into your folds.

You'd missed this so damn much. Him touching you, cherishing you like this.

He hooked a finger gently inside you, against the outer edge, and you writhed under him, trying to resist your urge to moan loudly, afraid that somehow you'd disturb Rylee down the hall.

"You alright?" Marcus inquired.

You nodded, eyes closing. "Mmmm, yes. Keep going, please, Marcus."

"Alright, alright baby."

He inserted another finger inside you and it was almost a relief to have enough to stretch you out, the sensation making you throb in a good way.

He started moving the two fingers in and out of you and you canted your hips up towards him, trying to take them in deeper.

Your breath caught as he increased his speed, another attempt to remain as quiet as possible, and when he finally crooked them inside you whimpered and shook in his arms.

"That's it," he whispered in a satisfied tone, nibbling at your neck. "Do you need a minute?"

You shook your head, though a sudden wave of nerves coursed through you at the same time. It had taken a while after Rylee was born to feel close to normal again, and you'd heard stories about how sex didn't always feel quite the same after giving birth. You hoped that wasn't your case.

Marcus must have sensed your apprehension, because he didn't press on. "You sure?" he asked instead.

You gazed up into his eyes and seeing the softness in them made your worries melt away. He'd said he'd take care of you and you believed him. So what did you have to worry about, really?

"I am," you reassured him, holding onto him tighter.

He gave you a nod and gently spread your legs apart a little more before joining your bodies together with a slow push into you.

Those two words, slow and gentle, perfectly described everything that followed after. From the way he threaded his fingers between yours and mirrored what he was doing inside you with them, pushing and pulling, to the way he kissed the bridge of your nose and the corner of your mouth, making sure not to muffle the already muted sounds slipping out of you. Even the way his beard scratched against your cheek.

He looked down at you adoringly and you looked back, eyes at half mast, heavy with the tension that was increasing inside you with every stroke.

He never stopped stealing kisses from you and you never stopped digging the nails of your free hand into his shoulder.

The steady pace felt entirely pleasant, building you up like a morning sun rising. And when you felt close to your peak, you wrapped your ankles around his waist, changing the angle just enough to make that tension inside you snap, allowing the warmth of a sun to spread throughout your body, through your fingertips and down to your toes.

You almost melted into your pillow afterwards, as Marcus came too, a quick grunt sounding into your ear as he flooded you.

You curled your fingers into his thick hair as he rested his forehead against your collarbone, and grinned.

Maybe your climax hadn't been earth-shattering, but that hadn't been what either of you had been seeking out that night. It had been all about being linked together and the afterglow that followed. The endorphins that left you both in a calming haze.

"You good?" Marcus whispered, facing you after having rolled away.

You nodded slightly, sleepily. "I'm good. That felt really good. I missed that."

He smiled at you fondly and thumbed your cheek, caressed it. "Get some sleep."

You nodded again and did so soon after, huddled with him in the middle of your disarranged bed, and you slept better than you had since Rylee was born.

It helped you'd only had to get up once more to feed her, since Marcus had insisted on being the one to tend to her every time she cried that night.

Taking care of you both as he always did.

xxx

Tagged: @amyispxnk @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[chil-aglia]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 |ROTTMNT| (Leo X Male OC)

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐞

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

It had been a few weeks since the incident with Adriaen, but during the time he was at home recovering, he could actually talk to the others, like everything had gone back to normal again. It made Adriaen’s heart fill up in utter relief.

Now that the time away from the surface has come to an end, the boys were all dressed up in disguises and had taken the Turtle Tank to drive off to the nearest video store.

“I’m calling it, boys, this will be our easiest mission ever!" Leo smirks, looking over at the others with a grin of confidence. "Yes! Dad said all we had to do is return this one Lou Jitsu DVD he rented us."

Adriaen recalled the moment of Splinter giving them a task. 

“…Back to the video store before midnight and I I’ll give you all hugs and um, I will also throw in—“

He didn’t get a chance to add in another sentence as the brothers all excitedly agreed, cheering at the mention of hugs.

”No take backs!” Leo had winked to his father. Adriaen was standing off to the side, letting out exhale and turns away to walk, but Mikey had grabbed Adriaen’s arm, not giving the black masked mutant a moment to process as he drags him off with the others.

Adriaen crossed his arms once the memory he recalled ended there. He didn’t even want a hug from Splinter, but he supposes he could humour the brothers and tag along on their easy mission.

Raph hits the brakes on the tank, having everyone hop out and stretch their legs.

“I forget. What happens if we don’t return the DVD before midnight?" Mikey questions, to which Donnie immediately responds. “Then Splinter gets charged extra. It's called a ‘late fee’."

Donnie did air quotation marks making Adriaen deadpan at the mutant dressed in purple. “Why the air quotations?"

”Don’t question what I do, Adri. For I am the smartest of us.”

Adriaen placed his hands inside the pockets of his hood, “Since when did intelligence come into play here…?”

"Or was it Zombie Apocalypse?” Raph spoke up, “I don't remember but we can't afford either. Now let's return this DVD so we can go home and get hugs."

Raphael was the last one to exit the turtle tank, when he did, they group made their way towards the video store.

“Yeah! Great call on the disguises, guys. It'll really help us blend in with all the people." Leo happily smirks before he gestured out at the empty parking lot.

“Wait, where is everyone?"

Suddenly there was an explosion, making everyone scream and run back to the tank. Raph drove off in a hurry which they ended up finding themselves on a ferry, covered in dirt from the demolition.

"That didn't go so well.” Leo stated, earning a light glare from Adriaen. “You don’t say. We almost got ourselves crushed.” He comments his frustration, Leo smiled and wraps an arm around Adriaen to calm him down.

”But, hey, on the upside, we got to ride the ferry to another DVD store!”

Adriaen resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"So, we didn't see all the warnings: Demolition signs, No biggie." Raph added in to the conversation, “Am I the only one freaking out that if we hadn’t left when we did, we could’ve all literally died?” Adriaen raised his voice slightly, throwing his hands in the air as well.

Mikey sighs, leaning his back against a pillar. "My horoscope didn't say anything about reading signs.” He mumbles, he then moved off the pillar, seeing a black line of paint on his shirt. “Oh! Wet paint? My horoscope betrayed me. We're cursed. We'll never return our DVD before midnight."

He crouched down, lips trembling as Donnie crouched down beside him, patting his brothers head.

"Easy, Michael. Easy.”

Donnie lifts his gauntlet and starts typing away. “Back in ancient times early…2002, there were boxes or kiosks where you could rent or return DVDS and I just plotted everyone in New York to the Tank's GPS, you're welcome. So as soon we dock..."

Mikey sprung up in excitement, "We can finish our mission and go get Splinter's warm and fuzzy hugs?"

"Yes, and the ferry's just about ready to dock." Raph hypes, eager to for those hugs.

“Easiest mission ever."

Leo grabs Adriaen’s arm and lifts his hand up, going in for a high three. But stopped when the ferry came to a halt and the speaker on the ferry goes off, with the driver speaking out to the people on the boat.

“Uh, folks, a movie production has the harbor, uhh closed."

The boys make their way over to the edge to see what was happening. A movie was being filmed, looked to be about a giant monster monkey attacking New York.

"Cut! Cut, cut, cut! Find that monkey's talent and bring it to set!" One of the directors of the film orders out.

“New York. What a town." Donnie lightly smirks, Adriaen owlishly blinking and shaking his head. “Of course they’re filming. Way to make our night just a little bit harder.” He scoffs, as he honestly just wants this over so he can go home.

"We're stuck! Oohh! Now I’ll never know if Splinter’s whiskers tickle." Mikey cries out, pouting, but Raphael had other plans, “Oh, we will know, Mikey. New plan! We swim to the nearest DVD Kiosk."

"Which is approximately 1.0 nautical miles that direction." Donnie informs, pointing out to the direction they needed to go in. Leo runs over and leaps off the ferry.

"Still a piece of cake."

He lands into the water as Donnie used his Hover Shell to fly across. Raph also jumps into the water to swim to their destination.

“Um…uh…” Mikey rubs his hands together nervously. Adriaen was standing beside the youngest brother, at first puzzled by Mikey’s behaviour, until he realised that Mikey was a box turtle. While he could swim when forced to, Mikey much preferred to be on land.

”Mikey.”

”H-huh?”

Mikey turns to face Adriaen who offered a comforting smile. “Hop on my shell. I’ll carry you across.”

”Thanks Adri! Your the best.”

”I know, I know.”

Adriaen was about to jump in but stops himself. He quickly takes off his hoodie and hands it to Mikey. “Don’t want this getting wet. Mind holding it for me?” 

“Sure!”

Adriaen turns back to the water and jumps in. The moment his body hits the water, he dove down, getting adjusted to the water as he hasn’t swum in some time now.

He goes back to the surface and gestured for Mikey to jump on his shell. Mikey gave a thumbs up and leaps off. When he lands perfectly on Adriaen’s shell, they were off. Following after the other three.

-----

Adriaen quickly got dried by shaking off the water, Mikey handed back his hoodie, to which the black masked mutant puts on and pats Mikey’s head.

They quickly caught up with Raph, Leo and Donnie and walk the streets. Leo had found himself a basketball he spotted in the trash and couldn’t help but play with it.

The brothers were talking about what they would be like in movies or comics. "Okay, okay, okay. My turn. If Lou Jitsu and Jupiter Jim make a crossover movie, and that movie is a kid with pro basketball skills, that's me baby!" Leo winks, chucking the basketball in the air towards Raphael who easily caught it.

"Not bad, not bad, but look. The DVD Kiosk."

They turn their attention to see a kiosk that was blocked by trash bags.

"Ah. The sweet stink of victory."

“Gentleman, we clear our path to the return slot: We are home free."

"Easiest mission ever."

Adriaen hums and walks over to move the trash out the way, only to jump back in brief shock when he stumbled upon a mutant silverfish sleeping before it awoke, snarling in annoyance.

The brothers scream which only had the silverfish screech slightly and grabs the kiosk, threatening to throw it at them.

"No, no, no, no! Bad mutant silverfish." Raph scolds it like it was a dog, which seemed to only anger the mutant.

"Save the kiosk!" Donnie exclaimed, having everyone automatically jump in to attack. But the large silverfish easily kicked them away.

Adriaen landed into Leo’s plastron which had the two slide down from the wall that Leo collided with, both groaning.

"Raph-a-roni's got a New York treat for you. Eat this bug!"

Adriaen looks up and widens his eyes when noticed Raph gripping the basketball with his red aura surging right into it.

”Wait…wait, wait, Raph don’t—“

He throws a basketball into the Silverfish's chest. It splits into five and but unfortunately, the kiosk gets destroyed and the silverfish scramble away.

Raph realised what did and chuckled nervously. "W-Whoops. My bad."

Adriaen gets off Leo who stands up, shaking his head and offering an assuring smile. “It's fine. We're fine. It's two hours before midnight and Donnie said there's tons of these DVS Kiosks nearby, right, Donnie, baby?”

They move on to the next Kiosk, next to something called 'Clem's shop'. However, at the Kiosk there was a human man dressed in a wizard costume with a pile of DVD’s stacked beside him.

“Okay, there’s the next Kiosk. Raph, if you would, please?" Donnie gestures for the oldest to talk to the human who carefully walks over.

"Um, excuse me, sir?"

Suddenly the costume wizard turns around and points at the turtles dramatically.

"You shall not pass!"

Seriously…?

“Oh, what a town."

Raph groans, annoyed as he looks to the others. "We don’t have time for this...next!"

And so, the five turtles search for a Kiosk. Which took much of their time. But finally, after a long search they located one at the subway station.

"Okay, here we are, boys. With plenty of time to spare."

"Raph, if you please do the honors and return our DVD."

Raphael walks up to it, reaching for the DVD, only to tense and pat himself down. "Well, uh... hey, uh, have you guys seen…?"

In anger the brothers and Adriaen all shout in unison at Raph losing the DVD.

"Seriously?!"

"Oh, yeah. I left the DVD in the tank where it's safe. When Donnie made us swim across the harbor!"

Donatello widens his eyes at the accusation. “Gasp! That was your idea!"

"Well, sometimes Raph's ideas and mistakes are the same thing, alright?”

Adriaen crossed his arms, deadpanning at Raph. “First the wallet situation at Times Square and now this. You know, maybe we shouldn’t give you anything from now on.”

Leo whines, throwing himself on the ground. "This was supposed to be easy!”

“New, new plan. It's been a few hours, so I bet that Ferry's back at the dock. Let's go get our Tank and DVD."

Mikey frowns on displeasure at the plan, “The ferry's too far. And we're running out of time. We'll never get Splinter's hugs." He bitterly growls out, complaining. Donnie however clears his throat, “In that case, for speed efficiency and fun, may I suggest New York's most enjoyable unreliable and deliciously claustrophobic mode of transit….” He was cut off when a speeding train zooms past him before coming to a stop.

”The subway."

Adriaen slumps his shoulders and stares ahead at the train.

”Oh I’m going to hate this. Can’t we just run it?”

Leo starts pushing him forward to the open doors. “No time, let’s go!” He grins a little playfully as they all huddle into the busy train. The train zooms off once the passengers got on.

It was way too overcrowded for Adriaen to get comfortable in, he was squashed up between Leo and Donnie with Raph standing behind him.

If I don’t get claustrophobia from this, I’m calling it a win.

The train swayed slightly, making Adriaen yelp briefly and crash slightly into Leo who jumps in surprise.

"Who's hand is that? That's a hand right? Who is touching me?"

”Its me. I lost my balance.”

Leo immediately smirks and chuckles slyly. “Well in that case, you’re more than welcome to touch me.” He flirts, but Adriaen of course didn’t pick up on the flirtatious tone, as he adjusted his balance and held onto the railing above.

Mikey was busy snuggling beside a familiar human dressed in a wizard outfit, rubbing his face on the white beard. "I feel like I could feel Dad's hugs. And spoiler alert, they are plush." He sighs dreamily to which Adriaen looked to Donnie who also stared back at him in question at the youngest turtle of the group.

"You have invaded the dragon master's personal space!" The cosplayer announces to Mikey, but luckily the train stops and the doors open.

“New York, what a town." Donnie repeats, exiting the crowded transportation. When Adriaen was finally out of there, he let out a sigh to breathe. Shaking his head to focus as he follows after the others, going up the stairs.

As the turtles leave, they don't notice that someone is following them. Ghostbear who giggles slyly and tiptoes up the stairs after them.

-----

The group made it back to the ferry docks, hopping on ship and towards their turtle tank that they left.

"Okay, I'm up, I'm up. Ready? If Halley's comet and improvisational comedy had a kid with a mysterious superstar's leather jacket, that is me."

Donnie gave a slight dramatic pose at his vision. Adriaen and Leo just stared at Donnie, unimpressed but didn’t say anything about it as they knew how strange he could be.

Mikey sees a Kiosk ticket underneath the tank, he crouched down to grab it, but the wind picked up and blew the ticket away, Mikey then saw a Kiosk behind the tank.

"A DVD Kiosk! My horoscope said I would point out obvious today."

"Raph was parked next to this the whole time?" Donnie twitched his eye but before he could go into a rant, Leo interrupted him. “Relax, we're here, we made it." He cheered, Raphael jumping onto the tank and going down the hatch.

"And with a little time to spare. BRB with the DVD BROses?”

Adriaen tilts his head at the comment but when Raph slides down the hatch and inside the vehicle, he took this moment to relax and sit on the floor. Finally, he could go home soon.

He then saw and heard Mikey, Leo and Donnie chanting out the words “hugs” while holding each other and jumping eagerly.

Adriaen let out a tiny chuckle at the three, before he heard the sounds of wheels rolling, making him snap his head towards the tank, it was rolling towards the three brothers who failed to notice the moving vehicle.

”Watch out!”

On instinct, Adriaen jumped to his feet and leaps at the brothers, knocking them over to safety as they were briefly shocked at the collision, before watching the turtle tank move towards the kiosk machine.

Panicking, the four yell for Raph to push on the brakes.

"Brake, brake, brake, brake, brake, brake!"

But it was too late, the Kiosk was knocked over and breaks down, releasing a lot of DVDs from inside. The screen goes out seconds later. Donnie dramatically touched the blackout screen before they all yell out “no!” in sync.

"What else could possibly go wrong?" Mikey complains, but before anyone could say anything the sound of a revving engine echoed to their ears and a large and familiar man jumps over the turtle tank on a motorcycle, snatching the DVD out of Raphael’s grasp.

"Peekaboo Tortugas!" Ghostbear laughs, landing on the ground as the turtle's stare wide eyed at the visitor.

"Ghostbear?"

"Last time we met, you ruined my pro wrestling career.” He snarls, recalling the moment that Leo and Raph had beaten the wrestler up. “Now I will ruin what you love.”

Adriaen rolls his eyes and lightly scoffs, “Or are you just perhaps bad at your job? I mean is it really our fault you lost to people like us?” 

“Heh, burn.” Leo snorts at Adriaen’s sass, giving his crush a fist bump, which Adriaen returned. Ghostbear growls as he holds up the DVD. “Starting with your precious disc of video. Lou Jitsu movies are estupido."

Raph gasps and jumps down from the turtle tank, "You take that back! Unless estupido means brilliant! New, new, new plan: The tortoise gets the bear." Raph announces, his brothers and Adriaen ready to attack.

"Yes!"

They jumped into the tank and started to chase Ghostbear who drove off the ferry and onto the roads.

"You tortugas can't catch me!"

Leo steered away to avoid people dressed in wizard costumes that were occupying the streets.

“Ah! Why are there wizards in the middle of the street?!”

"It's WizardCon baby!" Mikey informs, closing his eyes when Leo nearly knocked over a citizen. Adriaen saw how Leo was having difficulty steering so he got up and helped him, leaning over Leo slightly and holding onto the wheel to help drive.

Leo blushed at the closeness, trying hard to not get distracted at the feel of Adriaen’s body pressed up against him from behind. They drove all around the streets before they head inside a tunnel.

"Leo, Mikey, launch the Shell hogs."

Leo blinks out of his daze and nods, he stands up and briefly guided Adriaen to sit down to drive. Honestly, he was both relieved and disappointed that Raph had ordered him to use the Shell hogs, wanting to stay with Adriaen. But even so, they jumped into the Shell hogs and drove ahead to Ghostbear, leaving behind Donnie, Adriaen and Raph.

Adriaen swerved slightly to get a grip on the wheel, he wasn’t used to driving a vehicle this big, but he managed. 

“Look out!” Donnie shouts in panic, pointing ahead as they see a wizard cosplayer standing in the middle of the road.

“You shall not pass!"

Raphael screams as Adriaen stiffens before he didn’t have time to think and swerves the tank around the human, only to crash into a wall. “Everyone okay?!” Adriaen quickly looks over to Raph and Donnie who were a little dizzy but overall seem uninjured which was the most important thing.

"I can fix this, I can fix this, I can totally fix this." Donnie mumbles to himself, pressing any buttons he could hit to start the tank back up but to no luck.

“Hey, Donnie, if you got any more secret vehicles, now's the time to be a good brother and share."

Donnie paused and retracted his robot arms away. A small box like machine pops up from the control panels, a lever with the word “taxi” written on it.

”Well, there is one thing. But I haven't tested it yet. So..."

"Tests are easy, it’s answers that are hard." Raph comments which Donnie took that as the green light to test out his creation.

"I love you so much, let's do it!"

Donnie pulls the lever down, the three were lifted up in the air and into what appeared to be a taxi cab. Without having the chance to buckle up, the taxi unlatched from the turtle tank with jet packs for engines and at great speed zooms off.

Adriaen yells as did Raph and Donnie, holding onto each other as they fly around in loops.

“I’m going to be sick!”

”Adriaen don’t you dare!”

”Get me outta here!”

They all close their eyes waiting for the worst. Suddenly the engines give out and they free fall to the ground. But by some luck they landed in front of Mikey and Leo as well as Ghostbear who all arrived by Leo’s portal in front of a video store. 

Raph and Adriaen stopped their screams, taking in deep breaths after that wild ride. Donnie is still screaming until he sucks in a big gasp.

"Two minutes 'til midnight, maidens."

Leo looks in through the window, his eyes darting to Adriaen who slides down into his seat, looking as pale as a turtle can be. Clearly, he didn’t enjoy the taxi cab.

Ghostbear couldn’t help but laugh at them, “You fell out of the sky, like waaahh! You and your little toy."

Raph growls, sitting up at the driver seat with tears in his eyes. "You have no idea what we've been through tonight. And on top of it all you steal our DVD? Is that any way to treat a fan?"

Adriaen recovered from his shock, leans his arm out the taxi cab window. "Oh, here we go." He grumbles, shaking his head at Raphael. "I can tell how much you want this DVD for watching." Ghostbear mocks, teasingly holding the DVD. Mikey crawls through the open window, climbing over Adriaen who groans and tried to scold Mikey, but he was cut off when Mikey accidentally kicked him in the chin.

"Actually, we really need to return—“

Raph shuts him up by pressing the window button, the window quickly closing on Mikey who slightly choked before the window goes back down.

"Return to the first scene because, uh, we want to watch it so badly." Raph lies, immediately followed by Leo who jumps on top of the vehicle and plays along. “Yeah. Only the cruelest of villains would drop our DVD in that return slot other there.” He points over at kiosk machine, Adriaen pulls Mikey away from the window and poked his own head out as well. He saw what Raph and Leo were doing so he chimes in.

”And confirm that it did in fact drop all the way down."

"Foolish Tortugas. Never reveal your weakness to an enemy." Ghostbear grins devilishly, walking to the kiosk machine and started to slowly push the DVD down the hatch.

Only five seconds left. The turtles couldn’t help but sweat and watch in nerves.

Finally, though, Ghostbear placed the DVD in the Kiosk just in time.

Oh thank god…

Adriaen sighs in relief as he looks to the four brothers and nodded his head, silently gesturing for them to leave while they can and head home.

They quickly agree and all five run off, Ghostbear unaware that they vanished.

"Ha. Now you will never watch the movie! Admit it. I have ruined your—“

He turns to them but when the ex-wrestler saw that they were gone, he realised that he had been tricked. “Huh? Nooo!”

-----

At the lair, the boys had ditched their disguised and the four brothers got in front of Splinter who was watching his commercials.

"We returned your DVD and now you owe us..."

In unison, the brothers all started to chant with excitement in their eyes.

"Hugs! Hugs! Hugs!"

"It's happening."

Splinter smiles and chuckles at his boys, "Okay. You have earned it." He opens his arms out wide, immediately grunting when his sons pounced onto him and accepted the hug they badly hoped for.

"I will never forget this feeling." Mikey says, getting choked up from the emotions.

"I love all my sons….all four of you."

The boys smile and happily laugh. Adriaen watched from afar, he did have a soft smile, but he didn’t want to intrude on the family moment. He did feel…off though. Alone was perhaps a better word for his feelings.

But he didn’t want to burden the others and ruin the precious moment between father and sons.

So, he turns away and walks off to his room. Unaware that he was hugging himself when he left the others in the living room.

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

A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE REALLY FAST AND OFTEN DON'T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER.   

Aww, the poor boy

BUT hey everyone is back to normal again, so yippee!

First Chapter here

Next Chapter here

[cybrsan]

Hey cutieeee congrats on ur 100! I hope we can become moots!!

I was wondering if you can do a yunho request :33333

I was thinking of request 125 & 148 fluff

There’s lowkey so many from ur prop I wanna request for but I don’t wanna overwhelm you so I will wait ><

Aw, thank you so much, you're so sweet <3 I am more than happy to write something for Yunho! I've been meaning to for a while, I have been so in his lane recently, omg.

Prompts:  125. “Here, let me help you.” + 148. “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Then do it.” Pairing: Best Friend!Yunho x F!Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: <1k Tags/warnings: Friends to lovers, mutual pining

Requests are currently closed, but my masterlist can be found here.

“Yunho, I don’t know why you are insisting that we do this. You know I’m awful at games.”

Yunho doesn’t take no for an answer and practically forces the VR headset into your hands. You’re surprised by the weight of it; it’s much lighter than you expected. Somewhat intrigued, your fingers trace the smooth edges, following the curves of the device.

“See, isn’t it cool? It’ll be fun,” he promises, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. “Plus, this is different from a normal video game so maybe you’ll be better at it.” When you make no move to put it on, he adds a sickeningly sweet “Please?” with puppy eyes that make it impossible to resist. 

“Alright, fine. You’re lucky I like you.”

He beams at you, and you practically melt into a puddle. It’s so hard being friends with someone you can never say no to. How are you supposed to when he looks that happy when you agree? He could outshine the sun with the brightness of his smile. You put the headset on; it’s a bit too loose, and you struggle with the straps as you try to adjust it. Yunho chuckles, watching you endearingly for a moment before moving towards you.

“Here, let me help you,” he says, his slender fingers making quick work of the straps. Once he tightens them, he gently shakes the headset to make sure it stays put. “Feel okay?” 

You nod, and after a few bouts of dizziness later, you have managed to adjust to the virtual world and are doing a pretty good job of killing zombies and watching Yunho’s back. You’re in the middle of a particularly chaotic fight, with enemies coming at you from all sides, when you feel a very real pain on the back of your head. You yelp, stumbling over your feet and falling to the ground.

Yunho immediately pauses the game and comes to your aid, kneeling beside you and helping you get your headset off. He inspects the back of your head for any noticeable wound, apologizing non-stop all the while.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing, I didn’t mean—”

You cut him off with a laugh. “Yunho, I’m fine. It hurts a little, but it’s nothing major.” 

He looks at you, a twinkle of embarrassment in his eyes. “I promise I’ll stop forcing you to play games with me now.”

“You don’t force me to do anything—I may pretend I don’t want to, but I always will because it’s something you enjoy, and you mean a lot to me.” He seems to blink away tears at your words, and you gape at him. “Jeong Yunho! Tell me you’re not about to cry right now.”

“No, no, I’m not,” he insists, laughing. A beat passes, something changing in the air between you, and you suddenly feel a lot more conscious of his touch. His hands are still lingering, one mindlessly playing with your hair while the other holds one of your own, his thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of your knuckles.   

You look at him, really look at him, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to take in his every detail. While he has always been attractive, it is in these past few years that he has truly flourished. He has managed to find his confidence and now carries himself in such a way that demands the attention of those around him.

His soft, chestnut-brown hair has gotten long, a few loose strands falling across his forehead. His eyes are warm and inviting, and he always looks at you as if he hangs on every word that you say. His lips… as much as you try to avert your gaze, not wanting to give into the thought of what they might feel like on yours out of fear of what that might do to your friendship, you find yourself unable. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.” 

The words are out of your mouth before you can give them a second thought. Yunho’s eyes widen, and he freezes, obviously not having expected things to take this turn. You go to backtrack, to pretend like it was just a joke, when suddenly he’s intertwining his fingers with your own and pulling you closer.

“Then do it,” he murmurs.

And so you do. The second your lips touch, it’s like something within you sparks to life, igniting a fire that has long been smoldering beneath the surface. Time seems to stand still as the world around you fades into oblivion, and all you can focus on is him. His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as if now that he has you, he never plans on letting go. It’s obvious now that this is both something you have been yearning for, something that you have been holding back from. Together, you tumble over the point of no return, willing to deal with whatever the consequences may be. 

When you part, breathless and wide-eyed, neither of you seems to know what to say. The air crackles with anticipation and uncertainty. But Yunho, never one for awkward silences, takes it upon himself to be the first to speak.

“Should I be concerned that this stemmed from me hitting you?”

You immediately laugh, flinging yourself at him as the tension in the room dissolves. “Hey, don’t make me sound like a weirdo!” 

He laughs too, pulling you close and pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it. Now,” he stands, holding out his hand and helping you up, “Why don’t we go get something to eat? Seems like we have quite a bit to talk about. It’ll be my treat to make up for hurting you.”

“Sounds good to me. Don’t complain when I order one of everything!”

He just shakes his head, smiling at you fondly as he follows you out of the door.

[cyrsed]

how do you get your colors in your art to look so good?

gonna resist the urge to say my colors aren't that great, and i'm gonna try and think about how i do color seriously.... also thank you for the compliment! i've always felt like i struggle with color but maybe i can still be helpful :B if this stuff is all super basic, apologies in advance

ig i already love bright colors, especially warm colors, but i feel like a lot of making visual art is bringing out the contrasts between colors, light and dark, textures, movement, saturation, curves and straight lines, etc., so that just means i usually try to think about the relationships between the colors a little more than the colors individually.

i also don't usually start with a solid color palette defined beforehand. i usually know the basic colors i want, but i don't typically choose them before i start bc that's too rigid for me, and i want to be able to adjust things or throw things out without worrying that i'm messing up the balance of a palette i already committed to.

so for this one

i used a lot of warm colors bc i loove earthy yellows and oranges, but i think it can make colors feel more vibrant if they're next to colors that contrast w/ it (warm and cool, or complementary colors).

the "gray" metal parts of the picture like the shelf stile coming down vertically, and the jar lids behind it, are green to contrast w the oranges and reds in particular, and there's some blue popping up in the zombie head and the shadows on the bottom shelf for the same reason, altho the blue is a touch on the greener, cooler side of blue (as opposed to the purpler, warmer side).

usually if i use a color in one place, i try to pull it into the rest of the picture for better balance unless maybe if it's the focal point. so i'm doing that with the blue, and the orange stickers to spread the bright orange from that big jar around more.

also i don't usually use straight gray/white/black, 99.9% of the time i'll use something tinted like that green metal stile, or the pinkish gray in the jar on the far right.

same here: it's mostly green and red bc i like that combo & they're complementary, but i did try to pull a little blue in as well through the shadows on the right ribcage and that one mystery organ under the green intestine, nd in the back of the leg.

that being said tho, it's not really "blue", it's more like nearly gray-purple that looks blue bc it's next to such bright warm colors. that's the magic of gray lol, it's very useful bc it's easy to make it look as if it's warm/cool depending on what colors it's surrounded with.

ig color for me is mostly about color relationships and saturation... the gray can look like blue if it needs to, and it can make the colors next to it look even more vibrant so the skin of this necromorph dude looks sickly and dead but the organs look pretty lively.

when i shade something i always try to use a color that's at least a little bit different from whatever the base color is. so in this case the base color was that kind of pale orange and the orange-ish gray, but the shadows are both super saturated & one is leaning more toward a sienna/orange (on the left side of the pic on the arm and ribs) and the other one is leaning a lil more toward a berry purple/red & i think that usually adds some nice depth to the color. also don't be afraid to add reeeally dark darks and really light lights, but imo the darks give colors the most life by contrast.

since this was a limited palette & not that detailed, i didn't worry about pulling that aquamarine anywhere else.

other than that, i just try to be bold with colors, and go for something exciting & not worry too much about whether it looks naturalistic. plus there's tons of colors you can pull out from regular objects/lighting/whatever else. this isn't specific to color, but the other thing i try to do is practice seeing what colors/forms are really there, not what i expect to be there.

a super basic example would be if i want to draw a banana, i don't want to just automatically reach for yellow bc bananas are yellow, i want to either look closely at the real banana i want to draw, and really try to see what colors are really there (which can be surprising tbqh), or if i'm not actually looking at a real one, then just try to pull in more color for the fun of it, like shading it with purple or blue maybe idk go nutso!

tl;dr i think i usually try to keep in mind

warm/cool color balance

complementary colors (altho tbh you can make any color combo look good, esp if you mess with warm/cool balance)

saturation (i keep a lot of things saturated, but also the contrast between saturation/desaturation can make the colors look more intense)

light and dark contrast

using tinted grays to imply a warmer/cooler color that contrasts with the main palette

color depth (shading with cooler and/or warmer variations of similar colors)

go nutso

[gyumazing]

"You are?"

Pairings: Harua x Reader

Word count: 3,554 words

warnings: NONE (Just Harua being cute and Jungwon being an annoying brother)

-

"Yah, Jungwon-ah. Can you pass me the water bottle?" you called out, your voice slightly strained from the split position you were attempting. Sweat dripped down your forehead as you stretched your body from left to right, feeling the tension in your hamstrings and thighs almost threatening to tear you apart.

“Jungwon-ah…” Jungwon scoffed, threatening to hit you with the water bottle. Looking up at him, you offered an apologetic smile and a peace sign.

"I meant 'Jungwon oppa'," you clarified, voice filled with a mix of amusement and exasperation. With a swift motion, you snatched the water bottle from his hands and brought it to your lips, drinking in large gulps. The cool water provided some relief, but the discomfort in your muscles lingered.

Feeling a surge of tiredness, you asked Jungwon for assistance in getting up. But, you felt his hands on your left foot, pulling it outward instead. The intense stretch hit you like a bolt of lightning, and a sharp cry of pain escaped your lips. You couldn't help but lash out at him, nudging his shoulders in an attempt to make him stop.

"Motherfu-" you exclaimed, the words cut short as you swiftly swung your water bottle, hitting Jungwon in the arm. He jerked back, eyes widening in surprise as he rose from the floor like a zombie emerging from its grave.

A snort escaped your lips, a mix of amusement and frustration at the situation. "Hey! I was just helping you do the split position properly!" Jungwon protested, clearly taken aback by your reaction. He grabbed you by the shoulders, exerting his strength as he threw your body onto the nearby couch.

Not one to back down easily, you wriggled free from his grip and stood defiantly beside the couch. You placed your hands on your waist. The irritation was evident in your voice as you looked at Jungwon with disbelief. "Did I ask for your help?" you questioned, a touch of sarcasm tainting your words. "Anyways, you said it would only take 5 minutes! Hello? It's been 45 minutes already! Mom and dad are waiting!"

Jungwon flicked your forehead. "You're so impatient," he remarked.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "Wow. Now I'm the impatient one," you retorted, the sarcasm dripping from your words.

Jungwon shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly unfazed. "I told you! I'm just waiting for someone. He's going to drop something off for me," he explained.

An incredulous expression crossed your face as you stared at him. "What? Is it really that important? Dinner starts at 8:00 PM. It's already 7:55 PM," you reminded him, a note of exasperation in your voice. Squinting your eyes at him, you continued, "You know what? Suit yourself. I'm going to go. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

You quickly slipped on your school shoes and grabbed your backpack. But just as you were about to make your exit, Jungwon swiftly blocked your way with his foot, causing you to stumble slightly. To add salt to injury, you could hear him barely containing his laughter.

You shot him a piercing glare, struggling to maintain your composure and resisting the urge to kick him. "Stay here. I'll just get it myself," Jungwon declared, not even waiting for you to voice your opinion as he swiftly jogged out of the dance practice room, leaving you alone and irritated.

You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief. People adored Jungwon so much, but if you had the chance, you would gladly banish his existence far far away from yours.

So much for an older brother, you guess.

You sighed.

If you were going to skip dinner tonight, you would make sure Jungwon treated you to food for the next two weeks.

You reached for your phone and texted your mom, letting her know that you and Jungwon might be late for dinner. Once the message was sent, you took off your bag and returned to the spot where you were practicing your split. Slowly easing yourself back into the position, you could feel the strain on your muscles as you pushed yourself to perfect it. Your heart was set on acing your upcoming monthly evaluation and debuting as soon as possible.

Counting silently in your head, you switched positions, carefully stretching your muscles. As you focused on your training, fully engrossed in your pursuit of perfection, a sudden knock on the door broke the silence of the empty practice room.

"Sunbaenim? Are you here?" a voice, reminiscent of a character from an anime, echoed through the room, piquing your curiosity. Swiftly turning your head, you scanned the space to locate the source of the voice.

Your gaze landed on a cute and lanky figure standing by the doorframe. He wore a purple flannel over a plain white shirt, his jet-black hair perfectly complementing his lips, which were shaded with just the right amount of red. His eyes held a twinkle, as if they held the brightest and prettiest stars in the universe. Overall his aura screamed… innocence.

Unbeknownst to you, you held your breath, completely entranced by his presence.

The owner of the voice bowed politely to acknowledge your presence, offering you a cute boyish smile. His eyes scanned the empty practice room, sparkling with curiosity and wonder. It was as if he saw something magical in the mundane surroundings. "Hello. By any chance, have you seen where Jungwon sunbaenim went?" he asked in fluent Japanese, his words flowing like a melody. Although you were familiar with the language, there was something about his voice that made your heart flutter.

Snapping back to reality, you realized that you had been gawking at him for far too long. Shaking off the trance, you quickly responded, "You are?" The words slipped out, tinged with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.

He cleared his throat, apologizing for his earlier intrusion. Now speaking in Korean, he introduced himself, "I'm Harua. Nice to meet you..." He paused, waiting for you to share your name.

"Y/N. I'm Jungwon's sister," you replied, rising from your split position and walking toward him. Determined to assert yourself, you added, "What do you want from my brother?" There was a hint of intimidation in your voice, causing Harua to back down slightly, as if he were a deer caught in headlights.

You noticed his gulp, and his cautious demeanor only made him appear more endearing, like a lost puppy.

Cute.

"Uh... I need to give him this... Noona? [Term used to refer to a female that's older that you when you are a male]" He said quite unsure. You shook your head.

Noona? You looked like a Noona while wearing this high school uniform? Or, was he actually that young?

"Year?" You stretched out your hands and signalled him to give you what he was supposed to give Jungwon. He handed it to you frantically. A plushie. "Year?" You repeated as you surveyed the brown bear in your hands. This was it? The thing that kept Jungwon from leaving early?

You looked up when you heard nothing from Harua.

"I said what year." You repeated again but he just looked at you like a lost puppy. You sighed, trying your best to refrain from wanting to pinch his cheeks. "I meant what year were you born." You clarified and you saw how his seemingly constricted face immediately brightening when he understood what you meant.

"2005." He replied grimly.

You nodded, taking note of the age difference between you. "I was born in 2006, specifically on September 1st, 2006. I'm not your 'noona,'" you explained, emphasizing the age gap between you.

He nodded but almost immediately looked confused again.

"Huh? I thought Jungwon sunbaenim only has an older sister?" He uttered, scanning your face as if he was deciphering codes.

You were taken aback by his knowledge of Jungwon's family situation. How did he know that Jungwon had an older sister? Your curiosity piqued, and you decided to divulge a bit more about your relationship with Jungwon. "Well, I'm a trainee under this company. Even though I don't like to admit it, Jungwon and I..." you pointed to your face and the small poster of Jungwon on the wall. "We basically look like twins," you explained. Seeing Harua squint his eyes and mouth the word 'right,' you knew he had connected the dots.

"Moreover, my surname is also Yang. If I were to debut as an idol, people would put two and two together and realize that we're siblings." You added and he nodded. He seemed to grasp the situation, acknowledging the need to keep your relationship hidden from the public. "So, to avoid unnecessary drama, the company advised Jungwon oppa not to disclose that he has a younger sibling."

"That makes sense," His response resonated with you, and you nodded in agreement. "It must be cool having Jungwon sunbaenim as an older brother," Harua said dreamily.

You couldn't help but cringe at his words. "Yeah, I'm so lucky," you replied sarcastically, unable to hide your skepticism. Being Jungwon's sister had its moments, but it also came with its fair share of annoyances.

Wanting to shift the focus, you changed the topic. "Anyways, you're from &team, right?" you asked, recognizing his affiliation with the group. Harua's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting you to know which group he belonged to. As an unfamiliar face, you assumed he had recently debuted. You were aware that Maki, your friend, had recently debuted in &team, allowing you to connect the dots. It wasn't rocket science; it was simple deduction. But Harua is making it seem like you just revealed the secrets of the universe.

"Ah yes." He bowed again smiling from eye to eye.

Then, an awkward silence settled between you. Uncertain of how to continue the conversation, you felt the need to keep it going a little longer. "You know Maki?" you asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him.

Harua nodded, confirming your assumption. "We're from the same team," he replied, pride evident in his voice.

Then again, the two of you stood there staring at each other, unsure of what to say next.

You could just resume to what you were doing, you know. But somehow, you really want to converse with him.

"Are you going to leave or what?" Instantly regretting your choice of words, you saw how Harua was taken aback by your abruptness. Mentally slapping yourself, you quickly corrected your statement. "Oh, sorry. What I meant was, are you going to leave already, and I'll give this to Jungwon, or do you want to wait here for him to come back and give it to him yourself?"

Harua visibly relaxed at your clarification, his relief evident. "Is it okay if I wait here?" he cautiously asked, and you nodded, almost too enthusiastically. A weight seemed to lift off his shoulders, and he bowed in gratitude. "Thank you," he said sincerely, and you nodded in acknowledgment.

"Do you know how to do a split?" you asked.

Harua's smile brightened, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

"Yes," he replied confidently, and you couldn't help but be intrigued.

"Really?" you gasped, unable to hide your surprise.

"I'm really good at it if I say so myself," Harua said, nodding affirmatively.

"Can you teach me?"

Harua nodded once again and walked toward you. You observed him removing his bag and jacket and as he slowly eased to a splitting position. As you were observing him, you noticed that he had four visible moles. One on his nose and three on his neck. You could also see his earrings dangling back and forth as he lowered.

You instantly looked away when he looked your way.

You coughed.

"Yours looks fine, but if you tilt your body a little like this, it makes it much easier to stretch," Harua instructed, gracefully demonstrating the proper form. "But I'm not an expert, okay? I just learned this from our dance trainor," he added, offering a disclaimer.

You nodded, eagerly attempting to replicate his movements. However, it quickly became apparent that it wasn't as easy as Harua made it look. Frustration washed over you, and you couldn't help but whine, "How do you do that? How are you that good?"

"We used to practice this whilst training." Harua explained. His gaze was fixated on your form and you can’t help but feel your cheeks burning slightly. Was he judging your position? What if he’s laughing at you mentally right now?

Wanting to shift the focus, you asked, "What year did you start training?"

"2018," Harua replied without lifting his gaze, his attention still focused on your form.

Amidst the silence, you couldn't help but joke, "Yo, sunbaenim." But you immediately winced, feeling the strain in your muscles. "Why does it feel like my hamstrings are being torn apart? Is this normal?" you inquired. It genuinely felt like you were about to give birth to a full-sized basketball.

Harua looked at you hesitantly, struggling to find the right words. Concerned for your well-being, he decided to provide guidance. "Stretch your legs like this," Harua instructed, mimicking the proper technique. As you tried to mimic his movements, a sharp cry of pain escaped your lips. "This isn't working," you sighed in defeat.

Harua, his concern growing, looked at you intently. "Is it okay if I touch your shoes?" he asked, meeting your gaze.

His eyes seemed to hold a mesmerizing power over you, and you found yourself nodding unconsciously. It felt as if time stood still as Harua gently adjusted your left foot.

Dugdug.

Dugdug.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and a smile began to creep across your face. Harua's touch and the intensity of his gaze had left you feeling exhilarated, a warmth spreading through your body. You were momentarily lost in the moment, captivated by his presence.

Suddenly, Harua's voice snapped you back to reality. "There! It doesn't feel as bad, right?" he said, looking at you expectantly.

Dugdug.

Dugdug.

You coughed, attempting to compose yourself. "Ah, yes. I don't feel any pain," you stammered, trying to steady your voice.

Harua's smile brightened at your response, his enthusiasm evident.

"That's great!" Harua replied, his tone filled with genuine excitement. His expressive eyes once again captured your attention, causing a smile to grace your lips too. You couldn't help but wonder what was happening to you—why you felt this way around him.

Just as you were about to express your gratitude to Harua, the door swung open, and Jungwon's voice filled the room. Startled, you quickly stood up, and Harua followed suit.

"What were you guys doing?" Jungwon asked, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

"Splits!" You and Harua replied simultaneously, the words escaping your lips before you had a chance to think. You immediately regretted your response, realizing that this would undoubtedly fuel Jungwon's teasing.

Jungwon smirked, his eyes filled with a cryptic gleam as he looked at you. His raised eyebrows suggested that he had caught onto something, and then he turned his gaze toward Harua. Harua coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Sunbaenim…” Harua bowed to greet Jungwon.

Jungwon smiled.

“Harua-kun. You know? She’s really stubborn and hot headed. One time, she pushed me off my chair when I was-“

“Oppa! What are you doing!” you cut him off, shooting daggers towards his direction.

“I’m scaring him away.” Jungwon replied with a mischievious grin on his face.

“Wha-“ You looked at him in disbelief.

Harua coughed. You looked at his way and you were hit with a new wave of embarrassment.

You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down.

Feeling a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, you decided it was time to make your exit. "I'll wait for you in the lobby," you announced, turning to face your older brother. The atmosphere in the room was becoming too awkward for your liking. "Thank you, Harua," you turned your gaze towards Harua now.

You grabbed your bag and wore your shoes first before walking towards the door.

“Yang Jungwon I hate you.” you mouthed towards your brother as you swiftly made your way out of the dance practice room, eager to escape the lingering tension.

Just wait when we get back home, Yang Jungwon.

-

EDIT: I wrote this on the plane hahaha. I was too sleepy when I posted this to notice that I actually posted the unedited version. 

[novankenn]

"Jaune Gets A Gun AU - Day 3" Zombie Rampage...

Doom / Ash vs Evil Dead / Lollipop Chainsaw

All five girls shuffled behind Jaune as he walked back into the Convention Centre for the third day of the event. He was embarrassed and a little upset, plus confused. His lips were bruised, his face red, and his neck covered in hickeys and love bites. He knew ever single person that saw him was judging him.

The girls were a little embarrassed themselves, having given into their urges and competitive impulses. They all knew they had all molested the man, and for Emerald the girl of their dreams. Add in the fact he hadn't said two words to them since the incident, they all were worried they took it too far.

Jaune: (Over his shoulder) Best behaviour. We're here to get me a ranged option.

The quintet of young women nodded in agreement.

Jaune: And we will talk about what hap...

Bystander: RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

Civilian: NO! IT CAN'T BE!?!

Street Prophet: I WAS RIGHT!

The crowd started to push past the sextet. All their eyes trying to see what was causing such wide panic.

Jaune: Over there...

Ruby/Pyrrha/Tiny Tina/Jinx: What the...

Emerald: What ARE those...

Jaune: Zombies.

The Girls: Say, what now?

Jaune: I want you all to stay back.

Pyrrha: We can help!

Jaune: No, you can't. I need you all to get to safety.

Ruby: Yes, we CAN!

Jaune: Have you ever been bitten by a Zombie?

Ruby: (Meekly) No.

Jaune: Even the slightest scratch, even with aura, you would doom yourselves to turning...

Tiny Tina: What about you? If that could happen to us, it could...

Jaune: It can't. I've been bitten before... and apparently I'm immune.

Tiny Tina/Jinx/Ruby/Emerald/Pyrrha: Say, what now?

Jaune: Get to safety!

The girls hesitated as Jaune reached out his hand and pulled a familiar looking chainsaw from thin air.

Pyrrha: Come with us, you can't do this alone!

????: He's not alone.

Jaune: Ash? When did you get here?

Ash: Been here since the start of the convention. S-Mart Booth. Shop Smart Shop S-Mart.

Jaune: Is it just us?

????: Nope.

Jaune: Juliet! Doom-guy!

Juliet: Hey, ya, Sweet cheeks! Looks like the gang's all back together!

Doom-Guy: (Grunts)

Tiny Tina: (To the other girls) Did he say the one in the armour's name is Doom-Guy?

The others just nod, and watch in complete and utter disbelief at this scenario, as Jaune starts his chant. Ia flash of light, Jaune changed.

Juliet: You are so adorable in that outfit! I just want to accessorize with you!

Jaune: Maybe later, right now we have a city to save.

Ash: This is going to be... Groovy.

Doom-Guy: (Grunts)

The sound of four separate chainsaws roaring to life, causes the girls to step back, and with wide eyes, brimming with fear and horror they watch as the quartet of chainsaw wielders charges the horde...

Jaune: Hit the music!

Girls: Music?

Doom-Guy: (grunts as he touched a button on the inside of his forearm)

Ruby: I think I'm going to be sick.

As the slaughter raged on, the quintet of girls all had the same thought. Jaune was going to need a shower before any of them tried to kiss him again.

(SO SORRY, but I couldn't resist this idea when it popped into my head! But on a side note, "Somewhere in Vale..." is now cannon for this AU. Hope you enjoyed.)

[havendance]

BATMAN WANTED FOR MURDER! the headlines screamed.

Dick buried his head in his hands and groaned. This being Batman thing had just been one disaster after another. “Bruce is going to kill me. He's going to come back to life and he's going to kill me.”

Damian chose that moment to enter the kitchen. “Why? Is there another zombie invasion we need to worry about?”

“No,” Dick said, not looking up. “Nothing of the sort.”

Damian came closer. “Tt. They're idiots. Obviously you lack the necessary nerve to kill a man.”

Dick looked up. “What have we said about killing?”

“Yes, yes, it's not how we operate. Still, they are idiots not to see that.”

“I don't have time for this,” Dick said, back with his head in his hands.

He wished that Tim was here. It had been one thing when the Clench 3.0 (4.0? Why had they had to deal with the Clench so often?) had hit Gotham. He'd been glad that Tim wasn't around for that. It had been a hectic few weeks but he and Barbara had managed to work together in spite of their recent disagreements to work around Thomas Eliot and get Wayne Enterprises manufacturing the new cure. Damian had been surprisingly helpful at sorting through the research and getting the results distributed. Then, they'd just gotten that wrapped up when an earthquake had hit. It was thankfully minor—the seismologists at Gotham University and on staff at Wayne Enterprises had hypothesized that it was some sort of delayed aftershock from the big one that had hit—but after last time everyone was jumpy. That had led to another couple of non-stop weeks as everyone was panicking and trying to pull scores in the chaos, and then, if that hadn't been bad enough—

The phone rang. “Yes?” Dick said.

“I saw the headlines.” It was Barbara and he could tell she was resisting the urge to laugh at him.

“I didn't do it.”

“Oh, I know. I'm sure if you had, you would've vanished into self-imposed exile by now.”

“If you just called me to mock me, Babs, I don't need it.”

“Fine, not to add another crisis to your plate—” Dick resisted the urge to groan again “—but you asked me to keep an eye on Scratch since he won that special election and he—”

“No,” Dick said. “He didn't.”

Nicholas Scratch had shown up in the aftermath of the quake from who knows where (and was Jean-Paul supposed to have taken care of him? Though clearly, Dick should've never trusted that) and had somehow managed to get elected mayor in a special election.

“He did,” Barbara said. “According to my sources he's gotten everyone galvanized up and he's going to announce the succession later today.”

“They can't really expect the federal government to let Gotham just leave the U.S, do they? After all the money they sunk into rebuilding it the first time?” Dick knew he sounded pleading, but he had run out of dignity about halfway into the most recent crisis.

“I don't know what they're thinking. I'm just keeping up my end of the deal.”

“I quit,” Dick said. “Someone else can be Batman.”

“Very funny,” Barbara said.

“No, I'm serious. Has anyone seen Bane around lately? Does he want a rematch too? Maybe he could break my back and make this all someone else’s problem.”

“You’re right. We could make that new Azrael Batman instead.”

“You don’t even like him!” Dick complained.

“Then clearly you’re going to have to get your back broken another day,” Barbara said. “Look, I have to get my office hours. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Dick said. She hung up.

He should probably eat breakfast. Except, when had it gotten so dark out?

Damian re-entered the kitchen. “Grayson, it appears to be raining some sort of green substance.”

In the distance, Dick could hear the faint, familiar sound of laughter. “Not again,” he muttered. “Bruce is so going to kill me.”

i just think dickbats should have had to deal with a plague, an earthquake, gotham city getting kicked out of the country, and a murder charge. it'd like. idk. build some character or something, y'know. like shoveling does.

[celestiababie]

Sniffles, Kisses, and Soup - J.WW

Pairings: Wonwoo x gn! reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Warnings: Nothing really, Wonwoo is has a fever, reader kisses wonwoo even tho he's sick ���, tell me if I should add anything

Word Count: 719

Summary: Taking care of your stubborn boyfriend isn't always easy, especially when he's sick.

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent fic, but I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated!

"I brought you soup and medicine. I didn't know which one to get so I just bought all of them....not that you should take all of them! Just take the one you think will work the best—do you still have a fever? Are you cold?"

Wonwoo sighs which soon ends with a cough as he waits for you to finish your worried rambling.

Usually, he'd find it endearing, but his current sickened state only made his head pound from any sort of noise.

"I'll be fine, love. I really appreciate it," he coughs as he moves back down on the couch to smother himself in a heap of blankets.

" But I think you're doing too much. It's just a fever."

Just a fever, my ass

You scoffed as you moved to the kitchen to heat up his soup, keeping an eye on your sick boyfriend, who could barely keep his eyes open.

You know he was partially correct, it was just a fever that would eventually pass, but this was the first time Wonwoo had ever gotten sick in your (almost) two years of dating him.

You'd think the vitamin deficiencies he probably experiences from staying cooped up in his room gaming would weaken his immune system. But he never once complained about feeling under the weather, not even a stuffy nose. Which is why you knew your boyfriend was downplaying how sick he was.

It didn't matter to you that it wasn't serious.

How could you not be worried when your boyfriend looked like he was preparing a role for The Walking Dead as zombie #2.

"Wonwoo, you look half-dead—" you start.

"Thank you for the compliment. That's the look I was going for."

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes at Wonwoo's sarcastic remark, knowing that he was just being stubborn as he sometimes was.

You open the microwave right before it stops, preventing the loud beeps from assaulting your boyfriend's eardrums. With the soup and a spoon in hand, you walk to Wonwoo and set it down on the coffee table, making sure to avoid the used tissues he didn't have the energy to throw out.

"Baby, let me take care of you, okay?"

You help him sit up, smiling at his lack of resistance before you hold the bowl in front of his face, spooning the soup and bringing it to his lips.

Wonwoo's eyes flickered down to your hand before he raised a single brow at you, surprised that you were trying to feed him. Putting his stubbornness aside, he finally gave in, leaving forward and sipping the soup off of the spoon you held out for him.

The liquid instantly soothed his throat and filled his body with much-needed warmth despite his scorching fever. He ate in silence, allowing you to continue feeding him until nearly a quarter of the soup was finished.

"You really don't have to do this, Y/N...I don't want to bother you," Wonwoo mumbled.

Wonwoo had no problem with you doing this for him. He enjoyed when you'd cook for him since he lacked the skills you had, he didn't mind you taking it upon yourself to help him with some of his chores, but there was something about the intimacy of you taking care of him when sick that made Wonwoo feel small.

And shy.

But you couldn't tell since the blush on his face disguised itself with his fever.

A frown forms on your face as you set the soup back on the coffee table. Grabbing Wonwoo's hands in yours, you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his warm forehead, letting your lips linger for a few seconds.

"You'd do the same for me, Wonwoo. And besides, I love you. Taking care of you never bothers me."

You tilt your head and kiss Wonwoo's lips, instantly making him pull away from you with record speeds for someone who could barely stay up.

"You'll get sick—"

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you shift your body and his until you're cuddling him face to face with the blankets now covering the both of you, your added warmth relaxing Wonwoo further into the couch.

"Weren't you the one that told me kissing boosts your immune system? I don't care if I get sick."

[vumming]

all of us are dead — yoon gwi nam “ocean”

requested by : 🏹 anon [ can i request another gwi nam one shot pls? (sorry i love him and there isn’t enough fics about him lol) kinda like a pt2 to my other request but they find a room together but can it be a locker room or just another room that has a bathroom with a shower? reader is covered in blood and gwi nam washing the reader and himself while he keeps praising her for small things like (ur doing so well, that’s it just relax, good girl that type of thing) and he gets her into new clothes that are clean and cuddles her to calm her down. ]

warning : cringe(?) g*i-na*m ooc, suggestive, rqst changed a bit, soft bastard

Gwi-nam lifted you to take a seat on the sink, his hands glide on your clothed soft thighs as he examines your messy appearance. Brushing a few dirt off of your face with the ever so usual tough look plastered on his features. “What exactly did you even do to get this much stuff on yourself.” He sneers at the grime on your face, wiping them off with napkins, disgust written all over his expression.

The white stained in brown and red as he draws them all over your face, holding your jaw to align it straight, his eyes that held nothing but ease and care oftentimes making in contact with yours.

“I escaped from the zombies.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his words and you watched him groan before slapping himself on the face, massaging it until his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“Besides, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself? You're literally covered in blood! And not to mention your eyes!”

“It's not about me, it's about you, doll.” Gwi-nam muttered in response, deep voice barely audible if not for the closeness that you two have.

Frowning, your hands made in contact with his cheeks, cupping them like he does to yours as you stare at him with twinkling gaze. “You matter too! Of course I'll be fretting over you, you're my boyfriend!” Pouting as you shake him—his head to be exact, back and forth like a rag doll.

Gwi-nam's hand left your face to find purchase on your thighs, the other on the marble sink as he tries to stabilize himself.

“H-hey! Sto- stop!”

“No! Not until you realize that you're a mess too!”

“Yah! Stop it or I'll make you more of a mess!” He growls in warning prompting you to shut up and halt your attack, for the lack of better word. “Hmph, that's what I thought.” Gwi-nam adds when he watches your eyes grew bigger than saucers—registering his statement.

“Then make me.”

“What?” Now that, was something he didn't expected. Gwi-nam pinched your thigh with a look that tells you something. He knows for sure that you can be cheeky if you want to but it never fails to left his surprised whenever you'd do so of sort. Even after all the years that he had spent with you—Gwi-nam still felt aghast when you'd dare show him your bold side.

“I said, make me. Of course, unless you wanna chicken out-”

The boy pulls you to his body close by dragging your legs close, growling in your ear with a slight tease, “Be careful of what you're wishing for doll, or I might just take those literally.” Drawing giggles from your lips with you draping your arms over his shoulders, a silent invitation. Gwi-nam nuzzles further in your palm, kissing the inside while his gaze locked with your mesmerizing e/c eyes.

Gwi-nam hummed in contentment at the gesture.

The ambiance seems right, despite the apocalypse, everything is so calm and deadly sweet. He lets your hands map his face oh so calmly and delicately and he found himself leaning in for more of your touch. Eyes trained to yours while they twinkle in delight at the thought of you only admiring him, and him only.

Yeahh, that's right..

It's only him that you should look at like that; eyes set full of adoration and contentment. Gwi-nam, subconsciously knows—and he tries his best to push it all back, that you and him aren't compatible. He isn't enough for a girl like you. He knows it. Yet the boy wouldn't want to leave you.

He wants this, he needs this.

He needs you.

And Gwi-nam somehow came to slowly lean in to capture your lips in a soft kiss, eyes fluttering close when they made in contact. His thumb brushing circles on your thigh and the other supports your neck.

Your hands threads through his locks, tangled yet soft, there's a bit of a slick due to the blood but you pushed them into your mind, Lips parting in instinct when you felt him draw a lick to your plump lips, biting them a bit. Gwi-nam made an entrance, exploring every cavern and ridges, leaving nothing untouched as he fight yours for dominance—shifting your spot, you find yourself pulling him closer; his lean body pressed against yours as he tried to devour you, following along your tug.

Breathing through the feverish kiss, you fought along him. Winning in the end as you get to tangle yours with his, emitting a groan of pleasure to escape his lips, hands sliding up to the waistband of your pants to drop them. A cute small plop was produced when the fabric hits the cold floor of the bathroom.

Gwi-nam felt intoxicated—he feels so vulnerable when with you and he likes it, despite his usual gangster façade that is always on guard. You find yourself bare when he took your uniform off, him parting to take off his as well, unbuttoning them with your feeble hands.

Gwi-nam resume the kiss again, his lips drawing down to your jaw, chin, neck and collarbone. Sucking on the skin and feeling you arch your back, he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction, vibration not helping. “Beautiful.”

Compliments that found themselves to escape his lips thrown to you when he saw your bothered expression.

Butterflies flutter profusely inside of your stomach, it is known that Gwi-nam causally compliments people, be it through bullying or teasing but this—God, it feels so genuine. So true that your heart can't help but twist in happiness.

With his hands fumbling to reach your undergarments before you stopped his eager hands. Breathing through the parting kiss, “Gwi-nam...”

“Yes, doll?” He breathes, eyes still in a fever along with yours. Your legs closing in on his waist when he tries to pull away from your hold.

“You stink.”

And your lover deadpanned at your words, moving away to smell his body, “Wha- no I don't-”

“With your heightened senses, I thought you'd be more self-aware.” Gwi-nam facepalmed, way to go ruin the room oh beloved y/n—now what?

He moves close to you before lifting you up in his arms, “Then we'll go continue this at bath, yeah?”

“H-hey! Let me go!” But he didn't listened, only grinning when you pout at him.

The two of you ended up warming under the shower, cold licks of water flows down your skin, Gwi-nam washing the blood that sticks to his eyes and face with a slight groan before feeling your warm arms go around his waist, chest against his back that made him crane his neck to look at you whose hair sticks to their skin, eyes looking up at him happily.

“Shit.”

He cursed under his breath when your finger starts to hover on his skin, drawing patterns and shapes as they map along his muscles.

“That tickles.”

“Really?” You giggled at his drawn expenses, hiding his face behind one hand before sweeping the wet hair that restricts his vision. Turning his figure to encase your smaller body into his. “You're brave today.”

“Only because I am with you.”

He hums, “That's right, I'll protect you after all. I said it before, yeah?” Leaning down to boop your nose eliciting a squeal from you. He remembers seeing your scared look when he found out where you hid, terrified and alert— yet almost ready to give up until they shine when you saw him. God, he was glad that you're by his side now. Gwi-nam sighed, his palm takes the curve of your cheek.

“Turn around then, I'll wash you.”

“But I can do it myself.”

“And I want to do it for you so,” following to his words, Gwi-nam gestures with his finger for you to turn around making you comply. Relaxing when his fingers massage your scalp and entangles the knots of your hair. A shampoo that is left from the sports team left there to use. “That's right, y/n. You're doing so well.” Foam and bubbles slides down from your head, the atmosphere made you forget that outside of this room is a battlefield for survival.

From your head to your neck and travelling to your shoulders to knead them, “Relax, doll.” He kisses the skin of your nape, soft and low tone that brought tranquility. His touched relieving you from your stresses, you remembered earlier how lonely you are, struggling alone until he managed to find you.

“Ease up. I'm here.”

And at his voice, your hand creeps their way to hold his. “Thank you, love.”

Your fingers laces with his and Gwi-nam let loose in the moment, laying his head on your shoulder. “Anything for you doll.”

[neon-dynasty]

On Universes Beyond

I think there are two huge issues behind the normal Magic fan whining when it comes to Universes Beyond.

First, there's the fact that Magic is almost thirty years old, and this is the first major push toward using the game as a vehicle for licensed tie-ins. There's a lot of resistance to it based on decades of precedence. Fans are accustomed to the MtG team's versions of real-world inspirations like gothic horror, Greek mythology, and Japanese cyberpunk. Throwing literal Optimus Prime into the same exact game as a Voltron-inspired card feels like it's diluting what fans already love about the design.

A side note to this one is that there are lots of properties that fans don't want to engage with at all. The Walking Dead is brutal, and Warhammer even moreso. Magic traditionally doesn't cross into the levels of gore and violence that some of these things do. Other properties like Doctor Who are more science-fiction than some fans really want in their fantasy game (though I'd argue the game has always had scifi elements, and that most scifi properties aren't as devoid of fantasy as people seem to think).

Second, there's the fact that it shines a light on how bad the demand for some cards is, and how WotC often fails at reprinting cards enough to accommodate the players. To a certain extent, all Magic capitalizes on FOMO, urging players to get the cards while they can, before they shoot up in price on the secondary market after they realize they need it for a hypothetical future deck. By making unique cards that are obtained in new and less common ways than most other cards, it can feel like Wizards is forcing fans to purchase products they might not have otherwise. There's a feeling like it's a second Reserved List, which is something that people are terrified about.

As for both of these reasons, I don't personally feel that way, but I understand them. Universes Beyond is doing nothing Magic hasn't done in the past (or wouldn't have done, had it had the resources), and arguably is taking the game places that it should have gone a long time ago.

I love that we're getting a Lord of the Rings set, that we've gotten two whole Dungeons & Dragons sets (though I think those are being treated as crossovers more than licensed tie-ins), and that they're actively exploring bringing my favorite characters and franchises into my favorite game.

Do I hate that TWD and WH40K cards exist now, and that I may one day have to play a match with them in it? Sure. I despise those properties. You know who doesn't? My best friend who's finally interested in the game now that Rick Grimes can be his commander. That's a win for me, no matter how much I may dislike zombie soap operas. And now that he's interested in playing a Chun-Li card, I can introduce him to Narset.

In fact, my only issue is with the absolute glut of product we've been getting over the past few years, and the associated product fatigue. Seriously, let us rest our wallets a bit!

Magic is a game that's always changing. Faster now than it has in the past, for sure, but in ways that make it more appealing to new players. I have concerns over how much they can add to the game before they're forced to slow down, but ultimately, this doesn't seem like WotC is trying to squeeze every penny out of its existing fanbase in a desperate cash grab. If anything, it feels more like it's rushing to catch up with what it could have been all along.

[voiceless-terror]

I’m bad at prompts so I have an aesthetic vibe for a fic: dusty library, silver glasses, warm blanket, hot tea, cold voices.

Jon wants to get Martin’s attention. Daisy and Melanie have an unusual plan.

“I think he’s made it quite clear that he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I need...I need to make sure he’s okay. Daisy’s already tried and well, you-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly.”

Jon sighed. He needed to trust Martin, he knew this. But how could he, when he faded more and more each day? When Jon couldn’t reach him, couldn’t know he was safe? He needed to touch him, make sure he was still solid, still there. That Jon still cared. And if Jon could just break through-

“He won’t let me talk to him. And I don’t know what to do.” The words came out more plaintively than he would’ve liked. Melanie gave him an unimpressed look, Daisy leaned back on the couch. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly decided to confess his feelings to these two, perhaps it was the leftover alcohol in his system from their afternoon drink. Basira was off on another lead and Daisy needed the distraction. They all did. And now they were back at the office, bored and lethargic, Jon dodging the paper balls Melanie lazily tossed his way.

“You’ve got to do something,” Daisy drawled, idly picking at her nails. “To get his attention. You’ve got to make him come to you.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon groaned in frustration. “If I did, I would’ve done it already.”

“Wait.” Melanie sat up straighter, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I know exactly what to do.” Daisy and Jon shared a glance as she broke into a smirk. 

“And Martin won’t be able to resist you.”

____________

“Is this really necessary?” Jon asked, flinching back as Melanie applied the pink-coated brush to his cheek. “It seems a bit excessive.”

“Stop moving. And yes, if you want to look the part.” Melanie wielded the makeup brush like a weapon as Daisy followed with a critical eye. “Does he look pathetic enough?”

“Hmm.” Daisy leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Jon’s face. “I think he needs a bit more. Just a pinch.”

“Agreed.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jon snarked, leaning away from Melanie’s hands. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. It’s not going to work.”

“You agreed to this because you know it’s going to work,” Melanie insisted, dipping the brush in the compact. “Trust me, Martin won’t be able to resist doting on you if you look properly ill. When I came here the second time ‘round, he hovered outside the door the entire time. “Do you need anything, Jon? Can I get you some tea? Are you feeling alright?”

“That’s not what he sounds like-”

“That’s exactly what he sounds like,” Daisy smirked, settling back into the couch. “If you don’t like the makeup, we can always go with option two-”

“I am not letting Melanie punch me, thank you very much.” She still harbored a lot of residual (and rightful, in his opinion) anger from the surgery incident, and he wasn’t willing to be the outlet for it. “How do we know he’ll even see me?”

“He goes down to the library every Wednesday, sneaks in and out real quiet-like,” Daisy repeated for the third time. “Trust me, I know his patterns.” There was still some Hunt in her yet, no matter how much she starved it. Listen to the quiet. He didn’t say it aloud, but from the look in Daisy’s eyes he didn’t need to. “We’ll set you up there. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to miss you.”

“Whatever you say,” he grumbled, batting away Melanie’s hand. “Are you done yet?” She evaluated him with a scowl.

“That should do it.” She shut the compact with a definitive snap. “I was going to add a bit of purple eyeshadow under the eyes, but that might be overdoing it. You already look like a zombie.”

Daisy nodded appreciatively. “Powder did the job. God, Melanie. You’re a pro.”

“Thank you,” she preened as Jon rolled his eyes. “Now, for the finishing touch!” She leaned forward, yanking the scrunchie out of his hair and ignoring his yelp with an air of satisfaction. “Perfect!”

“I fail to see why that was necessary!” His head ached from the sudden pull on his hair, which was now falling down his shoulders in a tangled, ruffled mess. God, I must look insane. He lifted a hand to put it in some semblance of order when Melanie grabbed at it, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, you’ll ruin it!” she snapped. “Martin likes it when it’s down.”

“How do you know that?”

“God, he really is oblivious,” Daisy said with a disbelieving chuckle. “I may have only visited a few times, but even I saw the way he stared at you whenever you so much as touched your hair. It was sickening to watch.”

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you settled. We have to time this perfectly.” Melanie gestured impatiently for him to get up. “Daisy’ll take you up. I’ve got to grab something.” Jon didn’t trust her but in all honesty, what did he have to lose? The things we get up to when Basira’s gone...though I suppose this is significantly better than the Coffin Incident. 

Daisy took his arm, leaning on him for a bit of support as they made their way up to the library. To anyone else it would look the opposite, that he was the one relying on her- Daisy was good at hiding her weakness. “There’s a couch by the front desk,” she murmured as they rounded the corner. “It’ll be right in his line of vision.”

“What if he isn’t paying attention?” Jon worried, watching as the other staff studiously avoided their gaze, side-stepping them in the hallway. The Archives were truly toxic, and no one wanted to anger the heavily-scarred, scowling Archivist and his rabid ex-cop friend. For the first time in his life, Jon was intimidating. He didn’t like it.

“He always pays attention to you,” Daisy insisted. “He just doesn’t want you to see it.” The words put a lump in his throat. He wondered if they were true. He opened his mouth to reply when Melanie scurried up behind them, her arms full of-

“No.”

“Yes.” Melanie pushed into him, impatiently urging them forward. “Trust me, it’ll work.”

“I am not-” He was cut off by a surprisingly strong push from Daisy, landing him on the couch with an ‘oof.’ Melanie threw the offending object around his shoulders- a fluffy pink blanket Jon recognized from its place on Basira’s cot. He tried to worm his way out of it but Melanie gave him a sharp slap on the arm, ignoring his hiss of pain. He looked around, wildly embarrassed by the entire situation to find that the room was strangely empty, which was surprising for the time of day. I suppose everyone’s trying to avoid us these days.

Daisy froze, her eyes narrowing and posture straightening. “He’s coming.”

Melanie swore, running around the corner and coming back with an old, heavy tome she'd snatched off the nearest shelf. She grinned, an almost manic thing that Jon instinctively leaned back from. “The final touch,” she said proudly, not waiting for his answer as she opened the book with a flourish, flipping the pages in front of his face like a fan. He flinched back, utterly confused.

“Melanie, what on earth are you-”

_______

Martin heard him before he saw him.

The scurrying of feet across the hardwood was strange enough, but Jonathan Sims sitting on the library’s best couch, sneezing into a fluffy blanket and looking bleary-eyed and very exhausted was even stranger. Well, not the exhausted part. That was Jon’s normal state of being. 

But there he sat, wrapped in Basira’s fluffy pink blanket with a flushed face, messy hair, and an ashen pallor that could only come from sickness. Martin had seen it before, back when he lived in Document Storage and Jon was working himself into the ground, much like he was doing nowadays. He felt that pang of worry that accompanied those long nights in the Archives, something he was trying desperately to tamp down.

Working for Peter was infuriating and isolating, just as it was supposed to be. He was constantly reminding himself that it was for the greater good, that he was doing something important, protecting his friends. Protecting Jon. But how could he protect him when he kept finding Martin, even though he promised to trust him? How could he protect him when he kept throwing himself headlong into any danger he could find? How could he protect him, when his biggest enemy was himself?

Another sneeze. Jon looked almost confused by it, maybe even offended that it happened. It made him want to smile, an urge he fought down as he tried to remember Peter’s promise to keep them safe if he kept his distance. He hazarded one last glance, sure that he wasn’t in Jon’s line of sight that he noticed one last detail- Jon’s sweater. Incredibly baggy, worn, light blue knit- a color he’d never seen on him before.

Martin’s sweater. And with that, he found himself walking over to Jon almost involuntarily, steps loud and purposeful as they startled Jon from his perch on the couch. And when Jon noticed him he smiled, so bright and happy and obviously extremely out of it if he was having this reaction to Martin. His face really did look flushed up close- he must have a fever, especially if he wandered up here in this state. Martin successfully resisted the urge to feel his forehead. 

“M-Martin!” God, how could he not talk to Jon, when he said his name with such happiness? He fought to keep his voice level and cool as he responded.

“Jon. What are you doing up here?” Jon’s smile dimmed slightly, and Martin tried not to feel guilty. He did not succeed.

“I, um-” Jon stuttered, his usual sign of nervousness as he ran a hand through his hair. His hair, that was mused and tangled and falling in his face. Fuck. “I w-was reading.” He struggled to pick up a particularly heavy-looking book from where it sat on the couch next to him, its title obscured from Martin’s view. “It was getting, er, a bit stuffy down in the Archives.”

A red flag if Martin ever saw one. They rarely left the Archives these days, unless it was for a quick lunch and even then, Jon had to be dragged out bodily. He sighed, trying not to meet Jon’s pleading eyes. And still, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you...okay?”

Jon looked down to his lap, the blanket half slipping off his shoulders as he fidgeted with his hands. Martin looked pointedly away. “Not feeling very well,” Jon murmured to the ground, looking strangely nervous, maybe even guilty. That didn’t make sense. He must be really ill, if he’s actually admitting to it. Martin hesitated, fighting between what he should do and what he really, really wanted to do. The cold evaporated just a little and Martin had never felt so seen. 

He missed that.

And so, less reluctantly than he would have liked, he extended a hand down to Jon, who looked at it in shock. “C’mon. Let’s get you back downstairs, I’ll make tea.” Make tea. His solution for everything, he remembered Tim deriding. But Jon looked at him like he’d offered much, much more than that. Maybe he had. The hope in his eyes was too much to bear. So when Jon put a thin, scarred hand in his, he looked away, even as he helped him to his feet.

To his disdain and delight, Jon immediately leaned into his side, as if trying to leech warmth that Martin couldn’t provide. In fact it was now Jon who was the warmer of the two- the Eye would not accept the chill of the Lonely, and the fever probably didn’t help. He was like a touch-starved cat looking for a crumb of affection, and god did he want to give it to him. If it were the Martin of a year ago he would have blushed, stammered, maybe even squeezed him back. Now he can only offer him the shoulder, nothing more.

Jon didn’t say anything more than a muttered thanks as they made their way down to the Archives, as if he were afraid of spooking him. More than one staff member they saw stared; Martin had been AWOL except for a few official emails, and was now suddenly the assistant to the head of the institute. To see him with the dreaded Head Archivist must have been even more of a shock. He felt pity- what a pair we make.

By the time they arrived at the archives, Jon had leant almost all of his weight against Martin’s side, making it difficult to maneuver them both down the stairs. No one was there, and he wanted to scold the other three, wherever they were, for leaving Jon to wander in his condition. I’ll fix him tea, get him on the cot and then I’ll go, he promised himself. 

Easier said than done.

He barely managed to pry Jon off of him, and only with the promise to return with a cup of tea did he let go. Never in his wildest daydreams did he imagine Jon to be this clingy, hanging off him like a limpet. As he made his way to the break room he drew the Lonely back to him like a security blanket, albeit a cold one. You can’t stay. You have to go. He looked blankly around the room he used to think of as a safe haven; it was no longer familiar, different mugs on the table, different food in the cupboards, a bag of makeup on the counter. He no longer had a place. 

Jon was sitting up on the cot when he arrived back, cup of tea in hand. He pointedly didn’t meet his eyes as he handed it over, staring at his feet and ignoring Jon’s thanks as he turned to leave. Go go go-

“Wait!”

Damn it.

He turned. “What is it, Jon? I have to-”

“Will you stay?” His face was so open, so vulnerable it made Martin ache with longing. “Just- just for a bit.”

Martin sighed, trying to maintain his stoic façade. “You know I can’t.”

“I miss you.”

“Jon-”

“I know, I know,” Jon replied, voice going quiet. He thought dying would harden the man, but it only seemed to soften his sharp edges. “I’m sorry.” He held the mug between his hands, staring down like it was something precious.

“It’s fine,” Martin replied, though they both knew it wasn’t.

“Will you stay if I don’t talk?” Jon leveled that hopeful gaze at him again and Martin looked up to the ceiling for divine intervention that wouldn’t come. 

“Jon-”

“Please.” He was begging. His eyes were bright, whether from tears or the fever Martin couldn’t discern. But what was he to do, say no? Not when he was like this, not when he was sick. Martin made excuses, none of them particularly convincing even to himself and they certainly wouldn’t be to Peter, but it didn’t matter. He’d already made his choice as soon as Jon said the word.

“Okay. For a bit.” That smile again. Jon said nothing as Martin tentatively sat beside him on that small, rickety cot. He would only stay for a bit, until Jon fell asleep. He had no one to look after him, after all. He would go back up and face Peter later. 

For now, he let Jon rest his head against his shoulder. He let his fingers rise of their own accord and brush the hair from Jon’s face, eliciting a shiver. When he fell asleep, Martin didn’t move. He needs the rest. So he sat, reveling in the warm, heavy weight of everything he’d given up, everything he stood to lose, and knew he made the right decision.

Much later, when he’s faced Peter’s disappointed gaze and a mountain of extra work, he notices the strange, powdery cast on his sleeve from where Jon had laid his head. When he rubs at it, his fingers come back with hints of pink and white. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together- the footsteps in the library, the absence of Daisy and Melanie, the makeup on the counter. He wants to roll his eyes, wants to be angry.

Instead, for the first time in months, he laughs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581141

[salut-imsyuka]

Kono Hanasakuya-Hime - 𝓣h𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓫𝓾𝓼

So here’s my entry for @ladykendalsims​​ BC ! Again thank you so much for the extra time darling ♥ I’m sorry that I couldn’t send it on time !

Outdoor Enthusiast - Kleptomaniac, Loves Outdoor, Materialistic

My bachelorette's name is Kono, she's a 41 years old sim !

Kono is omnisexual, her pronouns are she/her

She may seem rather cold and cynical at first, but Kono has very little confidence in herself, she is trying to protect herself !

She has a rather sharp and very dry sens of humour

The gang she was in called her « The Succubus »

She’s a former prostitute

Kono has an immeasurable passion for flora, she is a pro when it comes to making concoctions, poisons and filters of all kinds, she would be very helpful in Crimson's shelter has she also masters gardening

Kono is not gifted in combat. To be honest, since the virus she focuses on improving her botanical abilities, she barely knows how to use a gun ! (but she always hides a pretty dagger in her boots)

She travels with a female doberman called Ba, she is her faithful companion

Born in the pale and frozen flanks of Mount Komorebi, Kono grew up in the very essence of the traditions. Yet she did not want to lock herself in the archaic straitjacket of custom. Indeed, she could not curb her inextinguishable thirst for adventure and left as soon as possible her home to discover the extent of the world that was open to her. So she landed in the dazzling town of San Myshuno, far too big and vicious for this little, naive woman who thought she could put the world at her feet. (more in depth story below)

Her pumps, far too high for her, slammed the lino's floor in the hotel room. It occasionally annoyed her neighbors of rooms, young women, who, like her, were tempted by the lure of gain ; each had their reasons : to make money easily, to pay food for their children, or to pay for their education, as Kono's case. She often oscillated between college classes and passing with clients, an unhealthy rhythm that allowed her, in spite of everything, to perhaps one day, after all the efforts and work that she provided -- especially hope -- finish her degree in botanic. But she ended up in a shabby hotel room, like all those girls who, like her, had their head full of dreams. Kono was caught in a vicious circle. She robbed her clients on the orders of her pimps, when she realized that she could earn much more than she imagined, she could no longer resist stealing, not without scruples.

In the mirror riddled with blinding white LEDs, she often looked at herself to touch up her gloss, her eyeshadow that sometimes flowed ; and with a stroke of a brush she became again the pretty doll adored by her customers. In a whisper comming from the hollow of her lips she repeated to herself, in a loud voice and standing proud in front of her reflection, that she was the best, that she was strong, powerful and beautiful, that one day her dreams would be within her reach. Only, she could not look at herself very long in the mirror, her atrocious reflection reminded her of the biggest mistake of her life, she embodied this mistake. She could see her younger self  in her disguting reflection : a joyful little girl like the others, running through the frozen and arduous forests of Mount Komorebi. Each plant, each flower, she tried to gather them all in a small notebook with pages that were twisted by the snow. It was decorated with drawings of children and coloured with paint. It was as if she had never existed, or worse, as if Kono had slaughtered her childhood dreams with a backhand.

Kono has never had particular problems with romantic relationships : sure of herself and very enterprising, she was not afraid to trigger discussions, she even liked contact rather well. But it was over. Erased by prostitution, she thought, sincerely and from the depths of her heart not to deserve a single ounce of love, if not the one that her clients gave her : false, livid, she was the loved toy, but the one that you didn't want to take care of, because it was dirty and worn out ; instead, it was the doll that was passed from hand to hand for a limited time, a session of pleasure that did not exceed twenty minutes. She had wasted herself all her chances of one day meeting love, she was convinced. Still stuck in her tight dresses and lingerie, she thought she was worthless to anyone, to herself. As a result, Kono has a rather dismal relationship with her body, she has difficulty in taking into consideration her fleshly envelope, seeing herself only as a way of satisfying the urges of men. She therefore had little confidence in herself, and hid herself badly behind her make-up and her style, which, as she hopes, discourage anyone from approaching her.

In the misfortune of others she thought she could find a way out with the zombie virus spreading. She could leave the gang that had held her on a leash for many years, she was now the mistress of her own destiny. In the occasional panic sown by the hordes of zombies, she had, during a fiery afternoon, taken advantage of the surrounding panic to flee, bringing with her women who, like her, were alienated to the gang. They had become her sisters, her friends, her daughters, her family. For about fifteen years Kono took care of these girls as a mother would have done, each with her skills participated in the life and prosperity of the shelter. But Kono realized that she had never lived for herself. She, of such an independent and adventurous nature, had never taken care of herself. She left the shelter under the protection of Jolynn, a young woman who had followed her when she ran away from her gang. Jolynn, like all these girls, was a former prostitute, unlike Kono, she had warm blood, but Konno was sure that it would serve the protection of the shelter, she had blind confidence in the young woman ; and for good reason, they had a truly merging relationship. That’s how she went out on the roads to discover herself. Deep down, Kono was just a human, but she was about 40 years old, it was now or never. (btw I’d like to add that I am aware that sex workers aren’t always forced to do their jobs (there isn’t always a pimp behind), it was only the turn I wanted Kono’s story to take. I fully support sex workers ♥)

[justletmeplayminecraft]

So um. I saw the dialing thing and the line “never speak of this again” with Scar and Mumbo or smth? I dunno I just really liked their dynamic together in their recent eps and I’m super interested in what you’d do with this :D

i couldn't resist the urge to write some fluff with these idiots. based in a future where mumbo's base is fully operational, here's ~1.7k words of mumbo & scar desperately trying to share their single braincell. i hope you enjoy !!

Of all the stupid things Mumbo has done this season, he did not expect getting trapped in his own base to join that list. But, here he is, in his pitch black storage room, in a smaller yet cobblestone and dirt shelter. Trapped for the foreseeable future as he frantically scrolls through his communicator to see if any other hermits are online. It's embarrassing. Absolutely and utterly embarrassing. And the worst thing is, he should have been able to see it coming!

There are reasons he's part of the one braincell squad. Several, in fact, but this moment has to be up there in his top ten.

On the other side of the wall, a zombie groans too close for comfort. He's sitting on grassy ground in a one block space, with only the light of his communicator for comfort. His stuff is going to de-spawn at this rate. This is terrible. Why is nobody else online? Usually there's at least a few others around at this time of day!

<GoodTimeWithScar joined the game>

Ah. Mumbo's not sure if he should be relieved or kiss his items goodbye. Maybe both. He sighs, fingers already moving to send a message.

<MumboJumbo> scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> Mumbo! Good morning!

<MumboJumbo> i need your help

<GoodTimeWithScar> Oh?

<MumboJumbo> could you come to my base? with a golden apple please?

<MumboJumbo> i promise i will pay you back but im in a bit of a pickle

<GoodTimeWithScar> The great Mumbo needs my help?

<GoodTimeWithScar> What do you even need a golden apple for? Just a normal one, right?

<MumboJumbo> second question, yes

<MumboJumbo> first question, my base died with me trapped in my storage room and it needs feeding to revive it

<GoodTimeWithScar> You know maybe I shouldn't have asked.

<GoodTimeWithScar> I'm on my way. Call?

<MumboJumbo> thatll work.

Mumbo leans his head against cobble, navigating through Scar's contact until he's able to find the call icon. He takes a deep breath, thankful for the good connection across the server. What would he do if he couldn't contact anybody down here? Cry, probably. Die a lot. His communicator dials, then rings for two seconds. Two seconds too long, if you ask him.

"Mumbo!" Scar's voice is accompanied by the explosion of a rocket, wind crackling through the call. Mumbo sighs in relief.

"Scar you are a... sound for sore ears?" Scar laughs, and Mumbo can't help a small giggle in response. He moves to his headphones, hoping to block out the mobs filling his storage room. Why did he think this was a good idea for a base?

"Okay, Mumbo, you're going to have to guide me through what I need to do here." It's strange to hear Scar so straight forward, honestly. His voice still holds that light-hearted note in it, it'll be dark day when Scar loses that.

"Right, okay." Mumbo takes a deep breath, picturing his base in his mind. What's the most Scar-proof way he can explain this? Oh, if Scar dies as well- "So, on the outside of my base, there should be these big towers of redstone lamps, right? They'll all be off right now. But, near the bottom, there should be a chest. You put the golden apple in there."

"Ah, in the like. Big blocks of four?" Mumbo claps, before wincing at how loud that probably was over the microphone.

"Yes! That! Can you see a chest at the bottom?" Mumbo listens closely to the burst of a rocket, the sound of feet stumbling on the ground. He holds his breath, waiting for the confirmation that this situation might finally be over.

"I see it!" His body sags with the release of air. "Okay, uh, I've put the apple in." Mumbo listens closely, taking out a headphone. Distantly, underneath all the mobs, he hears pistons, a familiar heartbeat starting up. If he sinks down any further he's going to become a puddle. "The lights are coming on!"

"Okay-" Mumbo's hands wave in front of him as he speaks "-Go to the centre of my base, there should be nether portals and a massive hole leading downwards." The sounds of movement, footsteps echoing on the walls.

"What the heck, Mumbo, how many mobs do you have down there?" Mumbo sighs, closing his eyes. They're so close.

"Are all of the lights on?" He checks.

"Well, it's lit up. I can see your chests, and I think that's your stuff? Jeez, if I knew I was going to need to fight I would've been more prepared."

"How bad is it?" The high hum from Scar is a pretty good answer.

"Could be better." He hears a block move, followed by Scar telling him, "Alright, I've set my spawn. I'm gonna try to snipe them." Mumbo leans forward, awkwardly manoeuvring so he can break a dirt block against the ground. Light floods into the one block space. He can see the feet of mobs wandering between tall grass. In the distance, there's a clang of an arrow finding a skeleton. He breathes out, wincing at the ache as he pushes up from that position. He's too tall for this.

He thinks he remembers where his stuff was. If the coast is clear, he might be able to run for it and duck back in here. Get his sword equipped, elytra on, and things will be fine! He could salvage some of his dignity. Hopefully. Probably not.

"Scar?" He asks, "Could you tell me if the coast is clear so I can grab my stuff?" It takes a second to get a reply, marked by the ding of a successful hit.

"I can do that." Scar sounds distracted, focused. "Wait- oh, nononono-" Mumbo's communicator dings. He doesn't need to look to know what message will greet him.

<GoodTimeWithScar fell to his death trying to escape a skeleton>

"So, uh, Mumbo. We might have a bit of a situation." Mumbo buries his face into his hands. He twists his body down again to get an idea of how many mobs are left. Counting the number of feet and shadows he can see, it's not looking good.

"Yeah, we certainly might." His voice is high, stressed laughter escaping him with his face pressed into the dirt. "What do we do now!" Scar's bubbling giggles are accompanied by the scramble of feet across stone.

"Um, die a bunch?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's arms give up and he falls into a heap. His shoulders shake with his own giggles, the two in harmony over the call.

"Maybe it's a good thing nobody else is on."

Scar has to wait for his laughter to die down to speak, "I bet I'll die less than you." Mumbo smirks.

"You're on."

-

About half an hour later, Mumbo is sorting his stuff whilst Scar scrolls through their death messages. He's bruised all over, has collected a few scratches from loose arrows, but it looks like all of his items are here. This has gone better than he expected. He still wants to crawl into bed and never get out again.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I've won," Scar announces, looking up from his communicator with a pleased grin. Mumbo makes a noise, pulling up his own screen.

"Absolutely not. There's no way, you died so many times!"

"Yeah, but I died eight times. You died ten." Honestly, he's probably right. Mumbo lost track after death three. Everything blurred into a mess of sprinting off the bed to get his items, picking up half of them, maybe getting a swing or two, dying. And then repeat that apparently ten times.

He sighs as he finishes counting up the deaths. Scar did indeed win. He puts the last of his items in the right slots, leaving the rest to the sorting system. Finding his bed, he flops onto it. Scar is sitting on the stone centre beaming at him. The cut on his forehead is barely healing up, a bruise on his cheek.

"No, no. I want to know exactly how you ended up in this position." He's leaning forward, smug curiousity on every inch of his expression. Mumbo shuts his eyes, whining at him.

Mumbo lifts his hand, gesturing towards his chests, "I should have potions in here somewhere, if you want one." Scar giggles, shaking his head.

"Do you have to?"

"I want to know why I died eight times, Mumbo!"

"You're going to laugh."

"That's the plan." Mumbo shakes his head, rolling around so he can sit on the bed. Scar is waiting patiently, even crossing his legs like he's expecting a bedtime story.

"I made my base alive?" Mumbo explains, not sure why he's questioning himself. He did the redstone and everything. "And, as it gets unhappier, more things close off."

"Including your storage room?" Scar asks, clear amusement in his voice. Mumbo finally breaks into a giggle, falling onto his knees.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time!" He exclaims. "It stops sorting items, the lights go out, and then it locks itself down!"

"With you in it."

"I forgot Xisuma was working in the area!" His groan gets mixed with a laugh. "Oh, I am such an idiot."

"How about we agree to never speak of this again?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's halfway through nodding when Scar adds, "For a few diamonds?" Mumbo bursts into surprised laughter, quickly dissolving into giggles.

"You know what, you deserve them after this." Scar laughs.

"Maybe I'll have to die for people more often," he teases, watching Mumbo as he heads to his diamond chest.

"I wouldn't advise it personally." Mumbo looks over his shoulder at him. "That's how Grian gets you."

"Mm, very true." Scar takes in the storage room again, pocketing the diamonds Mumbo offers him. "Do you think you could show me some of the redstone behind this place? I am absolutely fascinated by how you managed to make such a counterproductive system."

"Well, you know I'll never miss an opportunity to show off my redstone." Scar takes the hand Mumbo offers him, smiling.

-

It's an hour or so later. Mumbo is showing off how he sends the signal between floors when their communicators beep.

<xisumavoid> should I be concerned about the number of deaths in the log?

They share a look and laugh.

[starrysupercell]

Second paternal-centric piece, centered on the highly dramatic Graveyard Fam! The patchwork family <3

Do I put way too many serious thoughts in things? Maybe. But I am a storyteller.

Heavily headcanon based that I've mentioned before.

Warnings: mentions of formerly living in a toxic and neglectful environment, and a current abrasive and struggling relationship between Mortis and Frank.

Ask to tag.

~

🧟‍♀️📱 Picture Perfect 🦇🎧

Emz awoke naturally, opening her eyes, and blinking away the sleep. She stared up at her ceiling blankly. What a good day's sleep!

She pulled her arm from the tightly wrapped blanket around her and slipped it under her pillow to grab her phone.

She held it above her face to replace the ceiling as the point of interest in her line of sight. It was around 1:30 pm. What have people talked about ever since she went to sleep earlier that morning?

She began to scroll through posts, ready to begin her morning regime of giving only a few hearts to a handful of posts, and maybe even one or two coveted comments from her. (It was best to leave them wanting more!)

However, she froze in her browsing when she quickly noticed a trend in today's posts. A long winded paragraph by some random of how lucky they were, a meme about single mothers, grilling pictures.

Oh, today was no day to lay in bed for half an hour before beginning her day! It was Father's Day. Emz twisted around, trying to roll out of her bedsheets.

"Ogh, stupid covers--!" She grumbled despite the fact that she loved twisting herself up in them. It helped her sleep at night.

The zombie rolled too far one way and gave a cut off yelp as she fell clean off the bed and landed on the ground painfully on her stomach. How embarrassing, she huffed, peeved. She slapped the ground in frustration and pushed herself up with the same palm. She sat on her knees and leaned on her bed, fixing her hair with her other hand. Okay, fail, but at least nobody saw that.

Absent-mindedly, the teen brought her phone up again and unlocked it fluidly. She scrolled through a few posts and ended up giving the first like of the day.

"Wait, no," She said, looking up. She had a plan for today and everything! Emz stood up and slipped her phone into her back pocket. First up, the gifts!

She bounded over to her closet and opened it. There they were. Two gift baskets for today. One for her Uncle, and one for Frank. Emz smiled. They were handmade of course, because premade goodie bags were absolutely lame!

As if she would settle for giving anything less than perfection. No, she hand picked what would go into each basket, decorated and placed it to be aesthetically pleasing, and wrapped it up with a gorgeous ribbon. She's even refrained about bragging about any of this online, to keep it absolutely secret. Man, was she just amazing or what? That was rhetorical, of course. She knew she was flawless already.

Like an instinct to survive, Emz had her phone out of her pocket and in front of her once more, camera open. She winked and stuck her tongue out with a smile, and took a picture. She grimaced.

Ugh, she had to go through her morning routine first and then take another picture afterwards. This was a terrible excuse for a selfie. With that thought in mind, Emz stretched properly, and strolled to her bathroom.

~

"Talk to me, Franklin. You know it's a mutual effort." Mortis said, poking Frank's cheek. He was leaning over the back of the couch where Frank was sitting at. The big guy tilted his head away with a grunt. His eyes were trained on the television as he tried his best to tune out the vampires.

"...Is this still about the dishes?" Mortis decided to guess since he refused to answer. "I'll have you know that I got started on them the other day. But then I got a call that simply couldn't go unanswered." Mortis paused and studied the lack of change in grump level in Frank. Okay. Maybe not that. "...If this is about my bats, I am not making them sleep outside. They like it in here. Only Robata likes it outside." Still no answer. Mortis tapped on his chin. What else could possibly be on his spouse's mind? It was already hard to believe that Franklin was mad at him, but he was just not budging in giving any hints. (Yet again!)

"Ugh," Frank grunted. "It's not just about the dishes or the bats." He started to explain quietly. Mortis leaned in attentively with a small smile on his face. Oh, it was such a rare treat now when Franklin opened up to him. Even if this was about an argument, Mortis adored the fact.

"It's about the fact that you still make excuses for your laziness." He finished.

Mortis frowned. Except for when he spouted spiteful lies and insults! "They aren't excuses! I'm telling you what happened. You know, you're not the only who lives here, Franklin. There's a thing called--"

"Good afternoon~!" Emz called out, stepping down the staircase with flourish.

Mortis ruffled Frank's hair and lowered his voice. "Hold that thought." With a pirouette, he shot a cheerful grin at Emz. "Poisoned Apple! Good afternoon!" The gravedigger greeted. Frank was annoyed, but he held up a hand to wave at Emz pleasantly. With his other hand, he turned the volume down on the show he was watching.

"Hi!" Emz said, stopping right before she reached the bottom. She was using the railing to hide the baskets. "You guys know what today is, right?"

"....Sunday?" Mortis questioned happily.

"I guess so, yeah," Emz said, "But beyond that."

Frank blinked and shook his head lightly.

"It's..." Emz paused for dramatic effect, and then lifted the baskets into view. "Father's Day! Look what I made!"

"Ooh," Mortis smiled, fangs glinting. He held his arms out as Emz walked forward to hand him his basket.

"This is for you and--" she moved on to Frank. "--this is for you!"

Mortis marveled at the items he could see, and turned it to see it from a different angle. The plastic wrap crinkled as he did this.

Frank smiled at her as she passed it over to him. With just a glance, he could already see some of his favorite things in there, he placed it aside and stood, prompting her for a hug as he walked around the sofa.

Emz was wrapped and lifted up in his large stature, pleasantly smiling. "I'm glad you both liked it." She laughed, muffled.

"Naturally," Mortis remarked, "Your craftsmanship is to die for!"

Emz was finally let go by Frank, landing on the floor. "Oh, tell me about it," she smirked. "I stayed up a couple of days ago finishing those up and they turned out perfectly!" She flipped her hair with an obvious flourish. "You can go on gushing," she said, only half jokingly as she brought out her phone to idly glance through any messages.

Mortis laughed in amusement. Frank smiled patiently. Emz was sharp around the edges, but she was endearingly so. As long as she didn't go too far...

"Oh, yeah!" She put her phone away. "You should both, like get dressed up. There's an event on the beach later on tonight, and I was thinking we could go out today. Like... my treat."

"You?" Mortis voiced for both he and Frank. "You have money?"

"Yeah? I save up. Don't you?" She asked haughtily. "Or do you just not want to go?"

Frank gave short laugh, and patted his stomach in jest. Mortis shrugged in amusement, catching on to Frank's joke. "Well, if you think you have enough for Frank, we'll be your guests, sweetheart."

~

"Oooh, futuristic," Mortis marveled, taking off the wide-brimmed hat he wore as the Trio walked inside. They were at the Zero-Gravity diner. It was a part of Starr Force's attractions.

A bored-looking feline straightened up in attention as the doors slid open. "Welcome, Civilians!" She greeted from her silvery podium. "Feeling low on energy? If you want to help out Colonel Ruffs in his quest against the Dark Lord, you should fill up while you've got the chance." She recited in character, "Luckily, you're safe here, and we've got plenty of foodstuffs that'll fill you up! So, how can I help you today?"

Emz scoffed. Did Kit not recognize them or something? "You could have skipped the spiel. Like, you know that we're Brawlers, right?"

The cat blinked slowly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Okay. What do you want then?"

"I've got a reservation for three, under Emz."

Kit shifted her focus to the high-tech screen right beside her. It was see through. From the perspective of the Graveyard Trio, the images, texts and buttons were flipped.

Kit pressed through a few buttons, navigating through menus, and then confirmed Emz's arrival. "Alright. If you'll follow me." She picked up three devices from her podium, and began to lead the way through the restaurant. Her tail swished as she walked along.

When they got to the table, Kit waited until they were seated and placed the devices in front of the three. "Press the blue button to activate your menus." She said.

Mortis pressed it, and a holographic screen flashed into view, akin to Kit's own screen at her podium. He laughed. "This is spectacular! We should add a horror-themed restaurant to our section. It would be a hit!" Mortis exclaimed. "What say you two?"

"Ooh, that'd be sooo cute! I can run it." Emz said.

Frank grunted, and pressed the menu button. It didn't spring to life like Mortis' did, so he pressed it again, and then once more even rougher. It broke under his strength.

"Oh," Kit reached over. "Sorry about that. You can hand me the pieces, and I'll get you a replacement menu. I'll be right back." Frank did so, a bit embarrassed.

As soon as Kit was out of earshot, Emz laughed. "Our place won't have cheap stuff like here though."

Mortis grinned. Frank was less than amused and gave a shrug. It was simply an accident, and they shouldn't be rude about it.

Kit returned and activated the device before handing it to Frank. "Here you go. While you look through that, what can I get for you to drink?" She asked, readying a tablet.

"I'll have a peach iced tea." Emz told Kit.

"I'll have a glass of Merlot." The mortician decided.

Great. Now he'd have to drive. Frank rolled his eyes, and looked through the sodas.

Mortis looked over at him. "What would you like, Franklin?"

After eyeing the selections, he pointed out his choice. Mortis made a face and looked at Kit. "He'll just have a Coke."

"Okay. I'll get that to you. A waiter will be right out to get the rest of your order." Kit said. She departed from the table.

Emz hummed and stood up. "I'll be right back. Remember- order whatever you want! I'm paying." She reminded, smoothing out the cute dress she wore and then walking off towards the restroom.

Mortis watched her go, and then moved aside the menu device.

"Okay, Franklin. Let's talk." he interlocked his fingers like this was a business deal.

Frank ignored him, swiping through the menu.

"This is a fancier restaraunt. Emz is treating us, and you can tell how important this is to her, can't you? I hope you do."

Mortis paused for any telling gesture or expression, but Franklin remained quiet. The mortician continued. "Well, it'd be great if you'd drop the pettiness, if only for tonight. This is between us, not Emz."

Frank glowered at Mortis. Pettiness? Him? The big guy shoved aside the device now. He was tired of Mortis' tone and habits and everything.

"Don't even think of causing a scene here, Franklin," Mortis tensed up. "Think about Emz!" Frank frowned.

"Here are your drinks, Sirs." the black cat returned. She either didn't notice or chose to ignore the quiet tension at the table as she put the drinks down and then left.

Frank grumpily put his face in his hand. "Fine. But you're being a dick." Frank said.

Mortis was offended. "How!?" He asked indignantly.

"Drinking without even asking me, nitpicking what I want, and those are on top of the bats and dishes. And I bet you're ready with some excuse now too." Frank listed.

Mortis clamped his mouth shut. He was going to point out that it was only one, and that plain old coke at a more fancy place, really? But, that would just prove Franklin right. "Well," he struggled on what to say for only a second before finding a string. "You always keep things to yourself! How am I supposed to guess what you're thinking? You wait and get mad and then out of the blue, you just attack me!"

Frank furrowed his brows and looked aside, feeling a bit guilty.

"Hey!" Emz arrived and sat down, and scooched up in her chair. "You guys are being an itty bitty loud, you know? I'm sure you don't want people staring."

"Uhh..." Mortis said. "I suppose not. So... Franklin." He said awkwardly, trying to think of some different topic. "I think... our Brawl Ball strategy should change." He sighed, disappointed in himself. How weak of a subject.

Emz was puzzled and looked like she wanted to say something. So, of course, she did voice her thoughts. "Weren't you guys talking about, like being mad or whatever?"

"No....?" Mortis said. "Nobody's mad here. Am I right, Franklin?"

"Uh. Yeah." The big guy shrugged.

Emz pursed her lips. "Right... So this afternoon too?"

Mortis gave a tight smile. "This afternoon?" He pretended.

Emz was merciless in completely demolishing this lie. "This morning, when I walked downstairs, Frank was on the couch with the T.V. on. It wasn't muted, even though you were beside him presumably chatting. That's some weirdo way to talk if you weren't mad at someone." She said, matter-of-factly. "You think I don't know body language?"

"...." Mortis was stunned. Frank laughed at the absurdity. She had guessed it perfectly!

Emz crossed her arms though. She waited for Frank's chuckle to die down. "So, what gives? You two are going to start lying to me all of a sudden?" She looked between the two, waiting impatiently for an answer.

".....No." Mortis said finally.

"Then?"

The vampire faltered. "It's just that... well, you know. The discussions Frank and I gave, ah, doesn't have to do with you? So... why involve you?" Mortis managed.

"Okay? But, like, why lie about it." She repeated. She had an inkling about it now, given both of their awkward glances and fidgets. Her sharp tone softened, and she sighed inaudibly. Guess it was sappy truth time.

She looked down at the table, focused on the closed menu device. "I know you two argue. Like. Duh. That's normal. And, I'm guessing that you want to pretend like everything's peachy because you don't want to remind me of... well, you know who already!" She shook her head. "But I'm okay, really. I actually wake up on my own and not from endless yelling, and I'm not picked up hours late from wherever because you never agreed on whose turn it is to pick me up.." Emz paused, feeling quite at unease from sharing this, but pushed through. This was just another step at breaking her own tough shell. "What I'm trying to say is, simply arguing isn't going to remind me of my 'parents.' You two are leagues better, okay? I know you actually care about me. So you dont have to lie to me. Bicker and argue all day until your jaws fall off. You wouldn't be my Uncle Mortis and Frank without it." She smiled up at them.

Mortis had his upper face covered, just about already to cry. "Emz... I don't know what to even say..."

Frank leaned to her and gave her a kiss on her head. "It means a lot, sweetheart..." he said genuinely. Maybe he still had things to learn... He glanced over at Mortis who happened to look up then from his heartfelt pause. "I think I speak for the both of us."

They exchanged a soft smile.

"How about a picture?" Emz asked as she held her phone up.

"That sounds grand," Mortis sighed contentedly. Frank nodded with a smile.

The graveyard family bunched in together to fit into Emz's screen that she held up for all of them. On their way to posing for the perfect picture, their glasses were knocked down. The mixture of the three drinks short-circuited the menus, stained the white tablecloth and started to drip on the floor. Kit was walking by at that moment to check on another table when she saw the damage. That troublemaking team. Her tail swished around dangerously. She pulled a communicator out of her pocket and held it up to talk into it. She never took her eyes off of the Graveyard Trio. "Colonel Ruffs. This is MerXanary Special Agent Kit. Over."

"Roger!" He answered. There were squeaks in the background. No doubt the new Private was fooling around.

"There's Brawlers here giving me trouble. I'm requesting backup at the Zero-Gravity Diner. I'm going in now. Over."

"Willco." Colonel Ruffs confirmed. Kit pocketed her radio transmitter, and readied to Brawl.

Emz's camera flashed, capturing the moment.

[solicuttle]

Toritsuka’s Guide To Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Blood, Violence

Characters: Most of the cast

A very, very self-indulgent zombie apocalypse themed post. Not sure if I’m going to add a reader to this?

The world goes to shit when Toritsuka is getting his first (willing) kiss.  He hasn’t seen her face yet but any girl who doesn’t run away at “hey cutie wanna smooch me?” must be beautiful.

She doesn’t seem to dislike the idea of kissing or start screaming bloody murder the minute Toritsuka leans in. It’s not as picture perfect as he thought his first kiss would’ve been-- kissing under the bleachers after skipping graduation is hardly scenic but Toritsuka’s a wise man, it would be dumb to waste this opportunity.

She’s close, so close he can feel the puffs of her breath on his face and—holy shit her breath stinks. Toritsuka stumbles back with a groan, hand clamping over his mouth to resist the urge to vomit. It takes less than two seconds to stand back up (leaning away from our first kiss is douche behavior) and he’s ready to apologize (and offer a few mints to her), “I’m so sorry—” he steps back to avoid the obvious slap he might receive; Toritsuka looks up – half of her face is a sickly green, and there’s a gaping hole where her eye should be.

He vomits on her shoe. And then runs, screaming bloody murder.

Toritsuka’s feet take him back to the school, because where else would he go?! Home is too dangerous, what if he runs into another not-cute-girl who wants to kill kiss him? He bursts into the gym – or well he tries, but Hairo’s blocking the way. The red head is built like a tank, and he refuses to budge, “What the fuck? Let me in, I’m going to be sick—”

At his words, a loud sob breaks through the room. Toritsuka stops his panic-induced struggling and turns towards the sound. It’s Teruhashi, this is a sight he never thought he’d see, but she’s curled into the corner, crying. Still as beautiful, but she’s crying. Mera and Yumehara sit next to her, Mera eating a packet of biscuits with vigor but the distress on her face is clear. Yumehara is staring blankly into the wall, scratching her arms vacantly. The blue graduation dress she’d spent ages gushing about is dirty and tattered.

The lights are flickering – they’d been working perfectly fine when Toritsuka had left from boredom – and whenever it swings and creaks it elicits another round of hushed sobs. Any words Toritsuka has dies on his throat, he goes lax in Hairo’s hold.

“Have you been bitten or scratched?”

The words come from Nendou, the weirdo sitting next to Kaidou – and Kaidou is obviously trying (and failing) to resist the urge to cry. Toritsuka mutedly shakes his head, and the redhead finally pulls him in before crushing him into a hug, “You aren’t dead! Amazing!”. Toritsuka balks, Hairo’s words cracking the tense atmosphere.

“Why would I be dead?!” Toritsuka once again struggles in Hairo’s hold, the other male not even flinching as he slams the doors shut. “Answer the question? Did the teachers find out I left after I received my diploma—”

“The teachers aren’t here anymore—” Kaidou’s wail interrupts his sentence; at the look of pure confusion on Toritsuka’s face, Kaidou adds, “You don’t know what’s going on, do you? Are you an idiot or something?”

“What’s going on?” His words have Kaidou staring at him incredulously. The blue haired male stops crying for a second, little laughs coming out. He’s in hysterics—Toritsuka would’ve cursed him out but Hairo flexes his muscles once and suddenly Toritsuka’s out of breath. Damn his hold is tight.

“You’re an idiot.” Those words have Yumehara murmuring in agreement, “The news—the news s-says that there’s a parasite and its killing people,” and that’s the most Kaidou says before he breaks into another fit of sobs and mumbles incoherently about “the doings of dark reunion”.

Whatever the fuck that means.

Hairo finally sets Toritsuka down. He gasps, inhaling that sweet, sweet oxygen that Hairo deprived him of. Kaidou is obviously a lost cause, the boy crying about the “Jet Black Wings” and Nendou’s too busy laughing at Kaidou. Not that Nendou was ever an option-- has Toritsuka ever mentioned how annoying Nendou is? A whole real girl liked Nendou before him! It’s times like this that Toritsuka truly understands that life has no balance.

A screeching sound snaps Toritsuka out of his jealousy induced reverie. Hairo’s pushing up chairs against the door he’d just come from. Toritsuka’s brow furrows from confusion, “Why are you pushing chairs against that door? There’s another one over there.”. He points at the curtains, many people forgot about that door when they hid it beneath the frilly curtains. That’s how he’d escaped their boring graduation.

Mera frowns, “There’s another door?” Her words come out muffled due to the food in her mouth.

“Close your mouth a bit Mera, some food is flying out.” Teruhashi takes a break from dabbing her eyes with tissue to kindly remind Mera. Said girl turns around, stress clear on her face,

“Eating relaxes me!”.

“Relax differently then I—” Yumehara’s words are cut off by a low growl. Toritsuka’s blood turns cold.

“Did you guys hear that sound?” Nobody gets to answer, another growl reinforces the idea that they are going to get mauled to death by something. Sure, they could exit through the door Hairo just finished blocking but that doesn’t account for whatever they could run into outside.

The curtains ruffle, the thing behind it obviously struggling. Teruhashi pales more than Toritsuka thought humanly possible—and this is the perfect opportunity to be her knight in shining armor but any thought of approaching her ends when the curtains rip at the seams. It’s a… thing.

The thing is hunched over, frothing at the mouth. It’s jaws gnash with each passing second, Toritsuka should move, should leave before the thing tries to kill him but his legs refuse to move. Is this how he’s going to die, at the hands of an ugly zombie? Even though it’s a staircase and a few tables away from them, Toritsuka can see his life flash before his eyes. He hasn’t even gotten his first kiss and he’s going to perish in obscurity.

The zombie growls, its maw opening to show a deformed set of teeth. Mera sucks on a lollipop. Toritsuka says his goodbyes.

And in the moment where he’s supposed to die—Toritsuka doesn’t die. The zombie falls down. Toritsuka’s eyes widen in surprise, the zombie nothing more than an unmoving splatter on the floor.

“Are you alright?!” Toritsuka never thought he’d be happy to hear Kuboyasu’s voice but in this very moment he could sing praises for the other boy. Kuboyasu’s suit is skewered, and tinted in red – its probably blood, but Toritsuka isn’t willing to think about why.

“Yes, I’m fine – I was about to protect the ladies,” the withering glare Yumehara sends his way shuts him up.

“Toritsuka’s still alive?” The voice is annoyed, and immediately Toritsuka knows who it is.

“Saiki!” The pink haired male stands next to Kuboyasu, dark green suit surprisingly neat and tidy. His glasses are in immaculate condition unlike Kuboyasu’s blood stained pair. “Why would I be dead?” Toritsuka sputters indignantly, “I can keep myself alive just fine.”

“Ah? You said you were going to be sick when you came in—" Toritsuka frowns, glaring at Nendou. The idiot smiles in return, and it takes all Toritsuka’s willpower to not throw a chair at the goof.

Saiki walks down the stairs, a frown etched on his face and holy hell Toritsuka has never been so happy to see him in his life—

When the thing came in, and Saiki and Kuboyasu killed it almost instantly, it hit Toritsuka: Saiki and Kuboyasu must be the protagonists of whatever horror story Toritsuka’s got himself in, and everyone knows the protagonists are typically the best people to be around. Unless you’re a woman – then you’ll become the damsel in distress, and nobody wants to be a real-life damsel in distress.

The only path to survive is obviously to stick close to Saiki (Kuboyasu’s a muscular freak so that’s a no), and the best way to do that is to let Saiki know he’s dependable!

“Saiki, I love you so much!”

“No.” Saiki’s words are the nail in the coffin.

“But without you I’ll die!”

Mera turns to face him, a chicken wing in her mouth, “I don’t think this is the time for a confession, Toritsuka.”