#an-ordinary-roach

[yuseirra]

I saw a cockroach yesterday... I'm using that experience as an insp o<-< that's what you call "Sublimation", right..

[bub0nicblatt0dea]

[[ le cucaratcha is hurrying over to Jack's burrow to go feAST on those pests!! ]]

[punkrock-bottom]

what were the most influential songs for you growing up?

This was the first Escape The Fate song that high school crush made me listen to and to this day it remains a banger. It still has one of my fave solos but that might just be nostalgia lmao

This was the first Enter Shikari track I ever heard and they’re still my favourite artists of all time like the influence this song alone had on my personality and music taste is unparalleled 💀

If you were a depressed emo back in the 2000s you fucked with this era of papa roach like nothing more needs to be said about this one

Okay this was actually the first album I ever owned. This and Under My Skin are still top tier albums to me and I’d go as far as to say UMS is a perfect album. But this song did numbers on my mental health aksjdjdjdjhs

[myntrose]

ೃ⁀➷partners in crime ︻デ═一

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾────────────────────────────────☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

ft: Alastor x gn! reader

summary: It's another night at the hotel. Everyone is lounging around the shared space, or sitting at the bar. With a boost of confidence (and a few drinks) Angel finally asks the burning question everyone had : How did you and Alastor meet?

cw: demi! Alastor, established relationship(married), Alastor and reader meet when they were alive, reader is an assassin , killing and mild gore (it's alastor yall), a lot of petnames, no use of y/n, no beta we die like men

a/n: it's the way alastor got me smiling and kicking my feet. he got me to break my 1 year hiatus LMAO. also, I am aware that he's ace. I myself am somewhere along the demi spectrum, so this fic is purely for comfort n coping. if you don't like it, pls ignore :,D

wc: 1.5 k (1,469 words)

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾────────────────────────────────☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

The hotel common was filled with low gentle music and idle chatter. Vaggie and Charlie were on the couch, talking about everything and nothing. Nifty was running around chasing some poor roach. Even Cherri was here, with Sir Pentious attempting to flirt with her once again.

Husk was behind the bar, in ordinary fashion. Although he was mostly listening and doing his job, he would occasionally chide into the conversation the other two residents at the hotel were having. Angel was in the middle of telling you about how much of a headache Val was, while you gave him you condolences. It seemed like the only person missing was the radio demon himself, who was probably in his tower, making a new broadcast.

"Speakin of which..." Angel, who noticed Alastor's lack of presence, noted "I got a question for ya toots. How is it that tall, red and creepy managed to bag you as a partner? You're sweet and all, I get that. But how did you even meet-"

The loud slam of drinks caused the peace within the hotel to halt . Husk shoots a stern glare towards Angel, almost to warn him, be cautious about asking question's about Alastor and his darling, you never know if he's listening.

"It's alright, Husk" You send him a sincere smile. While he would never trust your husband, he can't help but believe your words.

"Well, Angel, let's start with this. If you've ever wondered why I'm down here in the first place, it's because of the occupation I had when I was alive. That's actually how I met Alastor."

Oh, maybe you were a thief and were trying to steal something from Alastor. Or maybe a detective that was on the case to solve his murders. Or maybe-

"I was hired to assassinate one of his targets."

oh.

You couldn't help but laugh at Angels' reaction. Sure, you were kind to those in the hotel, and definitely not as threatening as most overlords. He, and most people you met in Hell, just assumed you committed some mundane crime and got the unfortunate eternal punishment .

Taking a small sip of your drink, you start to recollect the unforgettable night that would define your current relationship.

It was supposed to be like any other job that you were given. Your employer would hand you a file, you would find the target, and get paid in return. Maybe it wasn't the most ethical way to make money, but hey, you knew how to kill so you made it work.

You had followed your target into the bar, while waiting away in the corner. Though your eyes were focused on them the entire night, you couldn't help but feel another pair of eyes on you.

It was probably some random patron in the bar, you guessed. It wasn't for another hour when you noticed that your target had left the vicinity.

The streets were dark, with the occasional street light every block or so. It was perfect place to finish your job. All you needed was for your target to turn into some alleyway, and as quietly as you followed him, you'd quietly go for the kill-

Quietly. Hold on, why was it so quite?

Looking up the street, you noticed that what was once where your target stood was now empty. There was no way he outran you, given that you would have heard his footsteps. To the right of you were the woods, maybe he took a detour?

No, everything felt wrong. Every single thought in your brain was screaming to run, to grab your gun that was hidden beneath your coat, to get out of here-

"Careful my dear, we wouldn't want you getting hurt now, would we?"

A cold blade found its way to your neck. Two very disturbing facts became known to you. First, was the fact that the blade was already stained red. And second, you were about to be the second kill of the night.

A million thoughts ran through your mind. Was this how you were going to die? How fast could you grab your gun? Would your employer be pissed off that you died in the job? With your eyes shut closed, you waited for the knife to make contact.

"Now now, there's no need to be so scared my dear! My, you look like a deer in headlights!"

...what?

Opening your eyes, you're met with the mysterious man who just had his weapon on you seconds ago. He seemed vaguely familiar, probably having seen him at the bar you frequent.

"It seems that I've caused you quite a scare. Do know that wasn't my intention. I just wanted to see for myself this new assassin I've heard so much about! You've caused quite the gossip, my dear. Makes good conservation."

You continued to stand in silence, with the initial shock of almost dying wearing off now. As mad as you were that you got caught, you were equally confused on just who this man was. With some more listening to his voice, the answer popped into your mind.

"You- you're that new radio host! Alastor, was it?"

Alastor's smile grew at the acknowledgment. "Indeed I am! Glad to know you've heard about me."'

Had anyone walked into the conversation you two were having, they would have assumed it was one between new acquaintances. In which one has a knife in their hand, while the other has a gun.

"You see, my dear, I've heard quite a bit about your line if work. While I am more than capable of... dealing with others, I propose that we work out some sort of deal. One where you can finally stop working for that employer of yours, and actually make a profit off your talents."

Alastor put out a hand, waiting, watching to see how you'd respond. It's been a long night for you, and you had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time you saw. Plus, if working with him meant you'd finally have to stop answering to your boss, then why the hell not. You take his hand, before agreeing to this proposition.

"...and since then, we've been business partners. Our relationship kind of just happened after a few moths."

It was nice to look back to when you first met your now-husband. Looking around the bar, you noticed that you weren't just talking to Angel. At some point, unbeknownst to you, everyone at the hotel had come over to listen to your story time.

"Well toots, I figured you had to be some sort of crazy to date smiles, but I guess it takes one to know one." Angels says while taking a shot, still reeling with that fact that someone as kind as you was a killer. Head nods and murmurs of agreement spread within the group.

Before you could say anything, a pool of dark clouds appeared to your side. From the shadows, the very man you were taking about stood before you.

"Hey, Al."

He faces you with his signature grin, before turning to the rest of the residents.

"It seems that I've became the topic of conversion while I was gone! It's quite interesting to see how interested you all are in with me and my dear's meeting."

The hint of annoyance in his voice was entertaining, to say the least. You place a hand on his shoulder, barely hovering above it.

"Aww, come of Al! They just wanted to hear how we first met! Besides, it's a fun story to tell."

"If "fun" means almost killing ya for the first time, I'd hate to know what you guys did when you started dating-" "Shut up Angel!"

You answer a few questions that were asked before everyone eventually returned back to their previous endeavors. Husk and Angel eventually sit around with the others in the common room, leaving just you and Alastor at the bar.

"It's kinda funny, now that I look back at it."

Alastor doesn't say anything, promoting you to continue.

"That night, I almost turned down that job. I was painfully tired, and all I wanted to do was go home. It's crazy to think that we wouldn't have met had I not pushed myself to take the job."

Anyone who knew Alastor would know that him asking for a partnership was simply outlandish. Hell, Alastor himself questioned why he was seeking you out in the first place.

No, underneath he knew. He knew from the first time he saw you. It was a different time from when you both officially met. When he saw you, someone so seemingly innocent, skillfully take down a man twice your size, he knew that he had to meet you.

"Well, mon chéri, it's good that you did."

[joelslegalwhre]

Thank you sm! And thanks for the request love, i hope you like it <3

Destiny

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.5k

summary⁀➷ Geralt finds you injured in the woods (more in the ask)

warnings⁀➷ soft!geralt, fluff, mention of blood and injuries, swearing (only once tho), use of y/n once

a/n⁀➷ As always, tell me if I missed a warning please!

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

You had expected this day to be different. You were supposed to help your uncle and learn more about herbology so that one day, you would know as much as he does about taking care of the people in the village.

Not lying here, on the slightly damp forest ground.

It would be a long walk back to the village, and your wounds and aches would not make it any easier. Your limbs felt heavy. Your body ached. And before you could fight back, you were defeated by tiredness.

Your eyes opened abruptly as you became aware of sounds coming closer and closer to you. A horse was coming towards you, on it an incredibly muscular man who looked familiar to you.

You had never met him before, but when he came closer and you saw his bright amber eyes, you knew who he was, what he was.

When he saw you, lying there on one of the big roots, he quickly got off his horse.

"Wait here, Roach." he told the horse.

Fear washed over you as he slowly approached you.

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. But witchers could hear better than ordinary people, he had heard it clearly enough.

The witcher stopped for a second and seemed… offended? He shook his head slightly and looked you in the eyes.

"I won't hurt you." His voice was low. Incredibly deep.

There was sincere in his voice, it almost gave you goosebumps.

He was terribly attractive, and his eyes both frightened and fascinated you. He came closer and closer to you and you could only follow him with your eyes. Your fear had eased a little, but it wasn't completely gone.

"It's not that bad," you said quietly as his eyes examined your wound. "I just need to rest a bit before I-" you made a hissing sound as he lifted the fabric covering the wound. "You are not fine." he grumbled.

He knew you wouldn't be able to walk one step on your own without collapsing. As the witcher walked to his horse and took an elixir-like phial from one of the pockets, he asked,

"What happened to you, who did this?" his voice almost sounded angry. But not because of you.

"I was gathering herbs. My uncle needs them to medicate the people in the village. And-" you had to swallow at the thought of the attack.

"There were three-three men. They were looking for someone." The witcher grimaced in anger, as if he already knew what they wanted.

"They wanted to know where the Butcher of Blaviken was."

He said nothing but an annoyed "hmm," his hand still holding the fabric so as not to cover the wound on your hip.

The witcher looked you in the eye, and up close, his own ones were even more special.

"Don't move." he demanded and you nodded. Then he dripped some of the elixir into the wound. It burned like fire.

"Ahh fuck!" you had to bite your lip to stop swearing. "It'll be over in a moment." He took your hand and nodded at you encouragingly. You squeezed his hand so hard that your fingers almost started to hurt.

"Breathe, can you do that for me?" He spoke so calmly and collectedly. You looked at him again, his gaze never leaving your face the whole time. Then you took a deep breath, as deep as you could under the pain. And as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again.

You were breathing heavily and it felt like you had been running for hours. The witcher bandaged your wound and looked you in the eyes again. The fear you normally had of his kind, fear that was taught as a child, was now completely gone. If he hadn't come to find you, you would still be lying here now and would probably faint in no time.

He had saved you.

"What's your name?" you asked the witcher quietly as he lowered the bloody piece of cloth onto the tended and protected wound. He inhaled sharply. "It's okay if you don't-" you started but he spike over you. "Geralt of Rivia." He replied.

Your lips parted a little. You blinked in surprise as you looked at him. Geralt had gotten up and walked to his horse to put the vial back. Quietly you whispered, "The Butcher of Blaviken."

He turned to face you, "I'm sorry they attacked you."

You were astonished, because you didn't expect an apology. Actually, he had nothing to apologise about either. After all, the men were not acting on his orders.

You smiled at him weakly. Suddenly everything felt so exhausting, breathing, being able to see, everything.

"It's the potion," Geralt answered your unasked question. "It makes you tired, to heal your wounds in your sleep."

"Oh." you said softly, before you felt two strong arms lift you up. Then you fell asleep.

Geralt entered the small village on Roach, and you laying safely in his arms.

All conversation died down when they noticed the witcher.

However, when they saw you in his arms, some began to whisper.

„He's a witcher!" "What does he want with her?" "Did he kill her?" "Where did he come from?"

Geralt knew exactly where to take you. A healer was usually quick to find, but especially in such a small village. "Stop Roach."

He got down, careful not to hurt you.

Your uncle opened the door before Geralt could knock, but when he saw you, his face paled. "Y/N-" His gaze went to the blood on your coat then darted to the witcher.

"She needs to lie down." Geralt commanded. He looked at your uncle with a penetrating gaze.

"What have you done to her, Witcher?" There was hatred and disgust in his voice.

"I healed her." Geralt replied dryly.

He pushed past your uncle and quickly found what he was looking for.

He carefully laid you down on the small bed.

Your uncle hurried after the witcher, but when he saw you, he realised that what Geralt had said was true.

Your coat was bloody but the wound looked well taken care of. "I put a potion in her wound, it should work. She'll have to sleep for a while for that to happen though." Geralt sat down on the floor beside your bed and leaned his back against it.

Your uncle looked overwhelmed, but he knew well enough that there was nothing he could do now.

"Thank you, Witcher.".

"Hmm." Geralt simply replied.

While your uncle went to his herbs to make you some tea, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

With a loud gasp, you woke up. You looked around in confusion, as you saw familiar walls and herbs, the ground was softer than before in the forest. As you slowly sat up, leaning on one elbow, you knew you were home.

Something moved beside your bed. No, not something, someone. Geralt stood up and looked at you with a soft gaze. "How are you?" he asked in his deep voice.

Your eyes went to your wound, or to the place where it had been. Your skin was completely healed, no cuts, no blood. You brushed your finger lightly over it, but it didn't even hurt anymore.

"Thank you." you whispered gratefully without really answering his question. "Thank you Geralt."

You stood up and in a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around his strong torso. "Thank you." you mumbled into his chest once more.

Geralt was surprised, and at first he just stared down at you. You still had your arms wrapped around him when he carefully put one arm around your waist, then the other. He smelled terrible but that didn't matter right now.

He had saved you. You looked up at him, still in the embrace. Something in his eyes had changed, his look had changed. You didn't know what it was.

Geralt, however, knew, and he could not suppress it.

The way you looked at him without any fear, how you had thanked him so many times. Nothing even suggested that you thought he was the monster so many people saw him as.

Slowly his arms moved down your back. Your faces were so close that you could see the finest, smallest scars on his face. Geralt could hear your heart beating, not evenly but fast and irregularly. You looked into his amber eyes the ones that had even followed you into your sleep.

His hands pulled you closer and the moment, when his lips met yours, fast yet slow, hungry yet gentle, felt like time had stopped. As if there was only this moment, only the two of you. Your fingers played with Geralt's hair, feeling his strong neck and pulling him down even further towards you.

When you had to gasp for air and your lips parted, he still held you close to him. You bit your lip as you looked at him. Geralt exhaled heavily. "I don't believe in destiny," you whispered. "But you might've changed that."

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[harveywritings92]

{Ghost messes with the recruits, he sits down at a table with a group of them, he has a plate of two sunny side eggs, bacon, beans and hash browns; nothing out of the ordinary until... he took out a straw pulled his mask up and began to sip out the egg yoke, the recruits all watch in shocked silence, As Ghost keeps his eyes trained on them.]

Ghost: is there a problem?

{the recruits nervously shake their heads.]

Ghost: *goes back to sipping.*

[meanwhile Soap, Gaz and Roach are losing their shit in the background, they were not informed before hand.]

[squerlly]

Fair Exchange Chapter 1

------"whatever you cant receive on a spoon you'll lick off a knife"------

Alastor x (F! doe wife reader)

The Doe ----------------------------------------------------

knocking on the door to Alastors office I walk in, holding a tray with a plate of venison and utensils "I made sure to cut off all of the parts you don't like" Setting it on his desk I take the tray "Thank you my dear" people have always asked me if it bothered me that my husband was a cannibal. although it can be a bit disturbing to most, after a while of living with Alastor and preparing his meals I have gotten quite used to seeing him eat meat like a wild animal.

turning I start to make my way out the door "Before you go...I have something I think you would be interested in" I turn to face him once more "Yes?" "on my outing yesterday I happened to stumble upon an advertisement for a hotel on the far side of the Pentagram, it was hosted by none other than Princess Morningstar" Princess Charlie Morningstar the king of hell's only daughter and heir to the throne. Alastor forbade any form of technology in his manor but occasionally when I make trips to cannibal town, there are always newspapers that tell what's going on in the pride ring. it did not take long for word to spread that the princess of hell made a hotel to redeem sinners.

"it has been the recent talk around the townspeople, what about it?" he sets his fork down, whipping the blood off his mouth with a napkin "Well I have decided to pay a visit and offer some.... assistance~" I raise an eyebrow in suspicion, Alastor never offers "assistance" to anyone unless he gets something in return ten fold, I out of all people should know that. "I know you don't really get out much unless it's for errand's so I was thinking you could accompany me, if you want that is" "I would like that.." he stands up walking towards me handing me his empty plate "wonderful, pack your bag with any necessities and well be off in an hour"

he walks out of the office leaving me standing, Alastor never takes me anywhere with him. I have always stayed at the house tending to it until he gets back from his outings, it would be a nice change to stay someplace new. I head down to the kitchen, whipping it down and washing any dishes before walking upstairs to my bedroom. I packed lightly I didn't have many belongings, not that I needed to anyway, just the normal clothes and toiletry items and maybe a book or two.

I walk back downstairs, Alastor waiting for me at the door. "ready?" I nod and he snaps his fingers teleporting both of our bags to who knows where, he opens the door for me and we begin to walk down the streets of hell. demons make way scattering like roaches when they see Alastor and I can't blame them, Alastor was terrifying, his never-ending toothy smile, mysterious persona, and merciless reputation made him feared by all, its why he's the most powerful overlord.

However... no matter how scary and bad he can be he has his moments where he can be calm and charming, it's why so many women adore him and also the reason why I get so many nasty looks when I stand beside him. not many people know that the radio demon has a wife and its for the safety of me and the sake of him, even if people found out Alastor had a wife and kidnapped me to get to him I doubt it would benefit them.

I am nothing but another soul on his leash, being his wife is just a mere title. the only exception is that Alastor doesn't treat me like any ordinary soul he possesses. he never hurt me, touched me, or treated me with disrespect but as his wife, we never had anything romantic for each other. not that I wouldn't be opposed to the idea of anything romantic, after all, I don't hate Alastor but... I don't think he likes me very much at least not in that way.

we walk up a stone Path leading to a door with apples on painted glass, Alastor knocks on the door it opening before a girl with pale white skin and long blond hair peeks outside "Why hel-" the door closes interrupting him. She finally opens the door again "May I speak now?" she nods "You may" Alastor shakes her hand and with a cheery voice introduces himself walking inside while I follow shortly behind him. I looked around the hotel was not in the best condition but it was something.

A woman with a spear in her hand points it at Alastor stopping him in his tracks "I won't let you hurt anyone in this hotel you pompous cheesy talk show shit lord!" Alastor moves her spear giving her a threat before moving on, I'm surprised she's still alive.

the girl introduces herself as vaggie and the girl with blonde hair being Princess Charlie, although I have heard of her I wouldn't have imagined her to be so bright, her being almost doll-like and innocent. "so where is your hotel staff?" Charlie gives a nervous look before she points at vaggie "Uh huh ho, we're going to need more than that" he walks over to the fireplace lighting it aflame before summoning a little girl covered in ashes who turned out to be nifty.

she runs around and immediately starts cleaning before Alastor summons Husker who was in a game of poker, I haven't seen Husker in a long while I feel bad that he has been dragged into this. everyone introduces each other before Angel Dust the tall spider demon notices me "Hey who is this cutie ya brought with ya" I turn and wave before Alastor steps in "That is my wonderful... friend y/n"

Charlie walks over to me shaking my hand "Nice to meet you!!! I'm so glad you are joining us" "It's nice to meet you too princess" "Please just call me Charlie!" introductions were cut short when the wall got blown open revealing a blimp outside and a demon inside calling out for Alastor. he revealed himself as sir pentious and pulled out a death ray? Alastor made quick work of him before everyone went back inside to get settled in.

Charlie gave me a room across from Alastor, Alastor teleporting my bag in my room I started unpacking putting my clothes in their drawers, and hopping on my bed. thankfully the floor had a carpet otherwise I would have been slipping all over the floor. hooves and hardwood don't mix, I learned that the hard way when I first landed down here.

I changed into a short comfy nightgown, brushed my teeth, and slid under the covers of my bed. it wasn't as cozy as the ones back at home but if it meant I got to stay and do something other than housework, how could I complain. and with that I drifted off, until the next morning...

chapter one YAYYY!!!! sorry for taking so long but I have bright ideas for this series and cant wait to publish them. chapter 2 is in the making so stay tuned and have a wonderful day/night love you guys!!!

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content and chapter please click this masterlist

[milolunde]

Triplets Born

Like most things, I started rewatching Sonic Underground for fun and nostalgia and ended up making a version of it for myself in my head. However, UNLIKE most things, I felt I needed to draw it immediately instead of keeping it in my head.

Welcome to the stage Sonic Subternion

There was a time when Robotroplis was beautiful, full of life and peace, a time when it was known as Mobotroplis. Mobians were free to take part in the glory the queendom had to offer. They were free to take charge of their future, build a home, explore the world. But, just after my children were born the evil Doctor Robotnik used his technology to turn our world into a place of terror. Capturing the great realm of Mobotroplis, Doctor Robotnik and his machines turned our paradise into a prison of concrete and metal. 

As the source of Robotnik’s wealth, the aristocrats were left to play their tea parties and lavish masquerades, dooming my people to mechanical graves of servitude. Refusing to bend to Robotnik’s terror, he stripped me of my right as Queen, placing a bounty on my head… and the heads of my infant babies. Imprisoned in my own home, unable to aid my beloved queendom, I was left with a choice: Submit and forfeit Mobotroplis, or forfeit the life of my family. When all hope was lost, the Oracle of Delphius revealed to me a prophecy…

You must give up your children, separate, hide them from the evil that seeks their demise. Someday, you will reunite and overthrow Robotnik as the Lost Council of Four. But you must not act too soon. Cement your place in this destiny, for revealing yourself too soon will plunge your world into catastrophe. 

To give up my babies, to leave my queendom to the hands of Robotnik, then stand idle for years while the prophecy became realized. The Oracle laid before me a destiny where my worst fears were set in stone. Without a choice, I took my babies, smuggled myself and them out of the prison that was meant to be our palace home, and left them on the doorsteps to their true destinies… then fled.

Sonia “Sophia” Windermere

On the steps of House Windermere, Queen Aleena hesitated. The Windermere family had been sponsoring Robotnik since he first began the siege of Mobotropolis. Was leaving her darling daughter in the palm that fed Robotnik truly what destiny demanded? Looking at the lush garden within the tall fence, Aleena stepped through the dead grass to the gate entrance and left her daughter, her beautiful Sophia, cradled in her crib, and ran, imagining herself running with her children through the lush court grass to the grand fountain at the center.

Sonic “Oliver” Oakcrest-Hedgehog

Stepping carefully through the poison oak and already-dead pine saplings, Queen Aleena carried her baby boy through the woods strapped to her chest, arms curled around him in protection from the low branches. Upon hearing the rush of a waterfall, she took a breath and looked down at her baby. Wryly, she smiled at Oliver, who stared up at the sunset sky through the dead tree branches in awe. Untying the woven cradle from her back, she placed the sky-blue hoglet in the blankets, swaddled him tight, and gave him a final kiss before knocking on the cabin door and running back into the trees, arms shielding her face from the pine and twigs in her way. As she ran, she listened as the waterfall hushed and wondered what it would have been like to teach Oliver to swim.

Manic “Maurice” Roach

Fearfully creeping through the ruin of her queendom, the new city of Robotropolis, Queen Aleena held on tight to the handle of her basket. Draped in a cloth, she hoped to disguise the cradle as an ordinary basket for carrying groceries. However, the ornate design of the cradle could not be completely covered, and the shape undoubtedly gave away that it was anything but an ordinary basket. Hoping the shadows and late hour, fifteen minutes before curfew, would keep her hidden, she tread towards her destination. It was a humble home, its front door blocked off and relocated to the narrow passage between the home and its neighbor. She loomed in the alley, hesitating for a moment as the green light flickered above her. Her realm did not have shadows before, but there she stood, skulking through her own queendom. Blinking, she set the cradle down and uncovered it, heart swimming when she laid eyes on Maurice. She brushed his quills, kissed him twice, then soothed her hand across his body, watching as he drifted to sleep with his medallion in his mouth. Finally standing, she covered the basket, rang the bell, and fled to hide for the night before curfew officially arrived. She ran with her eyes forward, knowing if she looked back she would gather her son into her arms in an instant. Tears stung her eyes and she wondered if fulfilling a cruel destiny felt much like being watched: Fingers numb and quills on end as it peered through the back of her throat.

=================

That's it as far as origins go... Sonic does still end up with Chuck a few years after living with the Oakcrest family, and Manic is still super kidnapped after Aleena leaves, but I thought that would lend better to another post. That is, if I have the motivation to make another post lol. I really enjoyed making this one. It's refreshing to get my ideas out somehow rather than just letting them stir in my head until I forget about it. WELL please let me know, of you read this far, if you liked it! I plan to do more with this "rewrite" or "AU" or whatever it is. Not sure what form it will take, but I already have how they all meet typed out somewhere and I look forward to sharing it!

[wing-ed-thing]

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part I

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Name-Calling, Hitting, Reader Fell First, Yonji Falls Harder

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Notes: Welcome to my current hyperfixation. I guarantee you one hell of a roller coaster. Brace yourselves.

Ichiji had never seen anything like it. 

He had gone into Yonji’s room to talk about something, and from the sight of his brother’s moving lips, it was evident that his question was definitely being answered— by a long monologue, no less. But Ichiji couldn’t hear a word, not when you were zipping around the room, thoughtfully, pathetically doting on his brother as if he were a god. 

None of this would have been out of the ordinary for Ichiji if your position had been that of royal attendant. A butler, a valet, or even one of the maids would have been more appropriate when it came to fussing over his brother so early in the morning, and even if it had been an entire swarm of regular servants, Ichiji wouldn’t have batted an eye. But now that he considered it, Ichiji hadn’t seen a single valet in Yonji’s entire wing. 

In fact, it appeared as though Yonji dismissed all his personal aids in exchange for the company of the royal library attendant. 

The library attendant.

Despite being so far from your typical work environment, you seemed less than bothered by the fact that you had assumed an entirely different job than what you were originally hired for. Rather, Ichiji thought you appeared fairly eager to place yourself at Yonji’s disposal. He could practically see glitter in your eyes, and while he wasn’t exactly surprised— in fact, he was a bit disgusted by the fact that a lowly book roach had the nerve to even think about looking at a member of the royal family in such a way— Ichiji couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed something. 

The library had to have been halfway across the castle, not to mention that Ichiji wasn’t even sure if the library snail was currently docked to either Yonji’s or his own fleet in the first place. 

Yonji’s curly eyebrows creased as he gestured toward himself, continuing to talk— Ichiji still didn’t know what about. Yonji flexed the bare muscles on his bulky arms proudly. 

You held up two nearly identical shirts on two hangers to Yonji’s left, one a bit higher than the other. 

The only real difference between the two was the buttons. The one in your right hand sported large, clear buttons, while the one you held slightly higher had smaller, opaque buttons. Yonji barely spared you a moment of his attention, his eyes flickering to the white shirt with the opaque buttons. His glance communicated enough, and you swiftly placed the rejected shirt back into his ornate, hand-carved wardrobe. 

The two of you had done this routine before. 

Yonji made the shallowest efforts as you swooped in behind him, carefully pulling the fabric over his arms until it draped lightly over his shoulders and chest. He placed his hands in the pockets of his slacks, completely ignoring you as you maneuvered in front of him to begin buttoning his shirt. Yonji spoke over your head as you tucked it into his waistband. 

“Hey!” Yonji’s aggravated growl snapped Ichiji from his trance. Yonji had you by the sleeve, just about tearing your uniform off your shoulder as his nose contorted in a deep snarl. “Where the hell did you put my raid suit?”

“It’s right here, Prince Yonji!” You held up the canister like a precious treasure, eyes glinting at the number marked prominently on the side. Ichiji couldn’t recall ever seeing someone so enthralled by servants' work.

Yonji scoffed, heaving you forward by the corner of your uniform before pushing you back with double the force. He roughly snatched the canister from your hands before he turned to make his way toward the doors. 

“C’mon,” Yonji knocked a hand against Ichiji’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look at that new tech you were tellin’ me about.” 

“Right.” Ichiji nodded, the slightest bit heated that he had been made to forget why he’d visited his brother in the first place. He stood from the plush couch in the middle of the room to follow Yonji. 

“Goodbye, Your Majesties! It has been an honor to serve you today.” Neither brother turned back as you bowed at the waist. The heavy doors closed behind the two, leaving you alone to tend to your chores.

Ichiji considered the closed entrance for a beat before joining Yonji, who strutted down the plush carpet of the hall with an elevated cockiness. Ichiji gave him a once over, studying him with acute curiosity before averting his attention to the view of the sea outside the passing windows. 

“Does the library attendant dress you every morning?” he asked. Yonji let out an obnoxious, bellowing laugh.

“Yeah! And the best part is I didn’t even have to ask!” Yonji cackled in his usual boyish rasp. He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning forward slightly to narrow his eyes mischievously at Ichiji. “What? You like my new personal attendant?” 

Yonji laughed again as the two stepped into a winding stairwell. The sound resounded upward, bouncing off the stone walls. He squared his shoulders back, a wide, self-satisfied smirk plastered to his lips. Ichiji hummed, trying to decide how invested he was. 

“Retaining a valet or two like Niji and me would be more logical. Perhaps a few chambermaids instead of some creepy roach,” Ichiji frowned. “Your taste in toys has always been… unique.”

“What can I say? I can never get sick of that stupid, wide-eyed face!” Yonji snickered behind closed teeth, tugging absentmindedly on the loose collar of his shirt. Neither he nor Ichiji spared a second glance at the soldiers who greeted them as they made their way across the courtyard. “I could kick it and still get an offer to shine my boots. A proper servant should consider it a privilege to serve.” 

Yonji continued to hiss, and Ichiji hummed again. He had grown tired of the subject, but Ichiji couldn’t help but consider that there was something about your dynamic that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

“All this excitement over a little attention from a servant,” Ichiji muttered. 

Yonji’s self-assured smirk wavered as his pace slowed. He fell just short of Ichiji, who continued ahead. Yonji’s brows wrinkled in disgust, and his lips quickly contorted into a disdainful scowl. He huffed, turning his nose to the side, before widening his strikes to catch up with his older brother.

“I’m being treated the way royalty outta,” Yonji spat. He hardly noticed how the doors to their destination opened in their presence. “What does it matter if I get a laugh out of breaking this one, too?” 

Ichiji didn’t humor him with a response. The two brothers disappeared into the building, both finally tired from talking about you.

***

“Oh my god!” a cleaning woman gasped, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth as she gaped in horror at the sight just outside the window. A crowd of other house servants gathered around her, all careening to look down at the training grounds below. They muttered to themselves in panicked horror, causing more staff to drift from the hall and into the storage room to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the ground below. 

On one side of the yard stood all three Vinsmoke brothers, each donning their respective raid suits as they talked amongst each other. However, the Vinsmoke princes were the last thing the hoard of staff pressed up against the four medium-sized windows appeared concerned with. 

You stood directly in the middle of the opposite end of the training ground. Three large books were stacked on top of your head, and a basket of crisp, green apples was in your hands. You wabbled, teetering slightly as you tried to balance the books. Perhaps you could have if there were fewer of them or maybe if the princes hadn’t chosen an encyclopedia each. 

All the upstairs staff could do was watch as Yonji sauntered over to you and plucked an apple from your basket. He placed it on top of the stack of books, tongue poking out from his lips as he rotated the fruit on top of the book cover until the orientation was to his liking. 

“Don’t you dare move a muscle,” Yonji sniggered. As if he were studying a piece of art, he peered at you tauntingly with one eye closed through a box shape he made with his fingers. He chuckled again, pivoting to retreat to the other side of the training ground. Ichiji and Niji were already waiting for him, sinister smirks contorting their faces to reveal sharp incisors. 

“Oh my god, I can’t look! I can’t watch someone’s head get blown off!” one of the upstairs maids turned from the window to push through the hoard of gathered servants. Her spot was quickly filled in. 

“I wonder what brought on such a brutal punishment,” a laundryman remarked to a pantrygirl. The gathering of servants shifted around to accommodate the new bodies that gathered. “Does anyone know what happened?” 

Cosette had just appeared at the end of the hall as the group's muttering grew louder. Unlike many other servants who gathered around the windows, Cosette had actual work to do in the kitchen storage closet. Still, it hardly took a moment of her standing in the doorway to realize something was terribly wrong.

“What’s going on?” she asked a scullion, a wave of dread washing over her like a bucket of cold water.

“The princes have someone down there that they’re using for target practice,” he answered, gesturing to the top of his head. The scullion ushered her forward, allowing Cosette to slide in at the edge of the very last window. She squinted at the sight below before gasping in horror at the sight of it all.

The books, the apple on top, and the giant basket of more shiny green apples that you gripped in your hands. 

And on the other side of the yard, Yonji was winding up.

“Who is that?” Cosette gasped in mortification. Your form looked more than familiar, but Cosette couldn't see your face from the angle she was looking. In a moment of realization, her eyes widened. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Someone said it was the library attendant,” another servant answered, and Cosette ran into the same question that every other servant in the room considered upon hearing that information. 

What business did the princes have with the library attendant?

Tormenting the staff, especially over the slightest perceived infractions, wasn’t out of the realm of possibility when it came to the Vinsmokes. However, given that your post was strictly the library, and nowhere else, none of the gathered staff could fathom a scenario in which the custodian of the library would even have to make contact with any of the princes—let alone all three. None of them ever held any interest in books, after all.

 Other than Judge, the other Vinsmokes assumed interests that they deemed more valuable than Germa’s extensive archive. Not to mention that all scientific notes and heavily referenced texts on technical information were kept in their own room near the central laboratory. On rare occasions when a member of the royal family wanted to seek knowledge that would enhance their combat abilities, they would have a servant deliver a text, no matter where it was stored.

The books you maintained comprised a vast collection of lesser-used texts. From general encyclopedias to old records and files to more niche topics, most of your domain was compiled during the days that Judge was strictly a man of science and included the extensive accumulation of the late queen. It was primarily due to record-keeping reasons— and perhaps sentimentality— that the Germa Kingdom kept a library attendant at all.

If your head were about to roll with those chances, the rest of the staff would have no hope.

“You better hold still!” Yonji warned. The motor in his gauntlet whirred to life. 

You stared straight ahead with your back erect and your muscles as halted as your untrained body could muster. Your teetering from before had subsided, and while you continued to shake slightly from effort, Yonji couldn’t help but consider that you didn’t look nearly terrified enough. And as you stared directly into his dark irises with your stupidly eager gaze, Yonji decided that he’d give you something to be afraid of for once. 

His winch whipped out of his forearm, the metal wire extending many times the length of his own body as he swung his weapon clockwise in a swiping motion. It barreled towards your head at lightning speed. The horrified screams from the gathered servants above were drowned out by the thundering boom that exploded as Yonji’s winch crashed into the castle wall to your far left.

And for just a moment, before the windows in front of the servants broke and the castle violently trembled, Yonji's winch swiped away the second book on your head. The green apple and the book it sat on fell neatly onto the text directly on your hair before you were blasted into the dirt. 

You tumbled across the training ground as the castle wall dented, the accouterments on your head leaving a trail to mark where you stood. The basket of apples had tumbled to the ground, causing the fruits to roll across the field. The three princes bellowed with laughter as Yonji recalled his weapon. 

“I told ya that you better hold still!” he sneered.

The dust cleared, revealing your overpowered body in the dirt. You lay motionless.

“I think your new toy’s broken!” Niji howled. 

Yonji’s brow creased in disapproval, taking in the sight of pages and apples strewn across the yard. He glanced around wildly, an undetectable hesitancy stalling him where he stood.

“Hey!” He stormed forward, jaw clenched as he kicked a few fruits across the lawn. “Hey! What the hell did I tell you? You better get your ass up!”

You propped yourself up weakly, barely mustering the strength. Yonji’s eyes bored into the back of your head as you tried to pick yourself up. His impatience trumped your efforts as he wasted no time in grabbing you and hauling you to your feet roughly. He shook you with barely restrained rage.

“You got the nerve to disobey me, huh?” Yonji jerked you violently, his grip around your bicep punishing. 

Your head snapped back, and only then did Yonji notice the water pooling in your eyes. The glossiness clouding your pretty irises was enough to redirect his rage into a wide, toothy grin. Self-satisfied, he let you drop to your knees.

“Prince Yonji!—” you cried out just as he turned to walk away. 

His earlier annoyance had just about melted instantly, and in its place came a righteous sense of power and control. Yonji had allowed you to fawn all over him for long enough now, and now that he had broken you, your novelty had worn off. He sighed to himself, letting his eyes close as you slowly stood somewhere behind him. It was time to find something new to play with.

—“That was awesome!” 

Yonji’s eyes snapped open, and without thinking, he pivoted on his heel to face you. The tears that he saw in your eyes were present, but the look on your face was nowhere near the expression of terror that he anticipated. Instead, you looked up at him with pure admiration and a dumb smile on your lips. The complete subversion of his expectations left him at nothing less than a loss as he couldn’t help but stare while you blabbered on about how amazing you thought he was. 

—“considering the width of the cable, the damage amounted to a force of equal magnitude to your highness’s strike—!” 

Yonji shook his head as if the physical motion would reset his thoughts. His hand came up to his forehead as he cringed into his glove. And with a motion of dismissal, Yonji turned away from you once again.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Just pick all this stuff up…” You didn’t need to be told twice. You grabbed your basket, ready to chase all the apples around the training ground. 

Just as you were about to reach for your first one, Niji kicked it into a nearby shrub.

“On your hands and knees. You can collect these with your mouth,” Niji taunted. He toyed with another one under his shoe, and lining it up with the side of his boot, he kicked it up into the air and right into the side of your head. “Fetch, doggie.”

“You better pick ‘em up quickly and get those books back on your head, library roach,” Ichiji gruffed. His red light energy glinted, sparking threateningly around his form. “We’re not done with you yet.”

***

Yonji eventually sent you to the medical ward. Although he immensely enjoyed looking at the nasty scapes and bruises that marred your skin, he considered the dirt and blood unsightly. So, when the Vinsmoke family was to be having dinner, you were given strict instructions to make yourself presentable and bring an extra helping of dessert back to Yonji’s quarters.

By the time you arrived, the kitchen was just beginning to wind down, having already presented the royal family with their courses. Cosette nearly jumped when she spotted you just inside the kitchen’s entrance, sputtering out a few more directions to her staff before making a beeline to you. Despite your refreshed uniform, Cosette’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tech bandages that littered your body. 

“Oh my god, you’re alive! Are you okay?” She ran up to you, placing her hands on your cheeks to inspect your head. (Your face was miraculously devoid of damage.) Having seen most of what you had gone through today, her question was clearly rhetorical: “Are you hurt? What are you doing here?” 

You took Cosette’s hands in your own. With the library always being so far away from the main parts of the castle and Cosette’s promotion to head chef, the two of you hardly saw each other anymore. And after what she had witnessed just a few hours prior, she worried about what had happened during the time and distance you had been apart. 

“Prince Yonji sent me to bring back dessert,” you answered, returning your attention to Cosette’s widened eyes. “Do you happen to have any cake?”

Cosette couldn’t help but recoil, hands hovering hesitantly between you. A cleaning boy passed through the tight space where you and Cosette stood. She pulled you out of the way as dirty water from a dish splashed the floor. 

She opened her mouth to address the servant, but your question blocked out any focus she had on kitchen affairs. Cosette blinked a few times as if your words would make sense. Your name crawled from her lips in confusion and concern. 

“What happened to the library?” she opted to ask. The crease in her forehead deepened with distress. She ran a hand down her face to center herself, but a bulky chef carrying the compost bag began to shimmy past the two of you. You pulled her out of the way, and both of you pressed yourselves flat against the wall as the chef passed. Cosette grumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. “Save that thought!” 

She determinedly nodded, pulling you through the kitchen and into the pantry. Cosette tugged the light on before closing the door behind the two of you. Your name left her mouth again in a frantic hiss.

“What is going on? Everyone was saying you were being punished for something. Everyone was watching because Madame Thénardier spied you from the third-story storage closet, and everyone thought you were about to die—!” She waved her hands frantically, pacing herself in a circle. —“And I told everyone to leave once I learned it was you—” Cosette curtly gestured in the air. —“But then Master Yonji hit the castle, and the glass was everywhere—!” You moved in front of her before she could hit her head on a bundle of carrots.

“Cosette,” you stressed, and she stopped for a moment. But only for a moment. You grasped her gently by the shoulders. “I am more than alright. I still work at the library.” You offered her a single, soft nod, but her shoulders remained tense under your grasp. “But Prince Yonji needs me sometimes, that’s all.” 

You glanced off sheepishly at a bag of potatoes. 

“He needs you…” Cosette glanced you up and down. You nodded adamantly. 

Cosette heaved a heavy sigh, drifting away from what you intended as a reassuring touch. She sat herself on a barrel of flour, both arms wrapped around the knees she pulled up to her chest. She puffed out her cheeks, not entirely eager to listen as her back slouched. 

“I don’t doubt that, but…” She nodded a few times in punctuation.

The door to the pantry opened. A cook with a pile of boxes quickly turned back around at the frantic wave of Cosette’s hand, letting the door shut again. She met your gaze, tilting her head to the side. 

“I don’t doubt that, but you almost got your head blown off today… I worry about you… I don’t know if you realize how scary today was.” Cosette trailed off, letting her feet fall back to the floor. She thought, zoning out on a random tile past your knees. “Getting so close to a person who doesn’t have a heart… it’s dangerous.”

The pantry went quiet. 

Noise continued outside. Pots clanged together. Water ran from faucets. The kitchen staff called out to each other; their voices muffled through the door. 

You took a deep breath before you spoke.

“Thank you,” you started. “For being so concerned about me. You’ve always been a great friend.”

Cosette didn’t answer you, and silence overtook the pantry once again, and the kitchen noise continued.

She wasn’t convinced about your safety in the slightest.

And with this talk about the Vinsmoke prince needing you, Cosette wasn’t even convinced that your own words convinced you. 

She remained quiet, at a loss for what to say or even think about the whole bizarre situation.

“I think he really likes me.” You smiled at your shoes.

Cosette most definitely didn’t know what to say to that.

Her shoulders deflated. She toyed with the end of her apron as she quietly considered you. You leaned against one of the shelves, admiring a basket of green peas with a quiet giddiness. 

“I think…” she pursed her lips, following your line of sight to the basket. “I think that perhaps his Highness likes the idea of you liking the idea of him liking you.” Cosette squinted her eyes, facing a random direction, as she lowered her hand in a slicing motion on her opposite palm. 

“You think he knows?” Your eyes widened at the prospect. You bolted up from where you were leaning, slamming the top of your head against the shelf above. “Ow!” You covered the sore spot with your hand. And as you were rubbing away the acute pain, you missed the softness that spread over Cosette’s gentle features. 

She quietly rose from her barrel and took your arm in hers. 

“Come now,” she sighed, opening the pantry door. “Let’s get that cake the prince was asking for. I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

***

You beat Yonji to his quarters, although it was probably for the best that you didn’t arrive after him.

You shut the doors quietly behind you with your shoe, taking in the eerie stillness of his room. It always felt odd being there without Yonji, and anticipating his presence left you with a nervous, looming feeling—like you weren’t supposed to be there. And, at least according to your job description, you weren’t. 

Most of the room was just how you left it. Yonji’s king bed sat opposite the door, with the headboard positioned in the middle of the wall. The microfiber sheets were neatly made just as you left them, and the pillows remained perfectly fluffed. 

All surfaces were clear and freshly dusted except for the circular table in the corner of the room near the door. Two large sake cups sat empty; condensation from earlier had already stained the wooden finish. You spotted the sake bottle on the floor.

You stepped down into the lowered lounge area to collect it and the cups. The two curved, leather couches were usually riddled with personal items, tools, and technical parts—which you were never to touch—but a space next to the table had been conveniently cleared off. 

You could only assume that the princes had been in Yonji’s room while you were in the medical ward. You wondered if you would be punished for your absence later.

The holo-screen glowed in the corner, and a large, detailed map of Germa’s next assignment was displayed and annotated with green and blue markers. 

You stared at the depiction of the sparsely populated city, placing the bottle with the cups on the table. In your other hand, you held the covered plate with Yonji’s cake. The green marker, a more neon color than the matte blue marker, depicted a series of vectors of the same size in various sections of the city, each ending with an “X” symbol. Meanwhile, the blue markings were dotted lines and small, boxed-in buildings. The trail ended at the coast.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, and with it, the cake almost toppled over as you turned to face Yonji. You had expected him to tease you, but he stood silently with his hands in his pockets. His expression was not one you usually saw. Yonji gazed at the holo-map, face grave.

“I can’t say I’m a fan,” Yonji grumbled. His eyes flickered to yours, locking you into an intense stare with a frown. “But you know, now that you’ve seen this—” He pointed a finger at the map, tilting his head to the side.  —“I’m gonna have to kill you.” His face contorted into a wolfish grin.

“Oh, I see.” You glanced back at the annotations, unfazed by how Yonji’s nose scrunched up in amusement. He prowled around the upper level, approaching the two steps down into the lowered corner lounge.

“Mission information is confidential.” Yonji placed his hands in his pockets. He stood directly behind you, the minor elevation allowing him to more than dwarf your form as he quietly blocked your only exit. “For the eyes of Germa 66 only.” 

“The arrows,” the words slipped out of your mouth. “They’re the radius of your winch.” You had most definitely meant it as a question, but the observation came out with more certainly than you anticipated.  

You turned your head for confirmation. Yonji’s chin jutted slightly back in acute surprise, his curly brows knitting together as he sneered. You stared at him silently, waiting for an answer, but Yonji only continued to look at you disapprovingly.

“The arrows are the radius of Your Highness’s weapon,” you corrected (as if that was the issue). 

Yonji’s scowl deepened as he snatched the bottle of sake from the wooden table. Unexpectedly, there was still some left. He flicked off the cap, shook his head a few times, and took a swig.

“Yeah? So?” Yonji circled the upper level, eyeing you closely as you stepped closer to the map. 

There were several levels to the city upon closer inspection. The entire diagram rotated upon your approach, revealing a multi-layered, three-dimensional diagram. The markings followed, remaining proportional despite the new angles. 

“Is this Speleothem?” you wondered aloud. Yonji took another swig of his bottle somewhere behind you.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding distant. You hadn’t noticed. “You been?”

“I’ve only read about it in books.” You reached out to touch the hologram.

The motion sent it into a tizzy, the diagram spinning erratically, causing you to step back. But once the image settled, it revealed an entire blueprint of the island with the green and blue markings still trapped inside.

Speleothem was a nation comprised of a single, large mountain. Uninhabitable on the outside, the people who lived on the island dedicated generations to carving out the dense rock, leaving a vast network of tunnels on the inside and an extremely rocky coast in the surrounding waters. But most critically, at least to Germa, were its five small entrances. 

Two canals passed through the island's base, intercrossing in the middle to split the system into quarters. Just above the water’s intersection, a vertical tunnel had been dug straight through the peak of the mountain to let in natural sunlight. 

You could see the problem. None accommodated the circumference of Yonji’s winch, and the tunnel system was far too narrow to support his typical brute-force attacks without collapsing a massive sector of the island. You wondered why he was concerned with being careful in the first place, too lost in your thoughts to remember where you were.

Yonji swiped the cake platter from your hands. You stiffened as you were rudely snapped from your daze. Yonji laughed at you that time. He turned on his heel, flicking the top off of the container. It clattered to the floor where the sake bottle— now empty— sat once again. 

“The hell are you still doing here?” he chewed. Yonji pushed past you, shoulder-checking you on his way back up the two stairs into the center of the bedroom. The fork that Cosette included already had a second bite of cake on it. 

“I thought you needed to kill me.”

“Not worth my effort,” he announced, mouth still full as he waved a now clean fork behind his head at you. “And I don’t want your corpse making a mess of my room when I have shit to do in the morning.”

Yonji plopped down on a different pair of couches in the middle of the room. The two ornate fixtures boasted intricate designs and velvet seating, both flanking an equally intricate coffee table in the middle, on which Yonji kicked his feet up. The set appeared to be a part of the same collection as his wardrobe, and the craftsmanship was a stark difference from the technologically sleek appearance of the furniture in the lower corner lounge. 

The back of his head faced you as he took an oversized bite of his extra dessert.

You were sure his ignorance of you was your cue to leave. 

You picked the serving lid up off the floor and held it upside down. As quietly as possible, you placed the empty sake bottle and the two cups into it. Yonji didn’t spare you even a glance as you quietly made for the door, unamused by you at the current moment. 

With the apparent raid on Speleothem the next day, he was either very tired or in an extremely good mood. Whatever the case, you knew better than to mess with it. You pressed down the push button at the top of the knob, holding it there as you hesitated.

You should really leave.

You should really leave and take the dishes straight to the kitchen before turning in for the night. 

Ruining Yonji’s fortunate mood and continuing to talk out of term? What a surefire way to get yourself—

“Speleothem uses a water system. That’s how they’re able to keep the tunnels together and carve out more.” Your voice cut through the air. The scraping of Yonji’s fork against his plate died in an instant. You cringed, letting your eyes squeeze closed as you braced yourself. No strike ever came. 

You slowly turned around, hugging your makeshift basket close to your chest. Yonji had an elbow over the back of the couch. His face was nothing less than unreadable as he studied you.

“They have ventilation tunnels that the water gets pumped through, and if those were to be disrupted, I’m sure you—someone—could cause massive structural damage without collapsing the system on something important below.” The words tumbled out of your lips faster than you could stop them, if not for the sheer purpose of filling the uncomfortable silence in the room. 

You could feel his stare boring into you, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze. Out of all the Vinsmoke princes, Yonji wasn’t the strictest when it came to meeting his eye, but it didn’t feel like the appropriate moment to test his generosity. 

He spoke your name, and it sent a shiver through your core. All your better instincts were as on edge as the hairs on your arms, afraid of the powerful man sitting before you. But in a match-up of pure will and power, the fluttering in your chest swiftly outweighed your senses. 

“Yes, Prince Yonji?” You bowed your head. He liked being reminded of his royal status.

There was another beat of silence. 

“Get out.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” 

***

Speleothem was an eyesore. Just a large rock in the ocean surrounded by smaller rocks, Yonji couldn’t say he was particularly pleased about his assignment on an island so dull and fragile. Reiju had, after all, been the one initially assigned to the assassination, but since she had been called for another assignment, Yonji was the one to take her place. 

The entire mission had been too covert for his liking. Unlike his sister, Yonji didn’t have much in his arsenal to cover a large area without compromising the structural integrity of the entire Goddam island. Unfortunately for him, Speleothem needed to be (mostly) intact. 

Yonji couldn’t help but grumble to himself as he fought off another security grunt with a strong uppercut. The sturdy exoskeleton clattered to the side, his compilation of fallen enemies beginning to make a pile around him. A series of high-pitched scraping noises and clicking sounded from just down the tunnel. Yonji ran the back of his gloved hand over his forehead. He despised that he was already working up a sweat, but they just kept coming. 

He ventured down into the main sector to meet the battalion coming his way. Due to the narrow passageways, the footsoldiers practically charged at him in a single file line. Yonji made short work of each one, critically denting their outer armor with each swing of his enhanced fists, but no matter how many times he swung or how many guards fell, more seemed to replace their fallen comrades at a rapid pace. 

The number of troops in front of him didn’t appear to dwindle. By the third round of reinforcements, the dark smirk Yonji typically had during battle had disappeared. He huffed to himself quietly, occasional grunts of effort being the only noise to break the steady rhythm of communication clicks and insect-like scraping. 

When another battalion of guards began to make their way down the tunnel from the opposite end, Yonji was officially annoyed. Even using a fraction of his skills, Yonji could have made short work of the entire section of the island, and he knew it. And if the mission took place at any other location, he could have. Instead, he’d have to play glorified punching bag until Niji gave the signal. 

In the midst of the chaos, Yonji’s eyes flickered up to the tunnel’s ceiling. He had been able to hear the sound of rushing water since the moment he entered.

One of the footsoldiers tackled Yonji from behind, digging his sharp mandibles into Yonji’s shoulder. Yonji moved on instinct, punching up into the ceiling and letting the flood of water wash out the tunnel.

But despite a real lack of excitement, the assignment went off without a hitch. By the end of the morning, Niji and Yonji had safely retreated and were ready to report back to Germa’s central sector, leaving Speleothem flooded and leaderless.

“Smart thinking with the ventilation system! I couldn’t’ve strategized a better distraction!” Niji let out a deep chuckle and smacked Yonji hard in the center of his back. “How the hell did you think that one up?”

Yonji trudged forward, ringing some water out of his orange scarf. While he could fly over the flooding in every other tunnel, Yonji’s raid suit was still wet from the first ventilation duct he broke. 

“Read about it in a book,” Yonji grumbled as he trudged forward. The bite he endured earlier had caused minor damage, breaking the skin just enough for the wound to be irritated by his damp clothes. 

Niji stood behind him, fists on his hips as he let out another hearty laugh.

“You know how to read?”

Yonji hardly heard him, trudging in the direction of his quarters to change into more comfortable clothes.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: He will get better. The soft spot I have for the Germa 66 boys has been absolutely crippling. Alternate names for this fic included "Easy," "Glutton for Punishment," and, of course, "Beauty and the Beast."

Part I Part II

[bodydoublegame]

hello! it's amy! if you follow my personal account, you'd already know what this is. body double is a side project that i do for fun inbetween infamous, just for when i need to refresh my brain! i decided to make a blog for it so i don't flood my personal account with this game lol.

This game is a side project that I do when I need inspiration for Infamous. That means development on it will be sloooow. Infamous is my main priority right now!

Body Double is a an interactive story that takes place in a cyberpunk inspired world where top secret operatives of an elusive Cypress Industries have the unique ability to jump bodies.

Agent Sawyer is the best Agent in the business, tasked with protecting Cypress Industries and all of its assets.

Until three weeks ago.

Framed for the president's murder and in a last-ditch effort to save their ass, they switch bodies with our regular, ordinary IT-tech MC...who is now walking in the body of a suspect the entire city is looking for. Stuck in a citywide manhunt, MC is now on the run with a pesky Agent who refuses to tell them where their body is. To make matters worse, Agent Sawyer's subconcious is stuck in their head, speaking to them like a pest MC can't shake off.

Wonderful.

With a help of a host of characters from Sawyer's past and MC's present, MC will have to throw themself in a conspiracy to clear Sawyer's name and get back to normal. Relatively. No pressure.

The usual IF stuff: customize your mc from personality to appearance. Unsurprisingly from me, BODY DOUBLE is a character driven story with a focus on relationship dynamics, angst and drama...but this time with action.

Mold Sawyer in the prologue and be stuck with them in your head for the rest of the story. Are they humorous? Stoic? Vulgar? Emotional? Arrogant? You decide.

Romance characters like Sawyer's ex (messy) or the human-mech hybrid trying to kill you (messy) or your measly IT tech friend who has no idea what the hell is going on but they're a trooper. Or an AI. Your call.

Try to uncover a conspiracy and solve a murder in a cyberpunk setting.

Don't die?

SAWYER [RO][customizable]: the agent accused of murder. The wires get crossed when they switch bodies with you, and somehow you have their subconcious in your head. They refuse to switch back until you help clear their name even though you're in their body, which means people are after you now. Asshole move, really.

ROACH: Sawyer's twin brother and perpetual hermit. As a hacker, he has eyes all over the city. He also misses his sibling, so he's determined to see it through.

AGENT BECK [f or m] [RO]: A cool and intimidating fellow Agent of Cypress Industries...and Sawyer's ex partner. Sawyer dumped them, broke their heart, and since then, ghosted them (as one does.) With that said, Beck is determined to help you. And them. Just make sure to try to ignore the longing looks they send your way. It's not towards you, of course.

CAI [RO] [f, m or nb models] : Cypress AI or CAI is Sawyer's former field partner. Honest, cold and emotionless, you can't believe CAI is actually helping you. It must be going against their every makeup to go against Cypress, but having someone like them on your side is beneficial, at least.

HAWKE [m][RO]: the mech-human hybrid tasked with hunting you down. Well, hunting Sawyer down. Their one mission is to see you (Sawyer) dead, which poses a problem so as long as you're in this body. So there's that.

SOLANA [f][RO]: the elusive club owner...and the last person to see the president alive. You can't tell if Solana is an ally or an enemy, but you do know the one thing that drives her is power. Good to keep an eye on her, anyway.

AXL [nb] [RO]: the wealthy child of the now dead president and new heir of Cypress Industries. They hate your (Sawyer's) guts. They have hired all the best operatives and assassins to take you (Sawyer) down, and will stop and nothing to get their justice. If only you could convince them otherwise...

MAV [f or m] [RO]: your best friend and fellow IT employee. A trooper, who decides to be your sidekick on this weird...journey. No biggie. Make sure they don't die.

As usual, BD is 18+ for adult themes, explicit language, suggestive situations, violence and more! <3

[prouddogboi]

Stray dog (Part 1)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and forcefully refuses affection from Ghost and Soap even in his sleep.

Word count: 1852

Warnings: It's my first time posting my writing on Tumblr. There are so few CODxM!Reader fics I just want to contribute lmao TToTT. The warning is it can be shit because I'm new.

It was a successful mission. A tough one, yes, many soldiers got serious injuries and had to spend days in the hospital, but still, the mission was accomplished with minimal loss. The people at the base decided to throw a party at a well-known bar in the area. As usual, you stayed close to your team, until they left you all alone again for whatever they were up to: Ghost and Soap went into the dark corridor doing ‘secret’ business except for the fact that everyone knew what that business was; Price meeting up with the Captains of other teams, talking about the ‘kids’ in their care like the good ol’ tired dads and moms they all were; Gaz hitting up on some pretty guy or girl; and Roach just immersing himself in the music on the dance floor. 

“The usual shot?” The bartender smiled at you. He was an ordinary-looking guy, not too tall, not too short, but he was always nice to you.

“Yeah.” You replied, eyes looking down at the empty glass in your scarred hand. Your usual shot was one of the heaviest types served at this bar, you found its bitter, stinging taste and the dizziness it brought about worked wonders for you, helping to repress the strong emotions that always came up to the surface to trouble you whenever you were off the field, whenever you were not having to fight between life and death. Free time and a mind that was offered the opportunity to relax were not something you felt grateful for. Instead, you loved being constantly stimulated when being in battles, since it left your mind no time to overthink unnecessary things other than trying to keep yourselves and your teammates alive.

“A successful mission, huh? Everyone is enjoying themselves a lot tonight.” The bartender said, clearly trying to keep talking to you as he was preparing your drink.

“It was.”

“Did you get injured?” 

“Just some scratches, nothing serious.”

“You seem to do your job very well.”

You did. You were a good soldier. An excellent one even. You were showered with praise from the Captain, the teammates, the higher-ups… just anyone after almost every mission. Even Ghost himself had to admit that you were a good one. However, you didn’t know for sure what made you excel while most others didn’t. Maybe it was because every mission you paid no mind as to whether you would be alive or not. It was true that everyone in this line of work had to come to terms with the notion of death upon themselves, no one could be sure how many days they got left on this planet doing this kind of job, but you were still different. You weren’t actively trying to get yourselves in situations that would get you killed, because it often meant a great threat to your teammates too, but you were not one that would hold on to life that much. You were always ready to sacrifice.

“I notice that you’re always alone. Well, the others do join you, but after a while, they leave and you’re still here.” The bartender passed you the shot.

“They have things to do.”

“Why don’t you? Getting out there and having some fun.”

Fun? It did not sound fitting to who you were. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I prefer it this way.”

“By the way, can I ask for a guy’s number? The one with the mohawk.”

“You mean Soap?” You left out a soft chuckle, “Give up, mate. He already has a partner. A scary one.” 

“Who?”

“The fuckin’ huge one with the skull mask. I’m sure you know well who he is and how scary he is.”

“What? That guy? I’ve always thought he’s into you though.”

This time you laughed out loud. The thought of someone interested in you was just so ridiculous, it felt surreal and impossible, “Ain’t no way, why would you think that?”

“He always looks at you with those piercing eyes, as if he will eat you up in no time.”

“Probably it’s because the Soap guy is always leaning over me. He’s so mad that I dare to get that near to his precious partner that he just wants to end my life right here.” You drank up the whole glass in one breath, then smashed the now empty glass on the bar, resulting in a huge ‘thump’ sound, mainly due to the fact that it was your fist that came into contact with the wooden material. It sent a burning feeling to your skin and fresh, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain you had to endure in battles or the mental one off field, when your mind was free to drift away. 

“Could be. But I still think he is into you.” The bartender shrugged, knowing you so well that he went ahead to prepare another shot for you. Nights like this often led to you drinking non-stop until you were so drunk that you’d pass out, and that masked guy was the one who carried you back. That was another reason besides the intense glare that made him convinced that the guy was attracted to you. Well, the hot man with the mohawk was always there too, but he usually waited in distance and smiled at how the masked guy having trouble carrying you as you thrashed around in his arms, clearly too drunk to know that he was just helping you. But the bartender only thought that the mohawk and the masked guy were close friends. Now that you mentioned it, it was indeed possible that they were in love with each other. 

Wouldn’t that make a love triangle though? The bartender threw a glance at you, studying you with amusement. Everyone loved some drama in their mundane lives. You were a handsome boy with sharp facial features, those damn bright eyes that lit up the whole place when you genuinely smiled, and all those strong muscles. He would’ve asked for your number instead if that scary big masked man wasn’t into you that much.

A few hours passed and the party came to its near end. All those smiling and laughing soldiers slowly hopped on the vehicles, making their way back to the base, clearly not wanting to wake up a mess the day after. They still had training as usual after all. One didn’t seem to care though. You collapsed on the bar, your handsome face grew red with how drunk you were and how much alcohol your body had absorbed. Ghost and Soap assured Price that they would bring you back safe before the tired dad of your Task Force got in the car with Gaz and Roach. They didn’t usually drink too much when they were off base, but you were quite the opposite. The team had no idea why you would pour so much alcohol into your mouth and stomach on these occasions, it was like you were grieving over something rather than celebrating the good news of a successful mission. Everyone in this line of work had their own past and troubles, but there was indeed something different in your troubles as they never felt that you were comfortable to open up. Soap even joked a lot about how much harder it was to get closer to you than Ghost. It was true that you were always smiling, chatting, and gossiping with him and Gaz and Roach over stupid things, but there was this invisible wall that you had built around your heart, unwilling to let anyone in. 

Ghost and Soap got to the bar where you were lying. 

“Come to get him?” The bartender was cleaning all the glasses that you and some other regulars used.

Ghost looked at you as your eyes were tightly shut, clearly not happy with your current condition, “Maybe next time don’t let him drink too much.”

The bartender raised his hands, “C’mon, I’m just serving my customers. He appears to need those shots to handle whatever emotions he’s having.”

Ghost and Soap turned their head to look at each other for a few seconds before Ghost stepped up and got you off the bar. You were too drunk to know anything, but surprisingly tonight you were very silent and cooperated well with your Lieutenant. 

“Let’s take you back to your room, huh?” Ghost was content with this sudden change and Soap just casually used his strong hand to rub your neatly cut hair. 

As Soap parked the car in the base's park, Ghost threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you off the vehicle. However, your tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, they widened as you turned your head left and right to make sense of your surroundings. 

“You’re up early.” Soap said jokingly.

“He’s too drunk to understand your stupid sarcasm, Soap.” Ghost scoffed. 

However, it took both men aback when they heard you sobbing. Soap was quick to cup your face with his palms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sobbing almost uncontrollably, trying to get your face out of his grip. One of Ghost’s arms went to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place and calm you down, but you started to act the usual way when you were drunk: thrashing around hysterically, as if you were striving so hard to escape from something inescapable. 

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

“Y/n, calm down, calm down! It’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap tried to talk some sense into the heavily drunk you.

“Stay away from me!” You didn’t seem to listen. Feeling Ghost’s grip was still firm around your body, you got more and more violent. Screaming and kicking, you definitely hurt him in the process as you finally succeeded in getting away. You stumbled a few steps on the cold cement ground before you collapsed on it due to the perfect dizziness that you hoped the shots at the bar would gift you. You curled into a ball, trembling violently yet not from how cold the ground was. Shuddering sobs still escaped your lips, and your eyes were tightly shut again. Price and Gaz hurriedly ran to where you three were, their eyes filled with worry given how loud and heartfelt your screams were (Roach didn’t come with them because he also drank too much). The two men saw Ghost and Soap standing beside you, their arms were hanging in the air as if they were holding on to something, while you were there, laying on the ground sobbing and mumbling unintelligible words. 

Luckily you quickly fell asleep again, still sobbing but unconscious enough for the men to carry you back to your room. They tucked you nicely into your bed, watching over your now peaceful sleeping face. Soap wiped the tears left on your cheeks with his hand, his mind questioning the reasons why you reacted so fiercely to them taking care of you earlier. When you finally stopped sobbing, they carefully left your room. There were things to be discussed, but they could wait.

to be continued bc I have class tmr and I need to sleep :D

[sgtyaraya]

Call of Duty OC

Name: Trudy Saidler

Nikename: Jay

Date of birth: June 01, 1992

Age: 24 (at the time of the events in 2016)

Place of birth: Liberec, Czech Republic🇨🇿

Citizenship: Czech🇨🇿

Nationality: English 🇬🇧

Rank: Sergeant

Specialty: Infantryman

Unit: TF - 141

Family/Relationships

Mother: Adele Saidler (Hofmann) 🇬🇧

Father: Philip Saidler 🇬🇧

Brother: Evan Saidler🇬🇧 ✝️

Love Interest: Gary "Roach" Sanderson🇬🇧💕

Reference/appearance

Trudy on the day she arrived at Credenhill

Parameters

Hair: brown with light strands

Eyes: grey

Pigmentation on the body: freckles

Tattoo: on the left arm

Scars: scratches on the right and left arm, a bullet wound in the left shoulder, suture marks on the right side at the rib level, bullet wounds in the abdomen, cartilage injury of the right ear

Height: 170 cm

Weight: 60 kg

Body type: normal

Equipment

Armored vest: warrior "plates" assault systems

M4A1 assault rifle with a grenade launcher

M14 EBR sniper rifle with silencer for long-range elimination and, if necessary, to cover the group

Pistols: M9 and USP.45

Cold steel: Alpha S D2 knife Tactical Knife and Custom Steel Machete D2 Machete Etsy Knife

Personality

Trudy is a young girl with sociability and good nature. Her attitude towards people depends on how they treat her: if they show a positive attitude towards her, she is a little stubborn. Even so, Trudy is not so trusting, so she does not immediately open up to the interlocutor. Trudy sometimes experiences moments that can cause irritation. And in such cases, she can flare up, allowing her emotions to come out. However, she tries to control her emotions so as not to show them to other people. But Trudy's weakest side is her worries. Everything that she experiences inside herself, she tries to hide from others.

Fears

🔥Pyrophobia🔥is a phobia consisting in a constant, irrational, obsessive, panic fear of fire, fires; an obsessive fear of burning alive, getting burned, or losing property as a result of a fire. (in one of the missions, she almost burned herself in the room in which she was locked, losing consciousness)

Biography

Trudy's parents live in the Czech Republic for most of their lives, they have successfully established their lives in another country, and we can say they have lived in it for most of their lives, and did not want to return to England. Adele Saidler (Hofmann) has opened her own atelier in Liberec, where they now live. The woman is engaged in custom tailoring, previously she was specialized in sewing military uniforms. Philip Saidler is a former infantryman, retired for health reasons, retired, but he helps his wife in the atelier, delivering sewing materials. He also earns a living on the outskirts of the city, but there is no information about his place of work. Before Trudy, they had a son, Evan Saidler [date of birth unknown, died as a teenager, cause of death unknown]. The couple suffered a hard loss, and were very worried about their daughter, who knows about her late brother.

Trudy's childhood, like that of ordinary children, was no different from them. She also had her own hobbies, which her parents reacted positively to, and supported their daughter in every possible way, most importantly. The girl was actively engaged in dancing from the age of 12, from which she developed flexibility, there were even performances on behalf of the school. She also loved to help her mother in the atelier, more often looked after the counter, and thus engaged in needlework, she could also sew some clothes with jewelry. In addition to dancing, Trudy also had hobbies, which she does not mention.

During her student years, Trudy met a girl who was 1 year younger than her, Linda Kovac (Czech). She was always an inconspicuous gray mouse, but Trudy became friends with her on the first day they met, and spent more and more time together. Thanks to her, Linda began to gain self-confidence and even changed her style in order not to fall into the gray mass and stand out somehow. Saidler never sought to attract attention, preferring to wear comfortable and not too bright clothes, and studied like all ordinary students. She needed Czech to learn, so even at preschool age she learned this language, English is considered the main one.

There have been mistakes in Trudy's life, one of them has undermined people's trust. As a student, a guy was in love with her, and he sought her attention in every possible way. The student's infatuation, yes, did not last long. This guy dated her for a joke, enjoyed her trust. After receiving her education, Trudy left Liberec and went to England. After living there for some time, she went to Credenhill, where the selection for group 141 was held. During the trip, Trudy heard other recruits talking about this group, and who is in it, quite big names sounded from the mouths of the guys, which made her interested. Arriving at their base, Trudy did not expect to see the members of the 141 group live. At the time, Captain McTavish was in charge of the selection, and he took up her training in order to make Saidler an experienced fighter. As a rookie, she was sent for additional training to improve her skills and adapt to work in group 141. During her stay at the base, Trudy met Roach, a young sergeant whom she saw on the day of her arrival. At first, things didn't go very well due to distrust, so we gradually communicated. Jay showed a special interest in Roach as a person and wanted to get to know him better, and thus she awakened trust in him. Roach also showed interest in the girl and communicated with her even from a distance. Trudy was very afraid of attachment to people, and hid her sympathy until the last moment, Roach had the same feelings for her. They gradually showed warm feelings for each other.

Participation

Jay began his service under the command of Captain McTavish, took his first part in the Hunting mission, where the goal was to catch Alejandro Rojas, worked in a group with Roach. In the future, she participated in assaults at certain points, provided cover, engaged in inconspicuous liquidation

The history of the creation of the OC

In 2011, I played with COD Modern warfare 2 for the first time. This game has left vivid moments in my memory, from joyful to sad, my favorite mission is "Rock Climber". At that moment, the first character appeared in my head. Since I couldn't draw at the age of 9, I was building a plot in my head. There is an important point, this is the date when I started playing and when I came up with Trudy. This is June 1, 2011, and this date is also Trudy's date of birth.

In her first version, there was no first or last name, I just called her "Emersan", this call sign is taken from another game that I also actively played. As for her appearance, Trudy looked different, not like she does now. In 2018, I visually sketched her portrait, hoping for my memory. Based on this, I decided to change her appearance, and also attached my old works. As time went on, I always wanted to add something, it seemed to me that Trudy was too simple. Although yes, she really was like that. Then, during the redrawing, I already gave her a name. Her name was Trudy "Emersan" Sombra. She later became Jay, the new surname is Saidler. Trudy's redesigns didn't last long, so I changed it again by drawing new references. You can see that she has hardly changed since 2019, there are small changes on her face – freckles and hair color have become darker. Next comes the tattoo. It was a difficult choice, I came up with the first tattoo myself, then I made another, more complex one. The final version was drawn in 2023, and received a reference

Trudy in 2011 to 2022

[shigayokagayama]

The Beach Omake And Authorial Intent

initially i was going to save this for a big teru analysis i had cooking however i eventually ended up deciding that it would feel like a really long tangent in its original context and probably deserves a separate post.

when it comes to the whole "teru's parents" thing i generally see two competing ideas on it

a. terus absent parents are the real villains of mob psycho and are the direct cause of everything wrong with his life and any and all teru analysis must center around this fact

b. terus parents being absent in the first place is only revealed in an omake and only exists for plot convenience and is not something that should be focused on at all when writing him

and whenever i see either of these my mind always drifts to the question of authorial intent. i know how people are reading this information, but how are we supposed to? i know death of the author is becoming more of a common thing in fandom spaces (albeit usually misused) but i feel like a better understanding of why this omake exists and how we're supposed to read it might help to better synthesize two takes that seems to be completely at odds with each other.

okay first i want to go over the actual placement of the beach omake in the update schedule of the manga because, unlike most other omakes, i feel like this ones placement in the schedule of page releases is actually super relevant

the vast majority of omakes come at the end of weekly updates. you finish reading the usually 15-20 pages ONE put out and then you get a little bonus comic at the end, usually something funny or a slice of life but but occasionally more serious. multi part omakes are usually spread out over multiple updates, making you wait a couple weeks for a punchline.

beach omake is not that. between chapters 99 (mob gets hit by a car) and 100 (the whole rest of the omake) there was a 6 week hiatus from normal pages and in this hiatus is where we get beach omake. reading it all together immediately cuts away the sort of "slice of life sunday paper comic" tone other multi part omakes have and make you read it as a part of the actual main story, since that's how you're used to reading these weekly updates.

now the actual tone. generally the multi part omakes exist to be long punchlines and the rare emotional ones are a single page for maximum impact. beach omake has a very different structure compared to, say, the haunted doll omake or the pot of happiness.

off the bat from the first two pages there's not really a joke. the tone mostly seems kind of melancholic. mobs expression for the middle section of the second page (maybe purposely) is obscured by the panel breaking off, it's hard to tell his reaction, all our attention is directed at teru. with all of the panels taken up by dialogue (primarily his own), we're being asked to focus on what he's saying:

-teru lives alone

-he lives alone because his parents live overseas

-he hasnt seen them in a while

-he doesnt like having nothing to do

-he doesnt like being alone

all of this information is delivered with an extremely casual expression from him, implying that it's not something that seems ll the out of the ordinary for him. mob, on the other hand...

the hesitation before he says anything and the way his expression is obscured seems to imply something is... off... about this information to him. this isn't a handwaved "oh mob is walking home from school after passing out because he needs to for plot reasons", we're reacting to this information like it's weird.

the next two pages are, mostly, a lot more of what we expect out of a mob psycho omake. the first one works as a standalone joke page, teru is bad at identifying animals which leads to him showing reigen a roach, something reigen is terrified of, instead of a beetle.

the second page starts similarly, we get a dumbass joke about reigen trying to pick up women at the beach (note: i think this is the singular time we get an indication reigen is even into women) but then the next two panels take on a more melancholic tone again. we get a small panel of mob and ritsu playing on the beach and a much, much larger panel of teru sitting on the beach, watching them. the dialogue bubble forces us to pay attention to the fact that he is silent.

the ending of this omake is where we bring it home. generally the last panel centers the punchline of the page, or of the whole omake, but the final panel of this isn't really what was being built to in this case.

we start our second page on teru. his expression is obscured, reigens speech bubble is shoved to the side so we can see that teru's hat is being held in his hands.

when we see his face in full view he looks... confused. he looks like he doesn't know how to react to someone going through all this trouble for him. teru is a character who, up to this moment, we have seen as extremely independent. he always rushes into things alone, he always has to be the hero, he always has to be the one to save the day. hell, this omake is immediately followed by the confession arc. where... you know.

so what are we supposed to get out of this omake?

teru's been doing everything on his own up to this point

but he doesn't have to anymore

[caffieneaddictt18]

Welcome Home, White Wolf

Reader lives in a cute Baba Yaga style cottage that has a window that looks like an eye and has a cute plume of pink feathers on the back and a large window on the side. With a roof with moss and crows and a brick chimney that always has smoke coming out of the shaft. Geralt and Reader are married and Geralt isnt scared because Reader stays in her Baba Yaga house.

______________________________________________________________

As Geralt ventured deeper into a seemingly endless forest, it grew dark. The White Wolf knew instinctively that it was not even afternoon yet.

The trees, thick with foliage, danced in the wind of the air currents that circle and flow within the atmosphere. The animals, small and large alike, cleared away from his path but watched from the pitch of the deep black ferns and bushes that lined Geralts path.

As Geralt rode Roach, he came up upon a cute and quaint home. However cute this home was, it was no ordinary home. It rested upon 2 chicken legs and had what looked like a plume of feathers on the back. On the front, was a gigantic eye that was made to look like a window.

Geralt sighs in contentment.

"Favela?" The quaint cottage turned to look at Geralt after wandering aimlessly for a long time, "May I come in?"

Favela bowed her chicken legs and allowed Geralt into her master's home.

"Thank you... Favela..." Geralt gently pets the sentient being that was his wife's home.

The smell of bread and rosemary permeated the wood of the door and flowed out the French swinging windows of Favela. Geralt was once again reminded of how odd this was supposed to be... but of how homey this felt.

How much of a home he could have as a traveler who kills monsters and is feared or hated by most. Sometimes the two are not mutually exclusive... People tend to fear what they don't understand, and then they fight it. They fight to try and keep whatever semblance of normalcy they had. Which, in this case, wasn't any.

He swings the door open. "Y/N! I'm home!"

A broom brushes past him and a crow settles into a high beam of the cottage. The fire crackles and a woman with purples swirls of energy surrounding her runs to the man. A man... something he only feels like when surrounded by her.

Not a hero made to kill monsters.

Not a killer for hire, as he was before Blaviken.

Just a man. A man who deserves love and care. A man who deserves to rest and know comfort. A man.

As she runs, he prepares for the hug that comes from the flurry of black and green, and is breathless. Not from the force of her jumping hug but from her.

Her eyes and her hands. How soft they are across his tough, weathered hands. How wonderful she feels in his arms...

Geralt is just happy to be home, and the White Wolf is happy to have a place to rest.

______________________________________________________________

Author's Cup of Tea:

This is the TikTok that inspired it all: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8jTay4a/

I do not own the artist, or the art. I just got really inspired.

[irrlicht-writes]

forget-me-not

And you’ll strew some sage and lilies And roses where I rot Of all the flowers you picked I knew you would forget forget-me-nots

~*~

Sometimes, Jaskier stares into nothing.

Over the years, Geralt watches him and he doesn’t understand. He never asks, because Jaskier is simple. But sometimes, Jaskier stares and Geralt wonders what he’s seeing.

“Geralt,” the bard asks one day, mindlessly strumming his lute, “have you ever seen one of the fair folk?”

“No,” Geralt replies, “at least not to my knowledge. They are tricky creatures; you’d best to stay away from them. Why do you ask? Writing a song about them?”

“No,” the bard replies, “I was just wondering. Is there a way to tell if you meet them?”

“Do you think you met one?”

Jaskier blinks up at him, his lute forgotten in his arms. Geralt’s rarely seen Jaskier so unfocused and it worries him a little. Is the bard catching sick? He’s usually incredibly hardy. Jaskier looks to the side, away from Geralt, into the forest around them. He doesn’t answer.

Geralt listens. He can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, just the normal sound of the woods. Somewhere there is a nest of Nekkers, and Geralt hopes it’ll be a contract in the next village.

Jaskier tears himself away from the forest and starts moving again.

“I’m just wondering,” he whispers, almost to himself and Geralt isn’t sure whether or not he was supposed to hear that.

The bard plays a soft melody but he doesn’t sing. He doesn’t look behind him and Geralt worries he might just disappear completely. Slowly, Roach starts moving, following the bard’s lead.

The day had been normal before, but now, now it feels eerie. It feels like someone else is watching. However, when he looks around, Geralt cannot see anyone beyond the trees.

In the tavern, the bard returns to normal, all talk of fair folk forgotten. Geralt breathes a sigh of relief, almost audibly. Jaskier is weird, when he isn’t his usual, chatty self. The bard performs songs for the crowd, securing them a room and a hearty meal for the evening. Tomorrow, Geralt will look for the alderman about the Nekker nest. Today, he will drink the bad ale in the tavern and watch Jaskier perform.

The Witcher isn’t sure why, but he’s hesitant to leave. This time, this feels precious, like he wants to remember this. When Jaskier spots him at the table in the crowd, he smiles. Geralt feels like he has to treasure it.

And it scares him.

Jaskier is humming.

“Sing the song to me?”

“No, I can’t.”

Jaskier is humming.

“Your bard is floating.”

“I told you not to hex him.”

Yennefer scoffs. “Oh, I’d wish. But look.”

Geralt looks.

Jaskier sits at the campfire Geralt made and Yennefer is right; he’s floating. He’s humming the same tune he had been humming a few days ago, with a faraway look in his eyes. By all rights, he should hear them, but he doesn’t react. Quietly, he is humming, staring into nothing.

“I’m worried. He’s been – off, for a while now. When I leave him for winter – I don’t –“

“You want me to watch over him? That’s not going to happen, Geralt, I’m not your dog.”

Geralt sighs. He hadn’t meant that. He is simply worried. Summer is nearing its end, and he cannot take the bard with him to the Keep. Not only because of his brothers and Vesemir, but also because Jaskier would be so terribly bored after a week.

Jaskier stops humming and looks up. He doesn’t look at them, yet he seems to listen to something nonetheless.

“Jaskier?” Geralt calls out to him but the bard doesn’t react. His eyes are transfixed above the flame, staring into the trees again. He moves his lips, but no sound comes out.

“Bardling?”

Jaskier turns his head toward them and still, he can’t fix his eyes on them.

“Geralt,” he whispers, “what does the fair folk look like?”

Geralt gets up immediately. “Where did you see them?”

Jaskier shakes his head.

���I can’t,” he whispers desperately, “I can’t. I’m scared.”

He resumes his humming, louder this time, with utter despair laced into it.

Geralt scans the treeline, but he finds nothing.

“Geralt,” Yennefer says.

Geralt turns and he sees the witch holding the bard’s hand.

“Your bard is floating.”

And Geralt can see him float away, even though Yennefer tries so hard.

*

Jaskier picks flowers in a field.

Geralt and Yennefer are standing a distance away, Roach sticking close to the bard. She seems to be picking flowers for her mane for the man to braid into it.

The wind is soft today, and there’s no cloud in the sky.

Jaskier is slipping through Geralt’s hands and he doesn’t know what to do. Whatever fair folk Jaskier might be seeing, Geralt can never find them.

That evening, Geralt doesn’t complain when Jaskier braids his hair full of flowers. The bard laughs and behind them, the flowers are softly waving.

In Geralt’s hair, there are forget-me-nots.

“Promise me, Geralt,” Jaskier says one day.

“Hm?”

They are lying on the earth, looking up into the starry night sky above them.

“Forget me not, when I’m gone?”

“I’m not letting you go.”

Jaskier laughs, a melody on the wind.

“Darling, I’m already on the path.”

~*~

On this day, it rains.

When Geralt turns, the path behind him is empty.

*

Years, and years later, when Geralt is older than he ever thought he would be, he finds himself at the coast.

He remembers a bard, young and yearning.

We could head to the coast, eh?

They could have.

The horse under him is Roach, but she doesn’t remember a bard. And yet, Geralt catches her watch the woods sometimes, like she’s looking for something.

Geralt is watching too. He’s never found the fair folk, never found the path the bard had taken.

He thinks about leaving. He thinks about dying.

He’d die in battle is what he always thought. But now, fights are his no longer.

The waves in the distance are soothing and Geralt closes his eyes.

If he forgets he’s at the coast, the waves sound much like humming from so long ago.

I can hear the cannons calling As though across a dream And I can smell the smoke of hell In every stitch and seam And like flowers, the bodies tumble Around this muddied lot I cannot hear them scream "Forget me not"

On this day, it doesn’t rain.

When Geralt turns, there is someone behind him on the path.

[canonically47]

The funeral is short and small and tragic.

Fang quietly sobs in Frenchie’s arms, whose tears have painted his face in sorrow, and Roach stands next to Frenchie with pain in his eyes that were joyful mere hours ago. Jim looks down in respect, their eyes still and dead, unmoving from the grave, and Archie is next to them, trying to stay tough and unbothered but her eyes still water. Lucius and Pete bury each other in one another’s arms, hoping physical warmth will cure their aching hearts. Zheng is awkwardly standing on the side, having not known Izzy for long, but she’s holding Oluwande, who is quiet in mourning. Ed is the one who makes the grave, each move shaky and unsure. And Stede stands by him, his head lowered in respect and love for the man who finally learned to love.

“I guess that’s it, then.”

Ed’s words break the sobbing silence after much uncounted time. Some look up and some don’t. Ed just shoves the shovel away with a sigh and walks away, unable to look at the grave for any other second.

“Ed.”

Ed looks at Stede, who of course has followed him like the puppy he is. Not even his understanding glance can make this better. Not even his soft touch can comfort Ed. Not even his words-

“He didn’t die for nothing. He died for us. He died because he loved us.” There’s that smile. “Don’t you think that’s beautiful?”

Ed smiles back at him, but his eyes don’t crinkle like they should for a true smile.

“I think it’d be more beautiful if he lived for us.”

Not even his unknowledgeable words can make this better.

When they get on the ship again, it’s quiet. They don’t mind their steps and they trip and they break and they cry and they mourn and they don’t know what to do.

Lucius and Pete want to hold the wedding; but they wanted Izzy to be there. The shark Izzy whittled and gave Lucius - which he still doesn’t know if it was for him or just given to him because he had nobody else to give it to - stays in his room, staring at him like a ghost of grief.

Zheng wants to comfort Olu, Olu wants to comfort Jim; but the ultimate comfort was Izzy. Those insults and those shouts and yet that care that he gave had become the ordinary before that no-nosed bastard fired. Before Izzy trembled. Before Izzy met his unfair end.

Frenchie wants to talk to Izzy; but Izzy is dead. There was a lot went unsaid between them. A lot more Frenchie wanted to say and do. A lot of things Lucius and Pete, and Stede and Ed, did that he wanted to do. But Izzy is dead. Izzy has met his unfair end.

Fang and Roach suffer; they suffer because Izzy is dead. Fang misses him because he’s known him for so long, his absence is hard to believe. Roach hears him call Izzy’s name, and hears him sigh and then yell in frustration and anger and grief when he realizes. And Fang sees Roach frantically search for Izzy when he messes something up in the kitchen, then stops dead in his steps when he realizes.

“Izzy, can you-... Fuck.”

Ed suffers too.

“Izzy, would you come here-... Oh, God.”

Stede suffers too.

“Stede-”

“I know.”

“I never- I never got to-”

“I know, Ed.”

“Why the fuck did he apologize? Why the fuck was he such an idiot to- to let himself bleed out, to- to leave me? To-”

Ed breaks down in frantic sobs.

He is surrounded by loving family.

He must be happy and fulfilled.

He must find himself a purpose.

But when was that established?

But how can happiness come to him now?

But what is Ed without Izzy?

There is the crew and there is himself and there is Stede.

But a piece of him is missing. It died at land and not at sea, which is so fucking ironic. Which is so fitting for the broken mess he is.

He will learn how to be happy because “not moving on is worse”.

But today, he is mourning.

Today, he doesn’t know himself.