#and then I hatch over it in a different direction. so it looks like I am talented and know crosshatching

[shibusawaz]

"I'm going to draw a spider today!"

experiences the 5 stages of grief before starting to shade

[glammiketrash]

Monty didn’t attack Bonnie. Freddy did.

This post is not a joke: Ruin gives us enough clues to know that Bonnie was attacked by Freddy the day he disappeared, and Monty saw the attack.

Word count: 2457 words.

Yup, I wrote an entire essay with pictures to take the blame from a fictional gator that became my comfort character. If someone from Steel Wool is reading this: Yes, I’m ok, thanks for asking. If you want to send a cute Monty picture to my inbox, it is open and I’ll be all over the place if you do it.

Now, let me take you with me on this wild ride, because this theory fits the narrative of both Security Breach and Ruin so well that I have to clap at Steel Wool if it is actually correct and not me playing with the puzzle pieces incorrectly. So, here we go!

Bonnie, judging by the golden eyes and his travel pattern, was protecting someone like Freddy did with Gregory. Important damage was directed to the stomach hatch, where a kid could hide.

He has claw marks there, but Monty didn’t got his until the first was decommissioned and was then modified to play his bass.

The scratches in his hatch are green, but also the cracks over it. It looks like it is his base color instead of paint left by the attacker. The next video is from FazFriends, where they look at every single detail in the Ruin animatronic models. Their analysis are totally worth your attention if you like SB!

Monty has black nails, even before he was modified to play Bonnie’s bass. They also are kinda blunt, and the marks the attacker left seem more clean and sharp in the ends.

Now, there aren’t lots of animatronics that have claws. We have Roxy (and I’m guessing Foxy, if he ever existed as an animatronic different to her), The mimic/Burntrap, who doesn’t really seem an option because he’s slow and in life support in SB and sealed in Ruin, and… there’s Freddy. But, and here’s the twist, not normal Freddy, who couldn’t get through gates like Monty until he got his claws.

I’m talking about this thing.

Not only do we have environmental clues that confirm this attack, but also a key clue that wouldn’t make any sense otherwise.

Let’s start with the Prototype itself!

Check those claws. They are sturdy enough to survive all the damage this model has received, and extremely sharp at the end. Now compare Bonnie and its hand together…

It’s a perfect fit. The metal is a bit bent in the left, but if you could lower it, the finger length, the palm, even the distance and shape between the thumb and index are the same than the hole in Bonnie’s chest.

If that detail is true, all pieces of the narrative fit together. Here’s what happened, which I will explain further adding sources:

Monty saw Freddy’s prototype attacking Bonnie (who was in safe mode) in Gator Golf’s catwalks. The hurricane hole-in-one was activated, causing them both to fall. He could see the prototype losing its head and taking damage to its leg, but Bonnie was nowhere: he was either able to go back to Bonnie Bowl by himself using the distraction or the fall knocked him out and was dragged there, where he was heavily damaged.

This next part is not so clear, so I’ll give you my version of what I think happened that night: Bonnie alerted police that a kid was in danger. They show up, but Vanessa sent them away, claiming she was the only person there and it was a prank call (False Alarm message in SB). Vanny uses Bonnie’s trust on Freddy against him: she sends the prototype to go after the kid and him. He makes it to Monty’s, where the hurricane causes damage to the prototype, and is then finally attacked and disassembled behind his attraction to silence him and bury any clue or what happened (his parts are all over the place, one of his arms has weel marks, and Ruin follows the PQ ending where Freddy is disassembled. In SB, endos come out from the lines to attack us, and in Ruin we see the zone where his vanity is infested with STAFF robots, both in its normal version and in VR, where a giant STAFF robot is seen being dragged to a door while it leaves scratch marks on the floor).

Fazbear Entertainment pretended they actually looked for Bonnie and found nothing at all. As a final punishment for his disobedience he was actively being erased from existence: most of his art was removed, and some ask for a re-theme of his attraction (Re-theme SB message). They make Monty the main bassist, giving him his green room too.

These changes are being quickly pushed after his decommission: Bonnie still has power when we find him, Monty falls from the catwalks “a month ago” and snaps in half, a place where he goes every time he skips a performance (Monty Mischief SB message), people constantly ask for Bonnie and there isn’t an approved answer to give, the bowling alley still wasn’t given a re-theme after taking out most of Bonnie’s images.

Despite FazEnt efforts, Bonnie is remembered, specially by a depressed Monty.

His body was modified, he was given his bass, his glasses, his room, his role. The higher ups clapped thinking about the possibility of him being even more popular than Bonnie, his disappearance becoming yet another opportunity to make money.

And it was Freddy’s prototype’s fault. His normal life, the person he admired the most, his own body, were taken from him because of him.

From that day, and after getting new claws, his attitude becomes obsessive, endlessly searching for what was left of Bonnie after the rest gave up: destroying fences to explore the undergrounds, constantly missing shows and always being found in the catwalks, even after being snapped in half by the hole-in-one bucket, trying to guess where his body was. His last known location was his attraction, so he should still be there somewhere, isn’t it?

Let me repeat this: he prefers looking for Bonnie in the catwalks even at risk of his own integrity than performing.

There are more details that show us he does care for him: there are four official images left of Glamrock Bonnie in the PizzaPlex, three of them in Monty’s ride, the last one at the entrance of his own attraction, where some animations can still be seen. These cutouts are in perfect shape, while Freddy’s is light off.

There is also a headless Freddy statue that once you go to FazerBlast screams “prototype”.

It looks like it’s been decapitated by a hurricane, some “cables” coming out of its head like the prototype, which has cables coming out of its neck.

This damage couldn’t have been caused by the earthquake: the head should had fallen to the ground instead of being pinned on the hurricane. Plus, it doesn’t match the theme of the ride, based on cutouts, and while the rest of the elements are placed in scenarios and their composition is clearly studied, this statue breaks the symmetry of the hurricane’s eye element, that is supposed to give you the illusion that you are entering its eye and being pushed out to the main attraction.

What’s more, in a story exclusively about Monty’s past and how he became a solo bassist in the PizzaPlex thanks to Bonnie, attracting the same amount of people than the Glamrocks themselves, a Freddy statue at the end doesn’t make any sense sense at all… Unless it was put there with a very particular purpose.

I like to think it’s part of an environmental story telling from Steel Wool, specially when you read the rest of clues together.

There’s more to say about this statue than the lack of a head: look at its leg damage, and how it matches the prototype’s heavily damaged one, and how the hand that is visible reflects the light making it look like it has long claws despite Freddy having short ones like the rest of the band.

It also has two blue long lines through his chest that resemble the ones in Bonnie’s.

If you still have doubt about how it is part of a scene representing the night of the attack, then you should know there is an easter egg here: if you follow the part of the tornado that goes up, you can see a Bonnie cutout at the very top of it. He’s far away from the rest of the scene and he looks like if he was being knocked by the tornado. If you zoom to look at his face, you can see he has a worried expression.

Monty didn’t destroy any of the images of Bonnie or his previous iterations, not the cutouts, not this poster, not the bass that belonged to him, even after causing damage to his room.

There is a detail in Gator Golf that is easy to miss: An intact poster of the original Bonnie near a log he uses as a hideout in Ruin (we see him quickly going out of it when we approach it).

He looks similar to the illustration at the entrance of Bonnie Bowl, but this image is not very charming. He looks half dead, yeah...? If you then go to Bonnie’s, some big screens are still on and advertising pizza. When you wear the mask, they change to a glitched version of the Bonnie animation, where his eyes go blank in a similar way to this poster.

This spot couldn’t have been used by Vanny: it is decorated exactly like the rest of Gator Golf in the base game, which ends with us saving Vanessa and exiting the PizzaPlex together.

The poster also has a drawing of Freddy stuck on it. In this chapter you can also find the Bonnie’s piñata collectible, the first time we can see his Glamrock design and the first clue of him having suffered an attack (it has a big gash in his chest).

He could have easily taken it down if he wanted, specially when it is so close to his hideout and he’s in such a volatile state, but he keeps it right beside it.

But the real Freddy (or, at least, things that resemble him) seems to cause some kind of reaction even in the base game, yes?

The most common example in Security Breach is the arcade version of Monty’s Gator Golf. There are two possible readings for it, depending on if you think it represents Monty’s mind or if you think it has been hacked to change his behavior.

Hole 1 depicts Freddy separated from the group, a big distance between them. Hole 9 shows him in a dumpster, and Chica, Roxy and Monty playing together. He’s never part of the group, so either Monty hates him or he was hacked so he would hate him, right?

But the main show were he looks happily at him while playing, the fact that he never attacks him even after being hacked, the presence of images of him on other holes all perfectly light and ok like this balloon, and the eye color difference between Hole 1 and 9, make me think Steel Wool is trying to tell us a way different story.

The Freddy in the dumpster is the only one with golden eyes. Hole 9 represents what is happening the night we play as Gregory, the AR part of the AR-cade, and of the main reasons the Monty taking down theory was so popular.

That night, Roxy, Chica and him are working on finding the kid to the point that their cases crack and get dirty, while Freddy not only glitched at the start of the show hours before, but is now also walking around the PizzaPlex doing NOTHING instead of helping (apparently).

It’s the animatronic equivalent of a group project were one of the members does nothing, so you have to do their part and then they show up and are praised. It makes sense he would be angry at the situation and think he’s trash, but even so, there are no real confrontations between them.

But what about Hole 1, then? The answer is the fireflies. There are some fireflies at the left part, but the right, where Freddy is looking, has other set of lights. If you calculate the distance from Chica to him, the center is almost where the hole is, the part of the arcade that is supposed to drag your attention. Having an empty space there feels uncomfortable and a very questionable decision from whomever designed the scene, but if this one is a reflection from reality or Monty’s current mind state, why aren’t Freddy’s eyes gold?

Well, I don’t think he is separated from his band.

I think someone is missing from the picture instead.

Bonnie was erased from the Arcade.

As it was said, these changes were quick and non-planned: they deleted his model from the arcade, but had no time to move and reprogram the positions of the rest of the characters so the space between them was filled. As a consequence, when you play this level, your attention is taken from the hole to the distance between them.

It is void, awkward, it makes you uncomfortable. You know something is missing, but you can’t quite tell what it is yet. It makes you wish there was one more character there even before you knew there actually was.

Once you learn what happened, how his story ties to the place this scenario represents, the void he left in Freddy and Monty specifically, Hole 1 gains a new meaning, and it hits you. When you go back to the PizzaPlex as Cassie and play the arcade, there’s no joy left there. No fireflies, no Glamrocks, just ruins. Two pairs of red eyes and a pile of Nightmare STAFF bots. That’s all that’s left.

But if you still need one more clue to convince you that the prototype was the one that attacked Bonnie, then let me tell you there is a final one that wouldn’t make sense otherwise:

The AR collectibles dialogue.

Cassie always makes a commentary about the things she finds: Monty’s AR plushie being very glitchy, how she wants to add Roxy’s one to her collection, how the her father wouldn’t tell her why they replaced Bonnie and how he was his dad’s favorite…

But she also asks him what happened to him, and gets an answer when she gets the last collectible.

The AR Golden Bonnie is hidden in Bonnie Bowl, next to a Wet Floor Sign bot.

She hasn���t been to Fazer Blast yet.

But the description answers the question that she asked him: a prototype.

Bonnie was decommissioned by Freddy’s prototype.

And the only ones that know are a kid lead to her death that can hear his agony through the Wet Floor Bots and unreal collectibles, and an animatronic blamed for his death and told he’ll never be him, obsessed with his loss and with finding whatever is left of the person that he admired the most and helped him become the star he once was.

[marlynnofmany]

Catching Things in Zero-G

“Reach over the border,” Captain Sunlight directed the Frillian twins. “Make sure they’re touching the floor when they cross into gravity.”

I watched from well out of the way as Blip and Blop nodded, holding muscular arms out for the oncoming guests. No one here was new to gravity fluctuations, but that didn’t mean they were fun.

The first person to cross from the damaged ship to ours was a bright red Heatseeker whose name I’d forgotten. He stumbled a bit on landing, grateful for the assistance. Blip and Blop released his hands when he was stable, looking like parents helping their lizardy toddler off a swing set.

Hard on his heels was Bopburt, the big gray Strongarm whose name I did remember (along with his extreme and hilarious dislike for pizza, from when I’d talked him into trying it that one time). I’d worked briefly on that ship before getting a more long-term position on this one. Nobody had changed since then. Bopburt was still a bigger octopus alien than the Strongarms on our ship. He was surprisingly talented at navigating in zero-g, though.

“No need,” he said, waving a tentacle at the waiting hands. He launched off the wall and landed with a splat just on this side of the seam between airlocks. “Thanks, though. They’ll want help with the cargo. Ah, here we go.”

He tentacle-walked over to stand near me as several other crewmates appeared at the hatch with an expensive-looking shipping crate. I couldn’t tell how heavy the thing was about to be, but it was a cube about the size of the bedside table in my quarters, and it shimmered with pearlescence. Even the label on the top was embossed in gold, matching the seam around the edges. Four different crewmates worked together to guide it oh-so-gently toward our ship.

“What’s in it?” I asked Bopburt. “Do you know?”

He made a rude noise. “Clients wouldn’t say. Rich jerks.”

Captain Sunlight watched with concern. “Is it heavy? Should we get a hoversled?”

“No, just don’t drop it.”

“Right.”

There were far too many people involved already, so we just watched as the whole procession made their way awkwardly through the airlock. Captain Kamm showed up during all this, along with the rest of their crew waiting to cross over. She and Captain Sunlight started a conversation over everyone else’s heads.

It was getting crowded. I moved back toward the hallway, where a few of my own crewmates had gathered to greet the guests. It’d been a while since we’d seen our sister ship, and while a damaged gravity generator wasn’t the best of circumstances, it was still nice to visit.

A furry shape trotted past my ankle. I scooped up the cat before she could get in the way. “Hang on there, Telly. You don’t want to get stepped on. I know it all smells new and interesting.”

Telly ignored me, watching the proceedings with great interest. Her mismatched eyes were wide, and she didn’t react when I ruffled her two-toned fur. This was more focus than new arrivals usually got. She hadn’t run out the airlock yet, but there’s always a first. I kept a close eye on her.

“What kind of animal is that?” Bopburt asked, looking up at the tense shape in my arms.

“A cat,” I said. “Humans keep them for companionship and…”

Telly was chattering — that distinct “I see prey” noise.

I turned toward the hall, but too late. She launched off with a kick to my ribs and flashed toward the gravity barrier.

“Telly, no!” I exclaimed, like that had stopped any cat ever.

Some crewmates looked up at me while others jumped aside with startled noises. Blip nearly caught her, which was pretty impressive honestly, but Telly jumped right past and into the other ship. She immediately careened toward the far wall, meowing and clawing at the air.

“Sorry, I’ll get her!” I dodged through the crowd. “I don’t know what she’s going after.” I ignored the conversation behind me and dove into the zero-g. It was just as disorienting as it always was, but I was heading in the right direction.

I caught up to Telly in midair where she’d bounced off the wall and been unable to catch anything with her claws. Those claws immediately tore into my sleeves, leaving more than one scratch that would probably need to get patched up, but I was busy offering comforting noises as I focused on holding her close with my arms while getting my feet into position to hit the wall.

I landed gently, making sure to take it slow before pushing back off, and in that half-breath pause, I saw something skitter past. “Ah!”

“What is it?” called Captain Sunlight.

“Something moved!” said, trying to look for it while shuffling the cat to get an arm free, and also searching for a handhold before I drifted away from the wall. I found a little hook that had probably held decorations once, and that was good enough. I clutched it tight. Telly tried to scramble onto my shoulder. I did my best to hold her in place. The creature had disappeared.

But Telly was chattering again, looking at the ceiling.

Somebody shouted about wire-eating pests. More people were coming back over the gravity barrier, a jumble of motion and urgent conversation about which tools had the best shot at catching something so fast.

“That’s why the gravity’s out! I knew it wouldn’t fail suddenly!”

“Do gravity wands work in zero-g?”

“Better to use a stun gun. Just nobody shoot anyone else.”

“What about that net in the cargo hold? We could—”

I tuned it all out when I spotted the thing Telly was chattering at. It was a flat little silvery beastie with lots of tiny legs and segmented plates on its back, every bit the kind of thing I could see wreaking havoc in the guts of a spaceship. It clung to the ceiling with stillness that could break into astonishing speed in an eyeblink.

The wall below it had pipes sticking out, curving into the living space in the type of ship design that was a little unsightly but immensely useful right now.

With one hand firmly holding Telly against my shoulder and the other on the hook, I turned in the zero-g until I could stick a foot through the loop of pipes. Then I used both hands to grab Telly, holding her out in front of me as I did a sit-up toward the ceiling. “Get it, girl!”

Telly didn’t disappoint. The thing saw her coming and tried to dash away, but she twisted in my grasp to launch off my wrist in a way that was incredibly painful but worth it. She snatched it off the ceiling and brought it to her mouth with a crunch of exoskeleton that I could hear from there.

Then she dropped it, shaking her head in comical disgust as the crowd cheered. Somebody caught it easily. I caught Telly before she could fully realize she was drifting again. After that, it was just a matter of making my way back to gravity without use of my arms. I ended up crowd-surfing, which wasn’t my plan at all, but everyone was appreciative and eager to help.

When I got my feet back under me, the first thing I did was find Eggskin the medic. “Was that safe for her to bite? She doesn’t usually react like that.” Telly wasn’t trying to jump free, busy licking a paw with vigor.

“Yes, I remember it from her original bio scans,” Eggskin told me. “Definitely on the safe list. These are a known pest with a strong flavor. They’re actually a sought-after delicacy in some circles.”

Eggskin was also the cook, which had seemed strange when I first joined the crew, but it made perfect sense these days.

“Oh good,” I said. “All right, kitty, great job. I’ll get you some treats to take the taste out of your mouth, okay?”

Captain Kamm appeared at my elbow, standing on the tips of her tentacles to get a good look at Telly. “Does your little predator like fish?”

“She does!” I said.

“Then we will be happy to reward her with some.” She waved a tentacle at a maroon-and-teal Frillian who was carrying a mesh bag of various things. “It’s the least we can do after she caught the source of our woes. Thank all the stars that it’s a small one, not old enough to spawn more.”

“Hey captain!” someone yelled. “There’s a gap in the seam of that expensive crate! And the bio-scanner shows traces of droppings!”

“More excellent news,” Captain Kamm said with an angry smile.

Captain Sunlight asked, “That crate has a scanner block, doesn’t it? No way to scan for hitchhikers.”

“Oh yes it does,” Captain Kamm confirmed. “How kind of that pest to leave its droppings by the hole where we can detect and record them.”

“They signed a waiver, right?”

“Oh yes.”

When I realized that the rich jerks had set themselves up for paying to repair the gravity generator that their negligence had damaged, I broke into a grin as well. “Such great news!”

Telly moved again, making me tighten my grip instinctively, but it was just to get at the tray of fish chunks that the Frillian was holding out. I took the tray and held it for Telly to eat from. She made some adorable happy noises.

“So you were about to say,” Bopburt said, “That humans keep these creatures for companionship and, and I think I’ve figured out the other thing.”

“Yup,” I agreed. “Valuable predator services.”

“You’re bleeding a bit there.”

“Ah, it’s not the first time. Worth it.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[senseifupa]

Family Day

  You’ve turned a house into a home and a home into a sanctuary for Choso. He never thought he’d be given the gift of parenthood or love, so he wants to say thank you on an important anniversary.

Sfw, cute Papa Choso x reader. Fluffy, cutesy, teeth-aching sweetness. Reader called Mama but mostly gn.

a/n: I’ve been watching turtles go into the ocean after hatching, and now I’m here. Idk how I got here but we are here so let’s smile about it 😭

Weekends were meant to rejuvenate and catch up on the hobbies you neglect during the week. Waking up just in time for brunch and pajamas all day until time to get out of the enclosure.

Weekends for Choso were meant to play battle ninja princess and make pasta because his daughters wanted it for literally any meal when you weren’t around to say otherwise. He cherished the busy days as much as the calm ones. Running across town to toy stores and the bakery was his rejuvenation today.

“Mama would want the sprinkles!”

“Yea! Sprinkles! With the cereal, too, papa!”

“Make it five!”

With an apologetic expression to the cashier on his face, Choso took his wallet out of his fanny pack while using his free hand to massage his energetic children's heads gently.

“I’m sorry. Would you please give me two of each specialty donut and a dozen matcha macarons? Oh! And if possible, one of your full-sized ube mango tarts?” The twins exchanged "thank yous" to the cashier as Choso picked up the boxes, placing them in the stroller's attached storage bag before heading home.

It wasn’t a lengthy walk home. The weather, however, proved pleasant enough to go a longer route. Early summer was always more forgiving. The blossoming trees shadowed the ground, reprieve from the hint of heat. A soft breeze carried the delicate fragrance of blossoms and mowed lawns that lingered as Choso glanced in both directions before joining the group on the crosswalk.

“Papa. What’s a tart?”

“It’s like a pie but with less crust and more tasty filling like berries or custard.” Choso focused on the pathway ahead while answering.

“Who’s gonna eat the obey tart you got?”

Choso chuckled. “Ube, birdie. And Mama likes it. It’s her favorite.”

Saturdays started with the inevitable cuddle mountain attack from Ani and Nori once they realized it was a no-school day. This promptly led to them dashing around the house as ‘Papa Kong’ chased them until breakfast was done. Perfected chaos.

On this Saturday, things were different. Choso, with the twins accompanying him, instructed you to stay in bed as he ran a few errands. You didn’t even try to protest. You nodded, turning over to go back to sleep for another hour.

While you enjoyed the morning of reading with the humming humidifier in the background, you began to miss the sound of your rowdy duo and patient husband.

When you first met Choso and a teen Yuji, weekends were filled with nothing but noise as Yuji had his 2 friends over often. The liveliness around the house reminds you of those days when you watched the three having the “Is a hot dog a sandwich” debate in your cute little apartment back then.

“We’re back!”

“Mama!”

The energetic war cries sliced through the silence, and you sat your book down. “Well, there my little birdies are! Where did you all go?”

“We went to eat pasta! And we went to the park! Papa took us to get sweets!” Nori stated as she sat beside you, wrestling with her shoes before pulling them off.

“yeah! We got mac’rns and donuts! Ones with berries and sprinkles!” Ani added, setting her small bag down before she climbed into your lap.

You looked to see Choso heading to the sunroom. Curious, you attempt to get up, but Ani traps you with a toothy smile on her cherub face.

“No, no, sorry! Papa said to keep you here until he finished uh… Preppering for you!”

“Preparing for me?”

They nodded in unison, snickering with glee.

The raven-haired girls tugged at your heartstrings with their sweet existence. Spitting image of their father with you being seen in their mannerisms and warm smiles. “What’s happening with you three, hmm?” The pair smiled at you as they spoke in hushed tones about the super secret Kamo party in what could only be described as the loudest whisper known to man.

While your children were talking to you about the squirrel they insist said hello to them, a very familiar knock was suddenly heard at the front door. “Be right back, birdies.”

The knocking persisted, and you knew exactly who it was the moment you saw the pink hair through the door's frosted glass.

“Yuji! What on earth are you doing in town?”

Yuji embraced you tightly, his bag falling to the floor as he practically picked you up, his boyish grin never fading.

“Cho called me! He said he wanted to get together soon. Though maybe I should’ve asked when…”

“Nonsense! Now is the perfect time. It's so good to see you.” You gave his cheek a slight pinch as he closed the door behind him.

He gave you another hug, this time squeezing you like he used to when he was younger. The familial warmth set in as he pulls away, looking at you. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you all. It's been forever”

“It has been. And your nieces are going to be thrilled to see you.” On cue, the twin girls ran into the foyer, screaming with excitement as they jumped onto Yuji.

“You two have certainly grown. You'll be bigger than Uncle soon! Must be eating your veggies, hm?” They giggled as he kneeled down to be at their level, his new tattoos being their point of interest with shock and awe.

A few minutes into your mini-reunion, Choso appeared at the foyer entrance.

“Little brother!” His tone was warm, and his eyes were shining. Choso went to Yuji, kissing his forehead before subjecting him to the most suffocating hug he could. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. I’ll never miss the chance to see you guys!”

Taking in the energy from his most beloved people, he settled his eyes on the twins “Birdies? Do you mind leading the way to the back?”

“Uncle Yu, come on!” They both took one of his hands, you and Choso following behind.

  “Choso? What’s all this about?” Most of them being a much younger version of yourself and Choso; curiosity sets in as you scan over the various Polaroids that trimmed the hallway.

One in particular with you, Choso, and Yuji, eating ube tartlets after your graduation, catching your eye.

“Just wanted to do something for our family to celebrate today,” his lips landed a peck at the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve forgotten a holiday? Oh hell, Cho-cho, I’m so sorry-”

“Baby, you forgot nothing. It’s a new holiday.” Squeezing your hand, reassuring you, “One I declared and didn’t announce til today. So, do you remember what we did on this day 9 years ago?”

You pondered a moment. Your anniversary was a few months away, while birthdays were set for later in the year.

Hanging on the wall was a framed photo of Choso, Yuji, and you. Taken in front of your first apartment when Choso became Yuji’s guardian. It all clicked. “Oh Choso”

You paused at the opened French doors leading to the sunroom. Cherry blossom fairy string lights cross over the ceiling, highlighting drawings made by the twins. Sweets were arrayed on a table, and traditional tea was set in the center of the room. Yuji stood next to the setting, proudly looking at his brother's work.

“9 years ago, you stood right with me as I became his guardian. And you never left.” Yuji smiled on, remembering the moment when you welcomed him into your arms like you’d known him all his life. “You helped me grow. You became a figure in both our lives that we needed, and I haven’t properly shown how much I appreciated that.” Choso led you into the room, the girls sitting down as Yuji began to pour tea and plate their sweets. “You became my family and gave me the best gifts anyone could ever ask for.”

Speechless, you hugged him tightly, butterfly kisses to his now flushed cheeks before you looked around the room. Every detail from past dates to recent events in your lives is shown in the decor. “Thank you”

“Im pleased to say our first Kamo Family Day is officially here!”

Ani and Nori cheered as you sat with them, passing you the designated party hat as Yuji and Choso shared stories of their first years together.

Later that evening

  With both the kids and Yuji settled in for the night, you and Choso settled on the couch with the leftover tart.

Holding the fork out for him to take his bite, you peered over at him, deeply engrossed in the episode of Master Chef.

“I really feel like Gordon Ramsey would make me cry.”

“Hm?” you swallowed, trying to hide your laugh.

“I’m serious.” He glances over at you, low-lidded eyes showing a hint of melancholy. “Remember when the girls talked about how I did their space buns, which were all wonky, according to Nori? That haunted me for a week.”

He finally took a bite of tart and looked back at the TV. “Gordon would have me sobbing in our linen closet over how raw I like my burgers.”

You couldn’t help but grab the pillow, chortling into it. “I’ll protect you Cho, don’t worry.”

[nhlclover]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐑 𝐙𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒

word count: 1.44k

summary: your childhood friend comes home, digging up old feelings once felt for him

warnings: slight drinking, kissing, use of 'y/f/i' which stands for 'your first initial'

Trevor Zegras is a boy you never forget.

Growing up next door to him, he was always in my life. From preschool to middle school, we were friends, spending most moments of the day together. Over time, I found myself being drawn to the boy that lived next door to me. I quickly figured, however, that my crush was one-sided. I did my best to forget my crush but failed to do so.

Even as the years passed and boyfriends have come and gone from my life, my crush on Trevor has always sat in the backseat.

When my mom told me Trevor was coming back to New York for a few weeks in the summer, I was excited. Though those feelings were promptly replaced by ones of nervousness when she informed me he had been invited for dinner at our house.

Seeing him walk up my driveway brings back memories of when we were kids, him doing the same to come and ask me if I wanted to go for a bike ride or hang out in my treehouse. We spent every moment of every summer together.

“Y/n/n. I can’t believe it.” He says. Trevor scoops me up spinning me around once.

“Trevor put me down!” I shriek.

He does so, setting me down, and looking down at me. He’s several inches taller than the last time I saw him, and has definitely put on muscle. Seeing him in front of me I am promptly reminded of my feelings for my best friend. My childhood crush has only grown into something stronger as we’ve gotten older.

“What?” He asks me.

“You look so different.” I say.

“I could say the same about you.” Trevor says, eyeing me up and down.

“I hope that’s a good thing.” I joke.

“It’s good believe me.” He smiles. “God, it’s been so long.”

“Well, you’re the one who lives in California.” I remind.

“Yeah, and you’re the one that decided to go to an ivy league school in fucking Rhode Island.” He jokes.

“Fine, we’re both at fault. Truce?” I ask, sticking my hand out for a handshake.

He snorts, shaking my hand, then pulling me into his chest and tossing an arm around my shoulders. We walk into the house, my parents immediately greeting him like he was their own son. My mom brings him in for a tight hug while my dad shakes his hand, asking about hockey and handing him a beer. We eat dinner, Trevor charming my mother by complimenting her cooking.

“I don’t know why you never dated Trevor, he’s much more polite than any of the guys you’ve brought home before.” My mom says.

“Mom, seriously?” I ask, my cheeks heating up. I dare to look over at Trevor who has an intrigued look on his face.

“You’ve been bringing guys home, huh?” He asks.

“Only two!” I say in defence. “And that was in my first year!”

“That is true. None since.” My mother nods. “So I still have hope for the two of you.”

I groan, burrowing my gaze in my food, missing Trevor’s smile and looking in my direction. We wrap up dinner, Trevor and I clearing the table while my parents put out dessert. Not long after, my parents retire to bed, leaving the two of us alone. Trevor and I crack open a second beer each and sit down at the kitchen table, catching up. He tells me about hockey and his new life in Anaheim, while I tell him about life at Brown.

“Oh my god, you guys still have the treehouse?” Trevor asks, looking out the back window in the kitchen.

“Yeah, I refused to let Dad tear it down.” I laugh. “It’s still the same as when we were young.”

“Shut up, really?” Trevor asks, whipping his head at me.

“Yeah, it’s got the 5SOS posters and everything.”

Suddenly Trevor is by the back door, opening it and walking through our backyard to the large oak tree that holds the old treehouse. I follow him, watching as he climbs up the rickety wooden ladder, holding a beer bottle in one hand. “Trevor, I don’t know how stable it is!” I call to him.

He ignores me and continues to climb the ladder, opening the hatch at the top and disappearing into the house. I stand at the base of the ladder looking up into the house, seeing Trevor standing at the opening and looking down at me.

“Come up!” He calls.

My brain is dragged back to my childhood, seeing the familiar blonde as I normally would in our summers together. I sigh, beginning to climb the ladder that creaks with every rung I climb. When I climb through the opening, I see Trevor sitting on the wooden pallet couch my dad had made for me when I was young. The couch no longer had cushions and was beginning to decay slightly.

I look around, my chosen artwork still scattered on the walls. 5 Seconds of Summer posters remain on the walls, wilting away, and the blue-painted walls are chipped.

“It still looks the same.” I say softly.

“I mean, yeah if the interior of the treehouse went through an apocalypse.” Trevor says, looking around.

I roll my eyes, sitting beside Trevor on the wooden couch. “God, we used to spend so much time in here.” I say.

“Wait.” Trevor says suddenly, standing up and going to the oak tree that shoots through the centre of the treehouse. He scans the wood, seemingly looking for something.

“I found it!” He says, waving me over.

I stand by his side, looking at where his finger is touching the tree. Above it, ‘T + y/f/i’ is faintly etched into the wood. “Oh my God, I forgot about that.” I say, burying my face in my hands.

When Trevor and I were 11 there was a two-week period that we “dated”. I use the word dated loosely as it was barely a relationship, and Trevor and I never kissed.

“I was heartbroken when you dumped me.” Trevor joked.

“Oh sure you were.” I roll my eyes, going to sit down.

He comes around the tree, finishing off his beer. “I truly was.”

I shake my head, laughing at him. “You don’t believe me?” He asks, sitting down beside me.

“Don’t even, Trevor.” I look over at him, seeing him staring intently at me. His blue eyes are still just as piercing as they were when we were young. Still just as captivating.

“What?” I ask softly.

“Nothing.” He says.

“No, no. Tell me.” I say, sitting up and looking at him. He stares back with a smirk tugging on his lips.

“When you smile, your lips still hook to the left.” He says.

It’s an odd quirk I have and everyone still points it out to me. When I smile, the left side of my mouth goes higher than the right, giving me a crooked smile. I grew up hating it. “Ugh, don’t point it out.” I say, covering my lips with my hand.

“Don’t.” He says, pulling my hand down.

His eyes are delicate as he looks into mine. Suddenly he sits up, leaning forward, and connecting our lips. I hear the empty bottle fall from his hand, clinking as it hits the floor. Trevor’s hands come up to my face, softly holding me there. Before I can kiss him back, his lips pull back. I open my eyes, finding his looking straight into mine.

We sit there momentarily, neither one of us finding the words we want to say. I decide to let actions speak for themselves, leaning back into Trevor, and connecting our lips once again. His tongue sweeps past my lips as I part them, granting him access. My hands press against his chest for stability, his slipping down to my waist, pulling me into him.

I gasp softly as I pull away, resting my forehead against his and looking into his eyes once more. “You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Trevor says softly, still slightly gasping in between words.

“Really?” I ask, our foreheads still pressed together.

“I have never not wanted you, y/n.” Trevor says. “Seriously. You’re all I’ve thought about since the day we met.”

“But, all these years… I thought we were just friends?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.” I quickly shake my head at his words. Trevor kisses me again, smiling against my lips. We break apart, matching smiles on our faces. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I giggle at my childhood dream coming true finally.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Philza comes with his evidence backpack, and Cellbit wants the ground to swallow him whole. Too much, its too much, he can't-

"Is now a bad time?" Philza asks, concerned but voice still light. "I can come back Friday?"

"No," Cellbit sighs. "No, I guess... Just..."

He waves a hand in a direction, and hopes Philza can make some sense of it.

"..." Philza doesn't move. "You alright mate? You seem a bit... off?"

"I'm just tired," Cellbit replies. "I just..."

Does he say, does he not? Philza has been one of his few defenders on this island, trusting him even when there's been nothing to trust, thinking on his wavelength and beside him.

He has to, doesn't he?

Cellbit can't make this sort of decision and tell anyone.

"I'm stepping down," Cellbit says. "From investigating. Cucurucho... I'm not working for the Federation, but I can't keep working against them either. Can we just... I'm sorry, I'm sorry I can't be what you need me to be."

"You're not? But-" Philza's brow furrows, and Cellbit fears the yelling he heard in the maze.

He didn't hear the words, but he heard the tone; he knows he is too exhausted to survive that.

"Please, Philza," he says. "Let it rest. The Federation, the Order... I have no part in them any more. Good luck. I hope you find what you're looking for someday."

There is a long pause and Cellbit thinks, maybe, that the silence is worse than the yelling could ever have been.

"Alright," Philza's voice is gentle as he deflates. "Alright... I understand."

Cellbit expects that to be that, watching Philza put the evidence bag away. It stings more than he thought it would, but even that struggles to bring him strength through the haze. He has failed Philza - failed everyone - in giving up. So of course he is now turned away. He knows he's only wanted for what he can give, why did he expect different?

But then the bag is gone, and Philza is still there. He reaches out, takes one of Cellbit's hands, and cradles it in his own. Calloused hands are soft and gentle, and Cellbit understands why so many on the island call him father.

It doesn't feel as teasing any more.

"Are you safe?" Philza asks. "Cucurucho isn't going to come down on your ass, is he?"

He is. Cellbit cannot answer - he just wants to sleep.

But maybe none is needed, because Philza's grip tightens a little, before thumbs start to smooth over Cellbit's knuckles.

"Fuck," Philza says, then he breathes. "Alright. We've got you, King. If anything happens, I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't worry about that dumbass bear, okay? No matter what there are people here who love you, and we will save you."

Cellbit closes his eyes, and nods, and tries to be strong again. He opens his mouth, and-

"None of that," Philza interrupts. "I do it because I want to. Now, when's Roier coming to bed? I don't really want to leave you alone right now, mate."

There's something in Philza's tone, but Cellbit doesn't care to interpret it. Instead he shrugs, "not sure. But really, I'll be fine. I just need to rest."

"I'll bet," Philza looks almost heartbroken as he says it. "Let's get you somewhere safe, then. You good to warp to my place? Phil and Missa?"

"Why?" Cellbit manages to ask as he takes out his warpstone.

"I'm not going to ask you to show me your bedroom, Cellbit. I can make choices about my privacy, not yours."

It sounds so obvious like that, but it's not quite the question he meant. Still, Cellbit just follows along. It's easier, far easier, to just get whatever this is over with so he can get home and to his bed.

He warps and, as soon as he arrives, Philza takes his hand again. He's led to the hatch, and down - "be careful on the ladder" Philza reminds him - to the children's room. Then, not content to leave him there, Philza takes him to the right, through another two security doors - its not hidden, but its certainly protected - to a room all in orange. Around the walls are photographs, and there's an enchantment table in the centre, but Cellbit does not really think of that.

"This is Chayanne's room," Philza smiles sadly as he says it. "But, I'm sure he won't mind. Here, if we just-"

Cellbit tries to make a response, to compliment it, to offer condolences, but instead he is led to the side of the stairs, and then beneath them. Tucked away there, in the dim, behind five security doors and still hidden, is a heap of mattresses, covered in blankets and pillows and even the odd bean bag.

"Get yourself comfortable," Philza pushes him a little towards the pile. "I just need to adjust the doors. Make sure Roier can get in, and Felps. Pretty sure Fit just lets Pac and Mike in anyway. And Forever," Philza's breath hitches very slightly, almost inaudibly. "has access anyway."

Philza hurries off, and Cellbit remains where he was left. He doesn't need the mothering, he is sure, but- But maybe it is nice, to not have to think.

He thinks so much, for everyone, what's wrong with this?

Soon enough Philza is back, carrying two bowls of something.

"I've let Roier know where you are, and Felps as I saw he was awake," Philza says as he passes over a bowl. "I know I ain't your family, but hopefully... Anyway, Chayanne made these before he vanished, always was a better cook than me. Just heated it through - I'm sure he wouldn't have minded it being shared."

"Are you sure?" Cellbit asks. "This is your son's? I'm not-"

"Eat," Philza is a little more pushy this time, even as he sits on the mattresses himself. "You're family, if you want to be. A bit extended, but aren't we all? Forever is my family and he's also yours, and that makes us family too. By some definition, anyway."

"Oh," it's said so simply, and Cellbit has no mind for a puzzle right now. Instead he takes the bowl of soup, and he drinks it.

They eat in silence and, once done, Philza tucks both of the bowls away. Cellbit is nudged again towards the mattresses as Philza cleans up, placing his hat and his coat beside the nest.

Great, ruined wings shudder a little to escape their hole, and despite the feather growth over them Cellbit can see the scars still deep in the flesh, the unevenness where muscle has been ripped away, how they shake with the effort of holding themselves up.

He feels like he needs to do something, to have some response to seeing such fantastic wings laid low - or perhaps to the trust shown to him in their display - but he's just...

He's just tired.

Philza is a little unsteady as he, too, comes into the nest. He shifts the pillows and the blankets and opens his arms and Cellbit- Cellbit can't.

He can't be being offered this, he barely knows Philza, he can't be trusted this much, not when people so much closer to him don't. It feels like a lie, a kind one at that.

"Come on Cellbit," Philza says. "I don't have all night; some of us sleep at reasonable hours, you know?"

"It's not unreasonable," Cellbit manages to retort, even as he gives in.

Stone crumbles to the wave, in time; Cellbit pulls off his outer layers, and slowly climbs into the nest.

Crawls into Philza's arms.

The arms close around him, and ruined wings hide him from sight.

"There we go," Philza whispers. "You've done well, more than enough. Just rest now, mate; I'll keep things ticking over in the meantime."

Cellbit doesn't want things to stay 'ticking over', he just wants them to end. Part of him knows he doesn't really, that he'll want those things later, if only because Cucurucho /will/ betray him, and Forever still isn't home, and its only with them carrying on that anyone he loves will be safe.

Philza runs a hand through his hair; Cellbit's thoughts still.

It's a little while before either of them speaks. To his own surprise Cellbit is the one to do so, with another childish feeling question, another "why?"

"Because I trust you," Philza replies. "And if I trust you, I care about you. If I trust you, you are my flock, and it fucking sucks right now, but we take care of each other. You're alive? That's /all/ I need from you, mate, just for you to stay alive."

Cellbit wishes it was that simple, he really does.

"If I'm here, your house isn't safe," he tries to reason, unsure why he's even fighting it now.

Philza holds him a little tighter, "if my flock safe, what's the point of a house? I'd take you to the real nest, but human lungs don't like being that high for long."

Real nest? Cellbit didn't think Philza had a secret base. It's a better kept secret than most on the server, it seems. To even know it exists, and presumably in the sky...

The idea is crushed by exhaustion, and apathy, and a desperate, desperate need to sleep.

Fingers brush in his hair once more.

"I've got you," Philza says. "Get some rest, mate; nobody will hurt you here."

And if they do, Cellbit has no doubt Philza's scythe will find its way into their eyes.

He curls up, presses his head to Philza's chest, and desperately tries to sleep.

[whorety-k]

Ebony Coasts [Part 5]

Batten down the hatches, my friends. This one is a L O N G one but it was so worth it.

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Marine Conservationist!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: Unloveable - The Smiths

“If I seem a little strange / well, that’s because I am /

But I know that you would like me /

If only you could see me / if only you could meet me /

I don’t have much in my life / but take it, it’s yours.”

Warnings: Ocean mentions / thalassophobia, culture shock and misunderstanding between species, hospital mention, blood / injury descriptions, AMERICAN HEALTHCARE, more horrors of a nine-to-five (Dolly Parton would have words), extreme weather, angst, hurt / comfort

Word Count: 3.9k (SORRY)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 6] [Part 7 (NSFW)]

Driving on uneven roads is difficult enough on its own, and having only one hand while amped up on adrenaline and preoccupied about potentially having lost Corvus forever makes you downright reckless. A particularly hard thump! has you worried about your car’s alignment but you simply add it to the list of things wrong and continue down the road.

The emergency room sucks. You’re not even fully in reality by the time you finish checking in, clutching your still-bleeding hand in your lap with not more than a couple pads of gauze and a random towel you had laying around in the back of the car. It’s a miracle how a human can bleed for over two hours and still be fully coherent enough to lie to their nurses and doctors about a knife slipping while cutting twine.

They don’t believe you for a second, but they both aren’t paid enough and are over-worked enough not to care. Everyone lies in the ER.

A shot of lidocaine and eighteen stitches later, you’re sent on your way with opioid pain meds you won’t be taking and a deep appreciation that Corvus hadn’t scored your dominant hand. It’s still irritating when you get home and try to undress to shower, unable to flex your injured hand at all. You straight up decide against actually cooking, heating up a frozen meal in the microwave and sitting on the couch to overthink everything once more.

The look of complete dismay on Corvus’s face before he left haunted you. 

You had long accepted that the black betta mer wasn’t the most emotionally expressive individual. His carefully neutral countenance rarely gave way to more than a quirk of a brow or occasional lip-turn, so the twisted look of open terror on his pale face shook you to your core both now and then. Hell, in the moment you had even been able to forget about a two and a half inch long laceration in your palm from sheer worry for him. 

You never would have expected a creature so powerful to run.

Another cold spoonful goes down roughly at the thought, and, dissociated, you decide you’ve had enough sustenance. You crawl into bed, exhausted, and feel your limbs sink heavily into the mattress as a deep sigh leaves your lungs. A hollow feeling permeates your chest.

You can’t help the rush of emotions that suddenly overcomes you, choked sobs racking your body as you curl up into a miserable ball around your pillow. The action brings only scant comfort to the throbbing ache in your chest. You don’t remember falling asleep.

The beach is cold, but you don’t care. 

You felt stupid coming back to the shoreline the day after everything, so you waited. Your Monday rolls around and you try to go back to the coast before work, briskly searching high and low for a glimpse of black fins and a glittering night’s-sky of scales. The tides grant you no such favors, and two hours are wasted on nothing when you’re forced to leave. You deflect every question from your coworkers with lies about a kitchen accident.

The next day is scarcely different. You finish your shift in the office like a reanimated corpse, putting in the bare minimum to not have anyone look twice in your direction. You can’t even remember more than the gist of the report you had just read on illegal fishing activity a hour south of you, another damned case of foreign bodies trying to use nonexistent loopholes in the law to talk their way into overfishing protected areas. It was a Coast Guard issue and never should have crossed your desk to begin with, but here you are, tangled in another mess outside of your depth.

You slam the door of your Bronco shut before you stomp onto the dark shore, not bothering to take the cliff down to Corvus’s den this time because you know you don’t have the brain capacity to even think about scaling the rocks. The extra five minute trip down and around the cliffside riddles you with nausea that intensifies when the light of your flashlight finds the entrance to the cavern. 

Of course Corvus isn’t there; you weren’t expecting him to be, yet still it anguishes you. Three days without the merman in your life and you’re already starting to fall apart? It makes you feel pathetic for having grown attached to him so quickly. 

But Corvus had never made you feel that way. Never once had he made you feel like your presence had been a burden to him, eagerly listening to every word you had said to him. He always replied with a caring thoughtfulness to any query you gave him, firm with his boundaries yet forgiving to the innocent faults that had occurred. 

Corvus had a way of making you feel genuinely listened to, even when he didn’t always reply. It was weird to describe someone like him as warm, given his penchant for reserved silence and generally closed-off nature, but the sincere cordiality he had with you had never failed to stir emotions in your chest that you had felt far too anxious to put a label on at the time.

You realize just how taken care of you had always been with the merman. He offered to hunt for you, even if the incident with the ducklings had been an awkward misunderstanding. He made a place for you within his den that could never have any functional use for him as his size. Hell, he would stride along you in the sand instead of asking you to join him in the waves because it was easier for you. You’re wearing a piece of his hoard!

He cared about you.

Your hand gently grasps the raven head pendant, and you sit down in the rickety chair that Corvus has specially gotten for you. The luminescents on the walls seem dimmer than before, and you notice how wilted they’ve become in Corvus’s short absence. Pushing aside the thought that the mer had been putting in actual maintenance to accommodate for you, you brush your hand against the cerulean phosphorescent flora. 

Corvus had taken care of you when you hadn’t asked for it, so you were going to do the same. 

Searching the den for anything vaguely cup-like to transfer water with turns up nothing, so you resort to cupping your healthy hand in that small stream leading into the den. You punctiliously pour the brine over each of the parched plants until they’re saturated. By the time you’ve finished, you notice the vegetation you had started with has already begun to glow brighter. You glow brighter than the cave in that moment.

Wednesday still bears no sign of Corvus, but it does teach an important piece of information: this den had not been abandoned like the others.

You finally gather the courage to check inside of the decorated bed space at the back of the den for the first time since the giant’s disappearance, and you’re flooded with relief when you see the large cache of dazzling objects still lining the walls. Corvus hadn’t left, per se. He just hadn’t returned yet. 

In your jacket pocket is the trusty metal pen Corvus had fixated on so long ago, and in a moment of weakness, you leave it on the stone shelf at the center of the cavern. You had other pens. This one should be his… even if he can’t use it.

You keep coming back to maintain the cavern: wetting the algae and mushrooms, clearing the space of any excess sand the tides brought in, polishing the corroded metals in his collection— nothing escapes your watchful eye. You’ve even accidentally fallen asleep on the bed of furs and grasses, waking up in a flurry to see that you were late for work and needed to leave now, even if you dreaded doing so. 

You always leave a new trinket behind on the round stone ‘table’. Old jewelry, a piece of abalone shell, a tea ball you haven’t used in ages, rose quartz, an entire abalone shell (that you’ve now started to use to hold everything), cool brooches you found at another beach, an enamel pin in the shape of a flying crow, and many other items from around your apartment make their way into Corvus’s den. You rearrange the items into a nice display before you leave.

A week passes. Half of a month. An entire month. The gash on your hand has healed well, the stitches removed with strict instructions to keep the area clean. 

Each day, no matter the weather, you return to Corvus’s beach. The den is monotonous, and recently, you’ve begun to avoid going inside of it lest you have to face the untouched items on the rock shelf more often than necessary. The physical effort to place something in the pile is nothing by now, but mentally, it wears on you.

What if all of this had been for nothing? You had been forcing such doubtful thoughts out of your head for a month faithfully, always trying to look on the bright side. You’ve waited longer for a pay-off before, haven’t you? 

Why was this any different?

…because it hurts. No matter what pep talks you give yourself or happy memories you relive, coming back to the beach hurts.

You’ve been persistent to the point you’re starting to think that you’re nothing more than an annoyance instead of the oh-so-great protector of the coasts you had foolishly thought yourself to be. What a sick fantasy, you think, meddling in the life of something so obviously beyond you. The delusion that you could ever be a part of Corvus’s realm has poisoned you to the point of desperately coming back to the barren sands for even a hope that you’ll see more than the black apparition in the reveries of your mind.

The apartment is a mess. Unfolded laundry piles in the basket, dirty clothes along the floor. You’ve used the same towel to shower for long enough that it’s starting to smell of mildew, but just thinking about the effort of washing a load of towels makes you feel like lead. It took an infestation of ants for you to do the mountain of dishes that piled in your sink. Everyday tasks become chores, and chores feel impossible. 

Still, you drag yourself out to work again today. The weather is awful: torrential downpour with gusts of wind that nearly knock you off of your feet. No one is working in the field today lest OSHA get a taste of blood in the water (literal or metaphorical). You drum your fingertips across the wooden desk as you read a private request for development nearby a protected habitat, opposite hand fiddling with your necklace. You can’t bring yourself to take it off, even if it hurts to see in the mirror each day.

You’re in the middle of a paragraph about intended waste management when a heckling voice jogs you out of it. “I didn’t take you for the goth type,” it jeers, and you look up to see one of the environmental science team leads. A man twice your age. What was his name again?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you retort, audibly weary.

 “The necklace,” he gestures at your throat. Your coworker sits against your desk, uninvited, looking down at you with leery eyes. “Haven’t seen you in that number before.”

You simply shake your head and look back down at the paper, uninterested in the conversation. He doesn’t take the hint.

The lead continues, “You haven’t been as chipper recently. Where’s your spunk? Your fire?—” he follows the words with a ridiculous hand gesture— “Those bags under your eyes could be checked in at the airport.”

You’d laugh at his joke if you weren’t already in such a piss-poor mood. “I’m just tired,” you state, not turning your head to look at him, “I’ll be fine.”

A hand on your shoulder causes you to jolt. “Look, kid, we’ve all got our bad days, but I can tell when someone needs a break—”

You throw the offending hand off of you and stand up roughly, throwing your chair back into the wall in the process. You feel heated. “I told you, I’m fine!” Your words are laced with venom, scratchy and raw and bitter. 

The commotion causes the lead to recoil, distaste written on his face. Other people in the office are starting to stare, and you meet each of their gazes individually. Maybe that was a bit too far.

You sigh, shoulders slumping and head falling forward. Everything aches. “You’re right,” you admit, offering an apologetic look to what’s-his-name, “I’m not feeling well.”

It takes no more than a few minutes to submit your request to leave early. As soon as it’s approved, you rush out of the building. The torrent building inside of you has nothing on the rain around, and you high-tail it out of the parking lot. 

Truly, you didn’t mean to end up back here today. The ocean is too rough, the cliff perilous, the beach an utter mess. The thought of just how stupid your actions are does nothing to stop you, though. 

You run down the embankment to the dock, shoes getting soaked from the crashing waves as you search the water. 

Nothing.

You scramble to the den, slipping and falling down the rocky slope and barely catching yourself before you hit your head. 

Nothing. 

You claw your way through the sands— up soggy hills and over rocky ledges, around complex twists and turns in the sandstone, under and over jutting stones, looking anywhere for alabaster white. 

Nothing.

You’re back at the dock, watching the serpent of metal squirm and thrash in the storm. With unstable footing, you sloppily traverse the writhing mass of steel, barely able to hold yourself upright as you reach the end of it. The storm forces you to your knees, and you place your hands on the lip. Despondency grips you, tearing at your throat.

“I’m sorry!” you cry, voice drowned out by the thundering of rain. “I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry!” A black wave pummels into your small body, the force of an ocean threatening to knock you off of the dock. Still, you cling. You duck your head against the chilled metal, letting out a hissed breath before inhaling a mouthful of seawater. Blubbering, coughing, you rise back up and look out over the waves. They are cold and unflinching.

When the fury of the storm lulls, you force yourself to continue, hoarse. “I messed up and I just want to know how, okay? I don’t know what I did, I—” you choke off a sob, shaking your head, “I-I…” Muscles cry at you to stop, body begging you to return to the car for warmth. You persevere. You have for the last month. 

“I miss you, okay!” The wail carries across the ocean, echoing across the tides back at you like a taunt. Even in the calm of the storm, rain batters against you. The dock stops squirming so intensely, and you take the moment to catch your breath.

Even in your honesty, even in your raw vulnerability, screaming to the heavens for an answer, you receive nothing.

You turn away from the ocean and sink down onto yourself, defeated. The sobs you had been holding at bay spill out, and you hug your knees as you bawl into them. Your clothes are soaked, the wind is cold, and your chest feels miserable. 

Even with the storm beginning to pass by, you feel no better. You will away the tears eventually, wiping wet tears with a wet sleeve that feels like sandpaper, and ready yourself to leave.

The utterly shattered face of Corvus Corax looks at you, a few feet from the edge of the dock, just barely above the water. Eyes of onyx lay wide with guilt, grimacing.

You do not hesitate to throw yourself into the choppy water at him.

Corvus has no time to react to your actions before you wrap your arms around his neck clinging onto him as you gasp like a fish, clutching the coal-and-bone giant close to you like a lifeline. Right now, in the swell, he was.

Tentative arms snake around your midsection, slowly but surely pulling you closer to him. You feel the merman press his face into your soaked hair, taking in a deep breath of your scent before a rumble leaves him. “This is no place for you,” he whispers, and you can only feel him fly through the water like a bolt of lightning, unable to look up from his neck with how firmly he holds you. When you can finally move your head, Corvus already has the both of you on land, beelining it for the den with a look of conviction on his face. 

You didn’t even know you were trembling before you got inside, the surprising warmth of the cavern thawing the numbness in your arms and legs. The frantic betta strides right past the chair in the main room with you in his arms, heading straight for the bed space. It’s only when he gets to the ‘bed’ that he abruptly stops, looking down at you.

“You’ve rested here before.” It’s another half-question, half-statement, and once again it’s correct.

“I fell asleep after taking care of the algae, I’m sorry—”

Corvus cuts you off by hastily lying the both of you on the furs and feathers, the action causing you to let out an ‘oof’ as the air is forced from your lungs. The way he curls and desperately clings to you like a lost child has you feeling all sorts of complex emotions, but you do not fight it. When you open your mouth to speak, he gently shushes you with a shake of his head. You rest beneath his chin in silence.

For the first time in over a month, everything feels okay.

“I hurt you,” Corvus’s gentle voice breaks the silence, barely audible. It’s laced with sorrow so deep that it cuts into your heart. With a shaky hand, the giant mer peels you away from him, looking your entire form over. 

You show him your scabbed and scarring palm, the area pink but almost fully healed by now. You jump to reassure him, “The doctor said it was a clean cut. Easy to heal. I’m okay.”

Corvus shakes his head again, gently taking your injured hand in his. He holds it to his chest, over his beating hearts as he looks deep into your eyes. The downpour inside of him has yet to quell. 

“I hurt you, and I could not bear it,” he restarts, twin hearts pounding in his ribcage. A heavy pause follows as Corvus thinks, wanting to explain himself properly yet lacking the experience to do so. His ear fins twitch up and down as he debates how to continue. Eventually, he sighs, looking around the walls of the bed space. "In fleeing like a coward,” he laments, “I have only hurt you more.” 

The sentence causes the tension to snap inside of you like a wire. “I came back here every day looking for you. Every. Single. Day,” you admonish, tears welling in your eyes, “I took care of the plants. I swept out the sand. I even polished everything so I could keep myself busy!” You go on a total tirade about your activities, Corvus’s gaze not once leaving you as he takes the brunt of it all. Falter, your words catch in your throat as tears spill. “...because I was so afraid to lose you that I couldn’t bear to be anywhere else.”

Corvus’s eyes soften with guilt, expression falling. He makes to respond, but you beat him to it.

“But I’m so glad you came back, because I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t.”

The merman’s mouth shuts, and his gaze returns to you. He does not hesitate to pull you close once more, gorgeous charcoal fins blanketing you. You run a hand over the appendage, unable to stop yourself, and Corvus lets out a blissful sigh. “I was afraid, so I fled without thinking of the consequences,” he explains. You do your best to sit back to watch him talk, but Corvus doesn’t allow you much room to move. He continues, “I am already… an anomaly amongst my kind. I was not created to have these sorts of simple domesticities, and I feared what would occur if I overstepped my bounds.” His words leave you with more questions than answers, but you know better than to prod the mer. Anomaly amongst his kind? He had mentioned brothers before his disappearance. You wonder what the others may be like.

Seeking to comfort the giant as he speaks (and partially out of scientific curiosity), you run a hand over his gill covers again. A soft gasp leaves the merman before he catches your hand in his, withdrawing just enough to look down at you. You give him a shy, cheeky smile.

“...as you are now,” he jests, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you say, not even remotely apologetic.

Corvus lets out a soft huff in response, when his eyes focus on the silver chain around your neck. He uses a talented claw to fish the raven pendant from underneath the neckline of your shirt, gazing upon it with the same fondness you had seen just before he fled. Before you can question the look, you’re shocked by the smile he gives you: a genuine grin, eyes crinkled at the outer corners and sharp teeth visible. For the first time, you see that he has fangs, the tips of canines poking into his lower lip. 

His eyes flick back up to yours, and his smile softens. Corvus croons, “I must apologize again for what I have taken from you.”

You’re confused by his statement, tilting your head at him. “What do you mean?”

The merman gently tips up your chin with a knuckle, keeping his claws away from the skin of your delicate neck as he leans forward to place a chaste kiss to your lips. It’s unpracticed and clumsy, Corvus being so much larger than you, but the cold taste of the sea and ocean minerals has you addicted. A delicate hand cradles your face when you lean into him, and the moment ends all too soon.

“I am here, and I will not be pulling such an imprudent stunt ever again,” Corvus promises as he pulls away.

“Thank you,” you whisper breathlessly, before nestling yourself into the crux of his neck and shoulder. 

The tender moment warms you, the shaking in your body finally coming to a stop. Your clothes may be soaked and salty, but the soft bed beneath and gentle embrace of the mer ease you. You let out a soft giggle that catches Corvus’s attention, and when the merman lets out a questioning hum, you remark, “If you ever do that again, I’m getting my boating license and hunting you down myself.”

Corvus hums from above you, knuckles tracing up and down your back. “From what I have learned, I should expect no less.”

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

HI PLEASE DON'T BE MAD AT ME FOR THE ENDING OF THE LAST FIC I PROMISED I WOULD FIX THINGS

This took far longer than expected I am so sorry but I hope everyone likes it!!

[Part 6]

[devine-star]

okay hear me out, reader is a streamer and during that stream they had forced the boys to play a horror game, but half way through the stream reader left to get water and when he comes back he creeps in and scares the absolute FUCK out of them

it's up to you if all three are separate or it's like a conglomerate

<3

Sam/Colby/Seth x Streamer!Male!Reader!

Note: Ima do them separately! Hope this lives up to your expectations! :)) Seth's is different! He scares the reader :)

Colby:

It didn't take much convincing to have Colby join you on stream.

He LOVES streaming with you and interacting with your fans

But the one thing he didn't know, was you were gonna force him to play OutLast.

Starting the stream you greeted the chat along with Colby

"Chat! So! I have a little surprise for you guys AND Mr. Loverboy here," Colby looks over with raised eyebrows

"You!" You pointed at Colby "are going to be playing OutLast!"

Colby's eyes widdened for a moment before nodding with a growing smile "okay! Okay! I can do that!"

You quickly loaded up the game and swapped seats with Colby so he was in front of camera

You then quickly turned off all the lights and sat next to him

Colby was surprisingly good at this game

About half way through the game you leaned over to press a kiss to Colby's cheek telling him and chat that you would be right back

From downstairs you could hear Colby start screaming "NO! HE'S CHASING ME!"

You couldn't help but chuckle as you climbed the stairs with a water bottle in hand

A little plan hatched in your mind at that moment.

Colby was wearing a good headset, he wouldn't hear you come in..

So you clicked the hall light off and creaked the door open slowly.

From where you were standing behind Colby you could see the screen, he was hiding from the dude chasing him.

Quickly you grabbed onto Colby's shoulders and screamed

Flinching, Colby also screamed and threw the mouse causing his character to climb out of the cabinet and get caught

"NO! I WAS SO FAR!"

You were still laughing as you plopped back into your chair

Sam:

Sam was harder to get to play a horror game

He said he'd only do it if he chose the game and you agreed.

He chose the classic horror game, Slender Man

The stream started with you two putting off the game for a while because you knew Sam was nervous, he may be a ghost hunter and an explorer but he didnt like horror games much

Eventually you loaded the game and swapped places with your lover and pressed a kiss to his head as encouragement.

The both of you got scared multiple times and swapped seats multiple times before you left to get some water

When you returned Sam was on the 5th note and feeling good

He was SO into the game, it was adorable. You could watch him play games all day because of how into he gets

An evil plan popped into your head, you'd probably feel bad about it but you went through with it

"BEHIND YOU SAM!!" You screamed pointing at the screen

"WHAT?!" he screamed panic filling his eyes as he spun around to try and see where the tall white figure was

"OVER THERE! RUN!!" You continued slapping his shoulder causing him to jump and slap your hand away

he lets out a panicked scream and runs in the opposite direction but sadly that was RIGHT into the arms of Slender Man

The headphones were thrown off his head and he quickly reached over to hug you and hide his face in your shoulder as he laughed

"You got me killed!"

Seth:

You were VERY tired

You were doing a sub-athon stream

The more subs you get, the longer you stream.

It was going on hour 34 and you hadn't slept much because people kept donating loud videos to scare you awake

Now, you were sitting in your chair staring at the screen playing FNAF

The one with the nightmare animatronics in the house.

You were a few rounds deep and had died a few times and getting more and more into the game as time went on.

Seth was sitting in the living room and was growing more and more concerned for how long you'd been streaming

Jogging up the stairs he paused outside of your room to listen into what you were saying

"Chat, Im SO scared like...this isn't even a joke at this point!"

Seth debated on the idea of scaring you for a hot moment

Weighing the reactions you'd have from being angry to laughing it off

Deciding he'd take whatever reaction you'd give he crept into your office

The timing of his scare was amazing

You had been jump scared by an animatronic right as he grabbed your chair and pulled it back

You let out scream loud enough to make the neighbors dog to bark

"SETH!!" You yelled turning to look at him as he laughed

Laughter soon bubbled out of your throat, throwing half hearted punches at your boyfriend

"I originally came to check on you cause you've been live for almost two days straight but Decided to scare you," he shrugged pulling up a spare chair to join you in the stream for a while

[ephemerasnape]

I couldn't sleep, so have a dark, smutty one-shot.

Dawn of Regret 🔞

Poacher Executioner x You/MC

“Ye wanted to seduce a dark wizard,” the Executioner purrs, running his tongue across your lips. “Well, haha, it worked!” RAPE

Rape / Seduction / Teasing / Age Difference / Size Difference / First Time / Loss of Virginity / Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Read below the cut or on ao3.

Ends up the great ancient magic-wielding Hogwarts student ain’t so hot without her wand.

Your mind races with regrets as you ponder the situation you find yourself in. How could I have been so stupid? In the end, a simple Expelliarmus was all it took to have you groveling in the dirt before the dark wizards in the poacher camp you’d been raiding.

You’d been readily captured, your wand snapped in front of your horrified eyes, and taken, well, to bed with one of them. The very thought sends shudders through your body. 

You haven't gotten a wink of sleep the entire night, and can already see the sun begin to creep into the tent where you are being held. Being held very closely, one might add. As you'd laid on the uncomfortable cot for the past many hours, your wrists secured tightly behind your back, and your torso further secured around that of a massive Executioner, you’d done little but think of ways you might escape.

Finally, the Executioner shifts in his sleep, giving you the opportunity you’ve been waiting for - his warm body wrapping even more fully around yours. What is on-its-face repulsive gives you a fleeting hope - you are aware that getting out of this situation will involve trickery more than stealth given the nature of the predicament you’re in – and thus your brilliant plan is hatched.

One of the Executioner’s hands is laid on the cot right in front of your nose. You look at it, wondering how dirty it is. It looks surprisingly clean but the guy overall strongly resembles a caveman. Half beast himself.. And you can’t imagine his hygiene is the best. It certainly doesn’t smell the best, although his muskiness does hold a certain masculine appeal, you are loathe to admit.

With a slight grimace, you crane your head forward slightly, tentatively sticking your tongue out and pressing it against his pointer finger. There’s no response. Screwing your eyes shut, you move your tongue slowly up over the length of the finger. It takes several swipes of your tongue to elicit any reaction, but you do feel the Executioner – you believe his name is Mortimus – twitch slightly in his sleep.

Gaining confidence, you move your head a fraction of an inch forward, so that you’re able to engulf his entire finger in your mouth. The massive wizard grunts behind you, and you become even bolder, beginning to suck diligently on his digits.

He begins to stir, and you wonder whether he’s waking up. You can certainly feel something waking up right against your buttocks.

This could actually work…

You swirl your soft pink tongue around his finger, up and down, and alternate with suction, getting so lost in your task you don’t even really notice when the Executioner begins to wake. He gradually pulls you more tightly against him, his breathing raspy behind your ear. You keep sucking on his finger until he decisively drags your hips back towards him, bringing you into direct contact with what feels like an absolute battering-ram of an erection.

“Crupmite,” he growls, fully-awake now, he props himself up a bit on one elbow so that he can watch as he begins to gently thrust his finger in and out your pouted lips.

“Tryin’ to get a wizard all worked up, eh?”

You flush furiously but don’t otherwise react as he finger-fucks your mouth – feeling a bit paralyzed in fear or anticipation.

“Certainly givin’ me... ideas…”

You’d thought, well – you’d hoped that if you could distract him, get him to untie you.. Maybe let his guard down… You might have a chance of making it past the apparition wards around the tent.

But now, in the moment, with him gazing down at you, you wish ardently that you’d waited for another opportunity. You can literally feel the lust emanating off of the wizard – his eyes seemingly boring into your skin as your face burns with humiliation.

Until now, he’d just seen you as a pesky little brat that he had to deal with. Now he sees you as a pesky little witch who is in his bed.

And you see him – sort of. From what you can see from the corner of your eye, he’s apparently taken off his mask at some point, and a ruggedly-handsome face is exposed. Masculine for sure. Not young, not old. Relatively normal-looking for a professional killer. You struggle to make out the details and nervously your eyes dart up towards him just in time to watch a grin spread across his face.

“Seems ye might be good fer somethin’ after all, crupmite,” he gloats, withdrawing his finger from your mouth – a trail of saliva following it. He runs his wet finger gently across your lips, sending a shiver down your spine which settles between your legs. 

When he begins to untie the ropes around your waist, your heart is pounding so furiously that you nearly forget your plan, but the man seemingly has you figured. “Thought ye could trick me, eh?” he teases, his broad hands never leaving your body for even a moment. “I might look like a lumbering oaf, but I’m not actually daft.”

He keeps a firm grip on your robes as he maneuvers himself so that he’s facing you on the cot. Even seated he towers over your small form.

“I’m sorry, crupmite. Ye don’t get to suck my cock today. Nuffink personal, it’s just that it’s too risky. But that doesn’t mean we can’t ‘ave our fun.”

Your face goes white. “What do you…”

Suddenly, you’re pushed onto your back, the man pinning your upper arms down to the cot as he leans over you, leering at you with a menacing expression on his face.

“Ah! Please.. my wrists!” you cry, struggling in vain to get the pressure off of them.

“Thought I’d untie ye so ye could escape, did ya?” he chuckles darkly. “Not likely.”

And so he doesn’t untie you, but even Mortimus has to admit that having your hands behind you, contorting your chest upwards in that position, is not ideal, and so instead he wraps some ropes – not by magic, but, surprisingly, by hand – around your middle, securing your arms to your sides instead before he releases them from behind your back.

You sigh in relief at the removal of the crushing weight from your delicate wrists, only to realize moments later you are still in immediate danger.

What have I gotten myself into?

The enormous man moves forward then, licking your cheek with a broad tongue. You turn away, your face scrunched up in disgust, only to have it forcibly turned back towards him.

“Ye wanted to seduce a dark wizard,” the Executioner purrs, running his tongue across your lips. “Well, haha, it worked!”

He’s fully on you then – his tongue down your throat, causing you to squeal and squirm as he thrusts the organ in and out of your mouth possessively, and you know that it’s a promise of things to come.

Your mouth occupied, Mortimus reaches down to effortlessly part your thighs despite your pathetic attempts to keep them closed. Without a fraction of a doubt remaining in regard to what is about to happen, you scream into his mouth, and move to bite down on his tongue, only to find that he’s anticipated the action and withdrawn in time.

“Ah-ah,” he admonishes, wagging a finger above your face. “There’ll be none of that. After all, I’m on orders to turn you in to Rookwood alive, an’ if you bite me, all bets are off.”

Your desperation boils over. “Please, sir,” you whimper, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Don’t do this. I’ve never… I’m-”

You can’t make eye contact and you certainly can’t finish your sentence. You just lay there, your face beet red - helpless, exposed, and at the mercy of a dark wizard...

A dark wizard who laughs at your misery and humiliation.

“Mmmm… Tha’s perfect,” Mortimus growls, stroking over your chest and stomach, squeezing where he pleases. “So I’ll be yer first…” He yanks down his trousers then, causing you to begin crying in earnest.

This is going to happen...

“No.. No!”

The Executioner smiles maliciously down at you as he leans back just enough for you to be able to watch him fisting his massive erection. 

“An’ there’s no guarantee you’ll ever be able to take another cock after this one.”

You scream as the man presses you down with one arm, using the hand to easily cover your mouth – half-blocking your nose, causing you further distress as your breathing is partially obstructed.

You kick and writhe to get away, desperately trying to protect the sensitive area between your legs. No one has ever touched or even seen you down there before, and to have this man be the first is just unthinkable.. but your struggles are to no avail – the Executioner is too strong, and before you know it, a firm, blunt object is pressing up against your vulnerable opening.

“Your mouth says no,” Mortimus chuckles, running the head of his cock up and down your wet slit, “but your cunt says yes.”

He keeps your mouth covered, stifling your pleas and cries as he forces himself into you. Although you realize he’s probably going a lot more slowly than is physically necessary, the sheer size of his penis splitting you open devastates your maidenhood, sending an intense pain coursing through you.

You are bawling as the man on top of you groans, having broken through your virgin barrier and fully-embedded himself inside your tight passage.

“Merlin…”

The pain is overtaken by humiliation and as your cries turn to quiet sobs, the Executioner begins to move. He’s so tall and broad that you can only see the buttons and rough hand-stitching on his vest – his face seems miles away while he's joined to you at the hip.

When you’ve quieted sufficiently, Mortimus removes his hand from your mouth and instead places it on your knee to keep you spread wide.

“Such a tight little- Fuck,” he gasps, his cock pistoning in and out of you in earnest. His heavy breathing consumes your world as you silently pray for him to finish quickly - for this ordeal to be over.

The Executioner pounds you relentlessly, pulling your body up slightly to get better access – deeper in your cunt – his thick meat battering your cervix.

“Not what ye ‘oped would come of that little stunt, I wager,” he breathes, smashing his wide pelvis into your comparatively tiny one over and over again in rough, forceful movements.

Your tears wet the pelts underneath your head just as you can imagine your blood does your skirts, but you"re crying not so much from physical pain as from despair as you’re violated by this colossal wizard and his colossal prick.

And, all the worse, it was almost entirely your doing.

Seconds later, the Executioner stiffens and a bestial groan of pleasure fills the tent. His imposing form jerks against yours as his release floods your womb.

No…

He collapses onto you then, panting into your ear. As he comes out of his lust-filled haze, he notices your soft whimpers and sobs. To your utter surprise, the man presses a kiss to the side of your face.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” he offers, petting your damp hair in a soothing gesture that you can’t be sure isn’t mockery before he continues as if having read your very thoughts. “’Twas yer own idea, after all.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere V + H: Ace Trappola

Crunchy Henchman Energy belongs to him

He’s pissy, he’s whiney, and he ultimately will listen to whatever you say

Don’t get him wrong 

He doesn’t do this because he loves you so he says

He isn’t following you because he doesn’t have any good plans so he says

Or because he loves to see you happy so he says

Usually coupled with the Spades to his hearts 

He begrudgingly follows your dastardly plans 

A common thing you tend to nag him about is his impulsivity

Like the urge to eternally cripple the hero you were going to simply leave trapped

Or the urge to pour poison into the water supply 

“Why can’t I? We might get lucky and it’ll kill our guy!”

“No Ace! There’s a sense of principle with these kinds of things.”

He’s so used to getting scolded by you he doesn’t feel the need to pull you away

Instead, he’s the one you’re holding back

That’s why he shouldn’t have had to step in

He shouldn’t have to pull you from the edge 

Especially because someone’s given you cold feet:

“What do you mean you’re going with him?! You can’t seriously be thinking of joining that guy! He’s just trying to trick you, can’t you see that?!” 

This was stupid! Bogus! Bologna! 

To be stuck calling out to you from the docking hatch of your hover-craft as the freak in tights stood at the highest spot of the skyscraper holding a hand out to you with that disgusting look in his eyes. He felt like puking at the sight, even worse all he can see is you’re head switching back and forth as you debated. 

Why was there a decision to be made? He was your henchman! Your henchman to your villain! How dare you even look at that arrogant show-pony when he was right here!? How dare you even waver at those insipid baby blues as they offer you a life so far from your own?! 

“But Ace w-what if I really could make more of a difference…being a hero.”

“You can!” The freak interjected making your head snap in his direction. “Please! Just come with me!” 

You swayed with a decision, visibly torn between your henchman and the hero who offered a new life. Ace glared at him, looking down to silently hook his harness to the cargo bay’s safety straps. He eyed the jumpiness of your steps noting that you were not leaning anywhere just yet. He tugged at the harness, ensuring his safety, he began inching closer to you slowly releasing his grip on the hovercraft’s side doors. He was going to grab you. Take his boss back before you got any ideas. Just a couple of feet more. 

You turned back to Ace tears building from under your mask. He couldn’t understand what decision you were making but it didn’t matter; he was close enough to jump. 

“I think I’m going to–” 

Because of its idiot driver, the hovercraft shook, and your lost footing resulted in you tripping. Like the peak henchman, he was he swooped in holding you to his chest as you clung to him. This was the best! He adjusts his feet, cradling you into his chest to create the magical image of your teary eyes looking up at him. He knew it. He knew you’d pick him, in the end. 

“(Y/n)!” 

“...That’s it.” The henchman pulled one of his newest toys. Vetoed by you for being ‘too cruel’ he pulled back detonating the grenade in the direction of the hero who called your name, a name that only he gets to use

“Ace-!” 

You tried, just barely turning in time to watch the explosion of the flaming acid envelope the hero. His screams filled the night air as he melted just as all the plastic dummies had done in the testing stages before; Ace felt that it was a fitting end for a freak as dumb as him; all the better that the hovercraft pulled away blowing the liquidated remains over the city.

It brought a smile to his face.

[mysticalsoot]

miscommunications and mistakes

another fic of my self-indulgent boarding school au

A/N; this was fully based off a dream I had like under a week ago and in all honesty- also reader now has a sister in this au and said sister is dating Tom (don't ask questions okay-)

summary; reader harbours strong feelings for Wil but is too afraid to admit them due to the fear he won't see them for who they are. after they make a slip up after an evening out with him, Wilbur hatches a plan with reader's sister.

tw// swearing, use of bunny as a nickname (reader bounces when excited lol), uses of boy regarding the reader, kissing, lowkey a makeout, dude IDK-- it's like fluff central with dashes of angst..and I wrote Wil as gay in this fic- not making assumptions Abt irl wil- this is just fiction and like super super niche

words; 4.2k

pairings; cc!wilbur x transmale!reader (could be read as nb/non fem presenting, just avoid the uses of boy!)

pronouns; none really! but uses of boy, and uses of y/n!

masterlist

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

Normally on weekends, you'd be back in the dorms, stay on campus and revel in what little alone time you had. The peace of silence draped over the halls. Only broken by a few dorm doors slamming from other levels. 

But nothing was normal with Wilbur. He came prancing into the dorm, practically skipping when he dipped his head into your bunk and gave you the cheekiest grin he could.

"Heyyy, bunny-" You lifted your head immediately at the sound, lifting your attention from your book to his face and your annoyance at the interruption immediately fizzled out when you saw him. He took away all of your worries and anxieties when he looked at you, and you so desperately wanted him more than a friend--

"Hello to you too, bee," You smiled softly at him as you pulled up your legs to give him room to sit at the end of your bunk, "What's got you all giddy this fine Saturday afternoon, hm?" You knew you were smiling so wide that anyone who wasn't as oblivious as Wilbur would've clocked immediately. But Wil doesn't notice the romantic feelings that seep into your gracious smile or the way your eyes sparkle at the idea of getting more time around him.

"Sooo…" He trailed off, leaning to rest his cheek on your knees as he spoke, "I asked your dad if I could take you with me and go out for the day. Like around mid-city? Go to a couple of different craft shops maybe...You know, do what kids usually do these days-" He lifts his head and cuts himself off, a playful smirk replacing his grin.

"Wilbur, I adore you, but I don't think you have the best idea of what 'kids do these days'," You chuckle softly as you meet his eyes and they crinkle at the corners as he leans his head back against the wall, shaking his head and chuckling with you.

"Fine- but would you still like to go?" He asks, his voice soft, only meant for you despite how the question was one that wouldn't hurt if it graced another's ears. It was for you nonetheless but he made sure it was said just for you and god-- if you didn't know better, you'd say there was a reason.

He's straight, Y/N. Get a grip. You thought, like you always did. At this point the phrase was a mantra, said mentally anytime he did something that could even just barely come off as more than platonic. It was a reminder to you that he couldn't feel the same unless he didn't see you as you were. And he made sure you knew he saw you as nothing but a boy. Just as you are.

"Yes, I'd love to," Your smile was soft, warm and you set aside your book and pulled off your covers just to snake out of your bunk. If you'd look in his direction, you would've noticed Wilbur's sweet and soft smile and his eyes big and wide. But you didn't, and so you lived in ignorance any time he gazed at you for longer than a few seconds--which was every time.

"Wonderful.." The word was mumbled under his breath as you put on your shoes, tying them and hopping up afterwards to grab your wallet.

You walked over to the door and waved with your hand, giggling, "Well come on then! We have craft stores to venture into!" 

Your words brought a bright smile to his face as he slunk out of your bunk and followed you, the reminder of his towering height now a thought on the tip of your minds.

"Yes, sir!" He giggles as he follows you, and you feel his hand ghost over your waist from behind, as if he was trying to guide you. Your breath hitches in your throat and stays stuck until his hand is moved back to his side and you let out a small breath, not of relief but you can't entirely tell what feeling lies underneath it.

It wasn't long until you were both outside of Hab 1, exiting into the parking lot and you started walking over to the bus stop. Wilbur grabbed you gently by your wrist and smiled. You turned back to face him, tilting your head to the side as you give him a quizzical look.

He lifted his other hand and dangled your dad's car keys in his palm and your eyes went wide, his hand letting go of your wrist.

"Wil- How?!" Your tone was more surprised as you stepped forward, grasping at the keys almost as if to assure yourself they were real.

"Apparently you're not the only one he favors-" He smiles mischievously and giggles as you grab the keys, before handing them back.

"He trusts you to drive his car? With his child as the passenger?" Your jaw might as well be on the ground with how you gape at Wilbur, at the idea your father trusts him this much. He won't even let Grace drive his car, but then again, she is fifteen and just got her permit so in reality, trusting a sixteen almost seventeen year old with a driver's license a year old actually isn't the worst.

"Yep, he does. I didn't even ask, he just offered. I tried to say no but- Your dad can be scary when he's determined. It also seemed like he wanted to get back to talking to Andy and I'd rather take the offer and let him…talk, than be at the receiving end of his annoyance," He giggles softly as he leads you along across the parking lot to your father's car.

"You mean flirting?" You chuckle softly at the mental image of your dad trying to flirt and falling short repeatedly, even though all he has to do is look Andy's way--

"Okay, that is what I mean-" Wilbur smiles as he scoffs, opening the passenger door and letting you step in before walking to the driver's side and getting in his seat.

The car ride is uneventful after that, music playing in the background as you both hum along to it. Wilbur's eyes intently focused on the road in front of him, more cautious than you've ever seen him before. He was so careful with every move he made, clearly he knew how scary your dad could be when his child is hurt. He could care less about his car getting a scratch or a dent, it's replaceable, expensive, but replaceable. You and your two siblings were not and if you asked any person he passed by through life, he thought the world of you three. You guys are his world and have been since the moment he adopted you. Who knew a mid 20s grad student could find such joy in raising three pre teens into adulthood? The three of you are not pre teens by any means now, and the thought in itself was daunting to him but he found great pride in his kids. Sometimes impulsive decisions you make when you're freshly an adult, pay off.

When Wilbur pulled the car gently into a parking spot, putting it in park and putting the emergency break on--just in case--he sighed and rested his head against the headrest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You smiled softly and chuckled along with it as you dipped your head to meet his eyes.

"You okay there, Wil?" He shook his head, as he smiled worriedly.

"Uhh, besides the fact I just drove one of my closest friends in his dad's car, ten minutes away from campus, I'm fine-" He took a few deep breaths as he took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car. You started to follow suit, unlocking your side when he shook his head, "Nope, wait for me."

The words made a dusting of pink crawl up your cheeks as you looked down, smiling to yourself. Wilbur practically ran around the car to your side and he opened the door, "Such a gentleman," You giggled as you stepped out of the car, his hand held out for you and you take it. He closes the door behind you and holds onto your hand for a few seconds longer than what is platonically acceptable--

He's straight, stop it. Another thought, another mantra and you take a deep breath, walking with him onto the sidewalk. You smiled over at him as he smiled back, his eyes on you for a split second before refocusing on the concrete of the walkway and you felt his arm ghost around your waist again, hovering ever so slightly. It's there, but it isn't and you two walked into the first shop, a small bookstore combined with a bakery.

Your eyes lit up at the scents that wafted up your nose immediately, assaulting your senses with warm pastries and the smell of old books despite most of the books being sold are brand new. Wilbur noticed your glowing expression and giggled, the two of you finding a spot out of the way to look at the menu. He leaned down closer to you and spoke by your ear, "Get anything you want, okay? I'm paying, so don't even try to pull out your wallet." He smiled as he pulled back, readjusting his attention to the large menu board on the wall, his arm going back to his side.

You knew not to argue, you wouldn't win anyways, and he'd go as far as taking your wallet and hiding it from you if you even dared to pay. So you shrugged and tried to find a pastry that piqued your interest and it wasn't hard to--it was still before noon and while you ate breakfast with your sister in the cafeteria, you still had a hankering for something breakfast-y. 

You told Wilbur your order and he guided you with him to the counter, him taking control of ordering and getting you what you ordered a long with a crossiant for himself. He was smiling politely during the interaction and you watched him the whole time, how he nodded at the cashier, bounced his head a slight bit as his card got rung up. The slight frustration in his eyes when the card wouldn't read the first time--every bit. It wasn't unusual for you to notice all of the small things about him, but to watch him do something like this, somehow felt domestic and just made the happy feelings erupt and flutter in your stomach.

He's straight, why can't you see that? Another thought and you're looking away, trying to hide the small frown that crawls onto your lips.

His arm ghosts again, your lower back now, and then his hand is on your side. You were zoned out, didn't notice the small smile on his lips as he nodded to something the cashier said and then he smiled over at you before guiding you to a table by a window.

He pulls out the chair to the left, smiling and waving for you to take a seat, you do with a soft smile on your lips and he takes his seat across from you. This feels so…nice. But misleading. It almost feels wrong to even imagine the possibility of this being more than a close platonic friendship. Anything more than the obvious.

He breaks the silence with a soft smile, resting his chin on his palm while his other hand rests on the table. You catch his fingers twitching, almost like he was going to reach out to you, but restrained himself, "So after this, craft store?"

"I need yarn anyways, it's dad's birthday soon-" You chuckle softly and Wilbur shakes his head with a smile, scoffing playfully.

"When do you not need yarn?" A small and teasing smirk crawls up on his lips as he folds his arms on the table, leaning forward just a hair.

"When I'm dead," Despite the monotone aura of your delivery, you're smiling widely, a playfulness held in your eyes.

Wilbur laughs softly at you, his eyes crinkling like they always do and his nose scrunching up while he smiles warmly, "Let's hope that isn't soon, alright?" His tone has a genuine warmth to it, like a part of him means what he says and you swear the way he says 'alright?' will be the death of you.

"Well, if I do die soon, Andy is going to have a handful with my father," You scoff slightly, shaking your head at the thought, the conversation topic is dark but your smiles and your playful tone makes it softer.

The moment you finished speaking, your order was called and when you went to stand and get it--Wilbur stopped you by placing his hand on yours for a brief moment, his eyes glancing at yours with a gentle warning in them. So he stood up and walked over, grabbing the two drinks and pastries he ordered for you both, and found his spot back across from you. He rested an arm on the table as he ate his pastry, watching as you eat yours with a happy sway.

"You like it?" Wilbur giggled as he watched you, putting down his pastry so he could rest his chin on his palm, and admire you with a soft smile.

You nodded your head excitedly, smiling wide as you chew. Wilbur smiles as he shakes his head in awe before he finishes his own pastry, you following suit.

The both of you had gotten up afterward, taking your drinks and wandering around the bookshop, picking out books or trinkets for one another. You found a space pen for your dad, Wilbur smiling at your thoughtfulness when you saw it, immediately going on about how much your dad would love it-- how he needed one after Evan stole all of his favorite ones. Wilbur found the moment endearing, seeing you so excited about getting something so small but meaningful for your father. You weren't even there for him, but you managed to think of him anyways.

The rest of your afternoon was spent together, walking around mid-city, going to different shops and making jokes, and sharing glances that should be a tell of mutual feelings but you both were much too oblivious. And afraid.

You feared he was straight or rather, you knew he was straight, whilst Wilbur feared that if you knew he liked you, you'd think he thought that way because he saw you as a girl. Which was not true by any means but he knew you too well, he knew how your mind worked, how those negative thoughts would seep in and infest anything positive.

It was inching closer and closer to dinner time for that evening, and you both promised that you'd be back beforehand, even if it was the weekend, neither of you liked being late for things. Regardless of if lunch times were flexible and merely a suggestion, it still bothered you both to be there past time.

"So, did you enjoy your day?" Wilbur asked softly as he looked down at you, a sweet smile on his lips as he admired you. You didn't notice the glint in his eyes or the way he bit his lip gently when he looked at you. How would you notice?

"I loved it, Wil," Your own smile matched his and as you went to open the passenger side door, Wilbur tsked and immediately opened it for you. You groan at him, in playful annoyance as you roll your eyes, "Seriously, Wilbur?" 

"Yes, seriously. I am a gentleman, am I not?" The boy smiles softly, eyes crinkling and glowing with…appreciation and platonic love--which is what you decided to call it and you hoped it was something more.

“If I argue, I'm not going to get anywhere, am I?” You tilt your head to the side slightly, a teasing and playful smirk on your lips as you fold your arms over your chest. You lean against the side of the car door, chin up to meet his eyes. He looked away for a moment, smiling as a blush crawled onto his cheeks, and when he looked back at you, his lips curled into a coy smile.

“You’ll never win, darling,” He smirked softly as he dipped his head close to yours, not so far as to insinuate anything more than teasing, platonic banter, but enough to toe the line just a hair.

“Okay- Fine.”

You tried to ignore the way your voice cracked at the end, how your blush showed on your face, and how your voice entirely deceived you. Wilbur won't notice, you thought, he’s too oblivious.

He did, but he simply smiled to himself as he shut the passenger side door and walked around the car to the driver’s side. The drive was decently silent, a comment here and there but the drive back to campus was short anyhow so there wasn’t much you could say anyhow. Once he pulled into a parking space, he leaned against the headrest, turning his head to face you, a small smile on his lips.

You smiled back and as you looked at him, he felt too distracting. Everything about him, his stupid fuzzy curls, those puppy eyes--the way his dimples and smile lines showed ever so slightly. How his lips were so pink, curled into such a small and sweet smile--his cheeks softly dusted with pink- You wanted to kiss him right then and there, it was stupid but you weren’t sure how much longer you could let yourself hold back. And it wasn’t like you were the one to make impulsive decisions by any means. You weren't someone to let your feelings overtake your logical thinking but god…he looked too pretty to think about it. So you kissed him. You leaned over the central console and you kissed him, it was just a simple peck but it was enough to spark fireworks in your stomach. It felt like an eternity that you had your lips on his when it was mere moments before you pulled back and reality rushed in. How stupid you felt and now how embarrassed you were.

"God-- Wil, I'm sorry just-- Sorry." You mutter out, turning a deep shade of red and feeling that burning feeling of guilt build in your gut. You reached over and opened the car door just moments later and Wilbur did the same on his side, not saying anything in response. You wished he would just yell at you, it's better than painful silence like this.

He stopped at the gate, stumbling over his words, “Uh, I promised Tech I would hang out with him- like over in the Davidson Center so I- I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded, trying to give a soft smile but ultimately failing and walking the other way.

You are an idiot, or at least that’s the conclusion you’re coming to. It isn’t greatly beneficial but neither is impulsively kissing your probably straight best friend, now is it?

You tried to shrug off every negative and intrusive thought, walking up the stairs to your dorm so you could vent and complain to your sister, and that plan couldn’t be spoiled at this point. A few more steps and you were swinging open the dorm door, sighing from relief when you find Grace entirely alone in the dorm.

“Jesus- knock next time!” She jumped in her place, nearly screaming as she got spooked from reading peacefully in her bunk. Her face was written in a slight scowl but her expression softened the moment you met her eyes, “What’s wrong?”

“I fucked up,” You run your hands down your face as you find a seat on the bench, leaning against the desk.

“How..so?” Grace’s voice was unsure as she climbed down the ladder of her bunk, walking over to you, and sitting next to you.

“I kissed him-”

“Wait really? Finally!” She was beaming with excitement and you shoot a glare at her, her demeanor changes immediately, “How bad?”

“Okay well for starters- after he didn't even say anything until we got to the gate and then he told me he was going to see Tech- and that’s fine honestly it could’ve gone worse but I really think I messed up big time now- I mean, he’s straight for fucksake!” You speak all in one breath, taking a deep breath afterward and leaning your head on your sister's shoulder.

She holds back a laugh as she whispers, “Did he kiss back?”

“Yeah-” She was about to cut you off when you spoke again, “But it doesn’t mean anything. It could’ve just been instinct,” You screw your eyes shut, the guilt building up into your throat, burning your insides.

“You’re not going to listen to what I have to say so I’ll say this; give him time to process and you won’t feel like such shit anymore, okay? Now, I think you should go lay under the Saturn V and decompress, yeah? It’s your spot,” Grace smiles softly as she ushers you up to stand, nearly pushing you out of the dorm.

“Fine- Fine- I get it, Tom is coming over isn't he?” You throw a playful smirk as you chuckle softly at the way your sister is acting. She scowls softly and a slight pink tint crawls up her cheeks.

“No- absolutely n- okay maybe. Now, go!” You roll your eyes playfully as you walk away.

A bit of fresh air wouldn’t hurt.

The thing is, the Davidson Center, which is where the decoy Saturn V sits outside, is on the other side of campus. So while it was mid-October and decently chilly, you still managed to break a sweat and be a bit out of breath. The hilly paths and the heat leftover from the day radiating from the asphalt also did not help. A few minutes passed and you were through the gate and under the large rocket.

You sighed a breath of relief at how cool it was underneath, not a single drop of sunlight as the sun began to set behind the hills and trees. So you found a seat underneath, closing your eyes and letting the wind rake through your hair and fan over your face, silence draping your being in a meditative comfort.

And then it was broken, “Hey, bunny,” Your eyes shot open at the sound of the familiar voice, the nickname processing only afterward, and the voice was quickly identified as Wilbur.

“I thought you had plans with your brother?” You ask softly, moving to stand from your spot on the concrete. You didn’t take any steps forward, but he took them towards you.

“I did, he had a meeting with his crew trainer that got in the way,” He shrugs, smiling soft and sweet as he took a few more steps towards you, the space between both of you, now gone.

You smile back, memories of fear and guilt so far gone that all you feel is that usual hoard of butterflies in your gut. He puts his hands gently on your upper arms, his thumbs rubbing softly as he looks down, shuffling his feet. Part of you wants to freeze at his touch, but you instead melt, letting out a soft and satisfied sigh.

“I need to tell you something,” Wilbur starts, his feet stopping their shuffles as he moves his eyes to meet yours.

“Yeah?” Your voice is soft and small, eyes widened only slightly as you search his face for any inkling of what he may need to say--and you come up with nothing.

“I think…” He trails off as his eyes dart from yours down to your lips and back to your eyes, “I think it would be better if I speak with action,” And so, he drops his hands to your sides, letting himself wear a small smirk on his lips before he leans down and captures you in a deep and passionate kiss. One that if it goes on too long, lips will be left pink and swollen from how much love gets poured into it. Wilbur then moves a hand up to cup your cheek, and then his other on your other cheek, thumbs rubbing the soft skin gently as you reach your arms up and drape them over his neck. You pull him down slightly, opening your mouth just a hair more to somehow deepen the kiss even more than it already is. His body presses on yours as you press yours upwards onto his. Soft sighs and sounds of excitement slip out, swallowed by one another as sweet smiles curl up on both of your lips. It’s only when you’re both desperate for air that he pulls back, running his thumb over your lips, admiring how pink they are. And he smirks, “Oh, I’m gay by the way,” He chuckles softly as you swat at his arm, smiling wide from euphoria.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock!” You both giggle and he drops his head down onto your shoulder, pulling you close into a hug.

“I’m sorry about earlier- I was… kind of shocked and I didn’t know how to react. I just- I hope this makes up for it,” He sighs against your shoulder before turning his face against your neck, rubbing your back as he smiles, “I like you, like, a lot. And in the gay way.”

You giggle in response, “You know, I like you too,”

taglist; @sleepyburs @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella

[alwaysonthemend]

Part IV: Storm's a Brewin'

Author's Note: Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger lol. I promise I won't make you wait too long ;)

Word Count: 3812

Warnings: Graphic depiction of death and violence / torture / blood / swearing / pirate shit

18+ only. Minors DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Sleep had been fitful – I had tossed and turned the whole night through, never quite falling fully asleep. Giving up, I had risen and sat myself at Jacob’s desk, prepared to begin the painstaking task of translating my father’s codes. 

These codes are difficult to translate as they are all just a strange amalgamation of different symbols from all across the globe – some Norse, some taken from the Natives in America, some from old sailor’s journals. And some of the symbols are made up, unique to whoever wrote the cipher.

And that is where the difficulty lies in decoding them. 

The first page had been relatively simple. Just a few cardinal directions and talk of a mountain-scape that lies  “at the end of all things” – whatever that may mean. 

Though I had become increasingly more nervous as I translated, as one singular word kept repeating itself.

Danger. 

Over and over and over again that word was printed. Danger of what? It does not yet say. But it leaves a strange feeling in my stomach, as though we are all travelling towards something that we cannot begin to understand.

That one word, scrawled over and over again in my father’s hand felt wrong. My father was not a man who was easily frightened. Nor was he an overly cautious one. And yet here he was, repeating this one word over and over again. It leaves a sour taste on my tongue. 

– 

The sound of heavy footfalls above deck breaks me from my concentration. I straighten from where I had been hunched over the pages, straining my ears to listen.

“Avast! Hoist the black flag!” 

That’s Jacob’s voice, calling loudly over the din. 

A sudden booming noise rings out and I gasp as the sound hits my ears. The whole ship rocks and groans. Startled, I rise from my place and dart to the door. I throw it open quickly and begin a mad dash towards the stairs. Just as I reach the bottom step to begin my ascent, Daniel’s large frame makes its way through the hatch.

“Miss! Stay down here. We are under attack!” He calls, words frantic and spilling from his lips quickly. “It is not safe for you on deck.”

“Under attack by whom?” 

Daniel does not answer right away, instead grabbing me by the shoulders and leading me back to the captain’s room. 

“In here.” He ushers me through the threshold and shuts the door behind us. 

“Daniel, by whom?” I demand, my voice rising a few octaves. 

“We do not know, miss. They had black flags, so we hoisted our own but they continued their attack anyway.” 

The ship rocks again as yet another boom sounds from above and I cringe at the sound of the wood creaking and groaning. 

I look to Daniel, hoping that he might ease my nerves, but he looks just as concerned as I am. His eyes are trained on the door, his head tilted as he listens. 

“Daniel?” I start, but he shushes me. 

The distant sound of men’s cries make my heart begin to pound. Anxiety wraps itself around my chest like a vice, squeezing the air from my lungs as I think of Jacob up there. Skilled as he may be, he is injured.

“Daniel, please.” I whisper and finally he turns his eyes to look at me. 

He quirks a brow, silently telling me to continue. 

“The Captain… his fighting arm is injured. I-” I silence myself, unable to formulate my worries further. 

Another loud crash from above. The ship rocks. Men are yelling. 

“The Captain is skilled with both hands. He will be alright.” Is the only answer Daniel gives. 

We both fall back to silence, listening. 

There are no more sounds from above. The ship is steady and it seems that the attack is over. 

“Stay here.” He says, before slipping out the door. 

“Daniel!” I call, but he’s gone. 

I stand there for a long moment, debating within myself whether to follow or not. The last time I snuck away had not ended well, but the worry brewing in my belly is too much for me to bear down here alone. 

Huffing a breath, I slip out the door and follow. 

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Joshua POV

The adrenaline from the attack begins to wear off, leaving in its wake a bone deep exhaustion. We had not been prepared. Least of all for an attack from our own people. 

We had been forced to kill them. Their bodies now lay on the deck, their blood oozing into the wooden beams of the Starcatcher. For some reason, the thought makes me nauseous. When we first set out on this God-forsaken journey… I never imagined that we would have to kill. Let alone so many. And yet here we are, our hands drenched in blood. 

Jacob had sent the remaining crew (we had lost three in the melee) up to the deck to dispose of the bodies and clean the best that they are able. Myself, Samuel, and now Daniel, stand and watch in silent horror as Jacob drags the captain of the enemy ship (he calls himself Avery) across the floor – pushing him roughly into a chair. Jacob has his cutlass drawn, its blade dripping red already as he points it. I hate the sight of it. 

“Who the fuck sent you?” Jacob demands, a dangerous edge to his voice. His eyes are narrowed and that terrible, stone-like expression sits on his face. My twin he may be, but sometimes I find even myself intimidated by him. 

Avery only narrows his eyes before spitting a glob of saliva at Jacob’s shoes. 

“No one.” He answers, eyes blazing defiantly. “No one sent me.”

“And I don’t believe you.” Jacob answers back. 

“You’re not special. We saw a ship. So we attacked. We weren’t sent by anyone.” 

“You attacked another ship with black flags?” Samuel demands from beside me, but there is a tiny tremble to his voice.

He had been rattled, too, by the death that had taken place above. I forget how young he is, sometimes. There is no doubt in my heart that he can handle himself and I worry not that he can carry his own. But still… he is only just a few years past boyhood. 

“Guess we didn’t see ‘em.” 

Jacob hums before turning to me. 

“Ropes?”

I nod, stepping forward towards the man and rounding behind him. With little care, I roughly grab Avery's wrists and cross them behind the chair. I wrap the rope around them tightly, making sure to secure the knot well before stepping backwards. Jacob ‘s eyes flash to me and then towards Daniel and Samuel. I lock eyes with him for a moment. We stand frozen there for a moment as I read the words behind his eyes. He wants us to leave. Subtly, I shake my head and return to stand next to Sam and Daniel. 

“You see,” Jacob starts, turning back to Avery and sheathing his cutlass. “I just can’t seem to believe you.” 

“Pity.” 

Jacob laughs suddenly, stepping in close so that he stands between Avery's legs. 

“You have one more chance. Who sent you?” 

“Fuck you.” 

It barely registers as Jacob rears back and slams his fist into his face, the blow making his head snap to the side and a groan of pain to leave his lips. 

Daniel gasps quietly beside me and Samuel takes a step forward. I grab his arm and hold him back.

I wish desperately that Jacob had sent them away at least. 

“I asked, who sent you?” Jacob demands again, grabbing the man’s collar and leaning in close. 

Avery spits out a wad of blood onto the floor. 

“And I said fuck you.”

In a flash, Jacob’s hand reaches down, gripping his pointer finger and snapping it backwards. Avery cries out in agony, tossing his head back as his chest heaves. Jacob reaches down and grabs another finger but this time Avery stops him, his words tumbling from him frantically. 

“Fuck, okay!” 

Jacob pauses, hand still wrapped around his middle finger. He stares, and though I cannot see his face, I know what emotions lie there. Doubt, surely. And stone-cold rage. 

“I don't know who he is. He sent me to find you."

“I'm not so sure I believe that, either.” Jacob answers ever so calmly, as if he has not just snapped this man's finger in two. I refuse to look at the damage. I would rather spare my mind of the sight. 

With a sickening crack, Jacob breaks another finger. This time, Avery's scream rings out louder before trailing off in a pained whimper. All bravado gone, he looks up at my brother with pleading eyes. 

"Fuck, stop!'

“Keep fucking talking! Everything. Tell me everything.” 

“No.”

Jacob hums, stepping backwards and crossing his arms. He places his hand on the handle of his cutlass, running his fingertips over the metal. 

“Keep talking. Or you lose your whole fucking hand.” 

Avery whimpers again, shaking his head and blinking up at Jacob. No doubt the pain is making his thoughts fuzzy. 

“He found me.” He finally relents, his shaky voice ringing out in the silence. “At Nassau. Said he wanted a ship called Starcatcher hunted down and sunk.” 

“He knew my ship by name?” 

He nods once before casting his eyes downwards to look at his mutilated hand. Immediately, he shuts them tight and looks away again.

“He said… He said leave no one alive except the girl.” 

Jacob’s face twitches - a barely there sign that he's startled. 

Daniel and Samuel both turn to look at me with wide, questioning eyes, as if I somehow know the answers. I do not look at them, instead keeping my eyes trained on my twin. 

I knew that bringing a Calloway with us was dangerous, especially one who holds those damned papers. The papers that Jacob has dragged us all over the fucking seas for. They're a dangerous item to possess. Few know of their existence… but those that do want them. Covet them. The last remaining information on where it is. And it seems now that the secret is out. A target has been painted on our backs. And on her back as well. 

Jacob leans in close to the man, his face merely inches from his and his voice is low as he speaks again. 

“What was his name?” 

Avery meets his gaze, a renewed fire in his eyes. 

“I will not tell you.”

This time, the blow that Jacob lands on him is even harder. The crack of his nose beneath Jacob's fist makes me cringe. Blood pours down his face, coating his lips and chin.

Jacob rears back and strikes again. And again. Once more before finally Avery relents. 

“Thomas! Thomas Lowe. Fuck, please. That's all I know! I swear that's all I know!” 

The breath punches out of my lungs and it feels as though ice water has been dumped on my head. It feels like a dream… a terrible, awful dream that I must wake up from at any moment. 

“You're a liar.” Jacob growls, fisting Avery's collar in his grip. “Thomas Lowe is dead. I killed him.” 

The man shakes his head frantically, a crack in his submissive character at last. With a wicked smile - his lips stretched wide to reveal his red stained teeth, he shakes his head. 

“You sunk his ship, aye. But did you ever see his body?” 

“He's fucking dead.” Jacob says through clenched teeth, his body visibly shaking as his anger mounts. 

“Killed your girl and you couldn't even kill him back.” Avery says with a grin, huffing a laugh as he watches Jacob’s face contort with guilt. “Some Captain you are.”

That does it. 

“You don't know shit!” Jacob’s voice cracks as he screams the words, spittle flying from his lips before he strikes again. 

With a ferocity I have never seen from him before, he lands blow after blow on the poor man. The sound of knuckles against flesh is sickening and the barely there groans of pain are muddled and wet with blood. 

“Captain! Enough!” Daniel finally calls, running to grab Jacob by the shoulders and pulling him off. 

With a mighty yell Jacob shoves him away, sending Daniel crashing to the floor. Without missing a beat Jacob turns back to continue his assault. 

“Sam!” I bark, grabbing his arm and yanking him forward. “Help me!” 

Jacob does not cease in his attack – only growing more frantic with each strike. There is no pause, no moment where he slows down. Blow after blow until at last Avery no longer moves, his head only lulling to the side with each strike as blood cascades down his face. His chest is still. 

Jacob’s teeth are bared in a feral snarl as he fights against us. Samuel grabs his arms and pins them behind him as I grab his shoulders and pull him backwards. 

“Jacob, he's dead! He's dead! That's fucking enough!” 

It's like he can't hear as he keeps struggling against us. It takes both of us to keep him restrained, but he keeps fighting to break free. 

“Stop!” 

All three of our heads whip quickly around to see Y/n, her face awash with horror, standing just on the inside of the threshold. There are tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Please stop.” She echoes, a tremble in her voice. 

Like a switch has been flipped, Jacob stills.

As he does so, Daniel rises from his place on the floor, wincing quietly. 

“I told you to stay in your room.” He murmurs, eyes casting towards my twin with a look I never thought he would ever give to Jacob: Fear. He is afraid of him.  

“And I didn't listen.” She says, pushing her chin up and attempting to hide the shake in her words. 

Samuel - our sweet, young Samuel, watches Jacob with wary eyes. He's afraid too. 

Jacob does not speak for a long moment. His chest heaves and his hands - clenched at his side and sticky with blood, tremble. Finally, he shrugs his shoulders from my grip and with slow, deliberate steps, he walks to where Y/n stands. 

She shrinks away from him, pressing her back into the doorframe as he passes by.

Just like that, he disappears out of sight.

“How much of that did you hear?” 

She casts her eyes to me, a determined glimmer in her eyes. 

“All of it. And I think you owe me an explanation for what the fuck is going on.” 

I nod at her once, staring after where Jacob had disappeared. I feel as though I may vomit after such a display from him. Whoever that was… it was not Jacob. Not my Jacob at least. My Jacob would never have done such a thing. Least of all in front of his own little brother. 

Samuel and Daniel are afraid of him. His crew – once his closest friends, are terrified of him. This poor girl, plucked from her home with no explanation, is afraid of him. 

Dear God. 

I think with detached horror. 

I might be afraid of him, too. 

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

My heart pounds as I close the door behind myself and Joshua. For once, there is no aggression in his form as he regards me – in its place nothing but a sadness that makes me feel as though he might shatter before my very eyes.

“I am tired of the secrets, Joshua.” I tell him, sitting down heavily in the chair by Jacob’s desk. “Tell me the truth. All of it. I think I am owed that, at least.” 

Joshua nods, sitting himself on the foot of the bed. 

“It is a long story, lass.” He sighs, brown eyes boring into my own. 

“We have time.”

He sighs deeply, his shoulders drooping – like he’s folding in on himself. 

“What do you know of your father? Of your family?”

I shake my head, clasping my hands in my lap. 

“Very little. My mother died when I was a child. My father not long after. I never was told anything.”

Joshua nods once, one hand coming up to tap his pointer finger upon his bottom lip. He looks so much older now as I look at him. For the very first time since meeting him, a pang of sympathy shoots through me. 

“The Calloways used to be famous – they were always sticking their noses where they didn’t belong, inserting themselves in others business… and somehow always managing to make a profit from it. Your father was just like them. Until your mother died. He fell off the face of the planet.”

“After my mother, he was driven mad with sorrow. Or so my grandmother told me. I never knew what he was like before. I only knew the man he became.”

Joshua’s gaze feels piercing – like he’s looking right through me. This time, it does not make me feel threatened. There is pity there in his brown eyes. And though a part of me hates it, a small broken little part of my soul is oddly comforted.

“Rumour began to circulate that he was on the hunt for something… something that could bring someone back from the dead.” He pauses a moment and I hold my breath, afraid that if I break the silence he will stop speaking. But he carries on. “And apparently he found it. Or at least was told where it is.”

“It?” I ask him, leaning forwards slightly, my palms growing clammy. 

“A mirror. A mirror that is said to grant one wish. And your father found where it was.”

“He was always gone.” My eyes fixate themselves on the dim glow of the lantern. “We never knew where he was.”

“He was all over looking for its location – asking and begging and bribing until… I guess until he finally found someone who knew. But word got out, people heard that he had found what he was looking for. And of course… The promise of any wish granted had every living pirate out on the hunt for him. We are all doomed to one of two endings, Y/n: a watery grave or a noose. To wish for freedom… money, jewels… It is a tempting thing.”

“That is not what the Captain is after, is it?”

Joshua shakes his head. 

“He seeks something worth far more than that. Just as your father sought to bring back your mother, Jacob wishes to bring back his wife. They killed your father for the information – And I fear this quest may claim Jacob’s life as well.” The last part comes out as only a whisper – an admission likely not meant for my ears at all.  

The information swirls around in my brain – pieces clicking into place for the first time in my life. 

“They killed my father, but he had already left the directions back in Easthallow… so they did not get them.”

“Aye" Joshua affirms with a nod. "But still people want them. And they know that you have ‘em. Jacob got to you first, but there is a target on our backs now.”

Detached dread courses through my veins. There has always been a part of my mind that knew that I would return home one day… that all this would just be a thing of the past in a few years time. 

And yet here Joshua is, squashing any hope I once had. I am wanted. We all are. And as much as I resent Jacob for convincing me to come along on this journey… had someone else found me first I might not be alive now.

Either way, this knowledge changes everything. 

“I cannot go back home, can I?” 

Joshua meets my gaze with a sad smile. 

“Afraid not, lass. Not now, at least.”

I nod, folding my hands back in my lap. My eyes prick with tears. This is more than I ever bargained for. 

“Those papers,” Joshua starts, pointing at where they sit on Jacob’s desk, “they are the key to all of this. If we can just get to the mirror before anyone else does… before someone takes it for their own selfish uses, this all can end. We can find you somewhere safe. Somewhere where no one would think to look for you.”

“Thank you.” I whisper, casting my eyes to the glow of the lantern. There is one last piece though, one last question... though I know it is not my place. I ask anyway. 

“Thomas Lowe… who is he? Jacob said that- that he killed him.” I cannot help but to stumble over the phrase. The thought of killing – especially Jacob doing it… it leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. I fear that I may have misjudged him. I thought he was different, kinder. I believed there to perhaps be a good man beneath his anger and cold exterior.I thought that he was not like all those other pirates that I have heard stories about. 

“We thought he did. And there is still a part of me that hopes that man was lying.” He trails off, no doubt thinking back to what Jacob did to him. “There is no way for us to know, now.”

“Thomas Lowe killed his wife?” 

“He did. A sick, twisted version of revenge.” Joshua says sadly. “It is a long and sad story.”

“I want to know it.” 

Joshua opens his mouth, no doubt to decline, but I interrupt him. 

“You all took me from my home. Your brother threatened to kill me. There is a target on my back and now you tell me that I cannot ever hope to return home. I am owed the full truth, Joshua.”

His shoulders slump. He senses that I will not back down. 

“Before I tell you, you must understand that Jacob cannot know that I told you anything. He barely speaks about it even to me. And I was there when it happened.” 

“I promise.” I tell him honestly, meeting his piercing gaze. “I would rather not be on the Captain’s bad side, anyway.” I murmur, clenching my hands nervously. Still, I am angry at myself for misjudging him so harshly. Charismatic and handsome as he may be… he’s a cold blooded killer like all the rest. 

Joshua must sense my unease. Perhaps he sees the fear in my eyes as he suddenly sits upwards, eyes looking into mine almost frantically. 

“My brother… the man you see today is not him. Not really.”

I raise a brow. I cannot yet bring myself to believe him.

“After everything that happened, he changed. He’s had a difficult life, Y/n. I beg of you to not judge him too harshly.”

“We’ve all had a hard life, Joshua. That’s the way of the universe. We all have dead people.” I argue, crossing my arms over my chest. “He killed a man with his bare hands.”

“You don’t understand.” 

“Enlighten me, then.”

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Mirror of the Damned Taglist:

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[bungalowbear]

eighteen.

ranger!nanami x psychic gym leader!reader, pokémon au, wc: 900

there’s a line that references part four, but isn’t necessary to understand this part if you haven’t read it. as always thank you to the lovely @likelilacwine for inspiring this series 💜

Nanami takes you into the next room and sits with you on the velvet loveseat. His arms continue to hold you until you’re no longer trembling. Lucario sits at your feet, his red eyes studying you closely. Eventually, you find your voice and tell Nanami about the man you encountered in Yuji’s mind.

“He said Yuji is his vessel,” you explain.

“Who is he?”

“He didn’t tell me his name. But his face, Kento.” You adjust your position so you’re facing Nanami. His arms fall away from your body. “He wasn’t human.”

Neither of you say anything for a minute. Nanami’s expression is pensive. You worry your bottom lip.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you whisper.

“Do what?”

“That…man told me I helped set him free when I entered Yuji’s mind.” You lean forward, clasping Nanami’s hands with your own as you plead to him. “But I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t. Please believe me, Kento. I’d never want to hurt Yuji.”

Nanami carefully removes one of his hands from your hold. He lifts it up, gently holding the side of your face is his large palm. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

He nods. 

“I wasn’t fair to you before,” Nanami says. “So much time has passed, and all this time I’ve been holding onto the person you were back then and refusing to understand who you are now.” He says your name. His eyes bore into yours with a warm intensity. “I’m sorry. You had your own struggles, and yet, I only thought of myself. I can’t imagine what it was like for you in that gym. With her. I was just so hurt that you wouldn’t talk to me, that you left without saying goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, Kento. I’m so sorry,” you repeat, lowering your gaze. “I was scared that after our match you wouldn’t want to see me again. I was so ashamed of myself.”

“We’re different people now.” Nanami takes your chin between two fingers. He lifts your head to look at him. “But I’m glad we’ve found each other again.”

Lucario rests a paw on your knee, eyes lighting up in recognition. You cradle his face in your hands. Lucario is a special friend, having hatched from the egg you gifted Nanami when you were teenagers.

“You’ve grown so much,” you say fondly.

Lucario leans into your touch. He and Nanami don’t leave your side for the rest of the night.

At sunrise, Yuji wakes up to an empty room. He recognizes the walls of your gym’s infirmary, but he doesn’t remember how he got here. Sitting up, his legs hang over the side of the bed. He presses the heel of his hand against his temple. His head is pounding, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s overheating anymore.

Yuji slowly rises, passing Growlithe who lays fast asleep on the floor beside the bed, and steps into the hall. It’s early and no one is around, so he decides to take a walk outside. Maybe some fresh air will do him good.

Stepping onto the grounds behind your gym, Yuji smiles at the sight of Pokémon strolling about. He walks along the path toward where Espeon and Psyduck are lounging near the lake’s edge. Yuji notices their bodies tense when they turn their heads to look his way. When he gets closer, Espeon dashes away, leaving Psyduck to waddle after him.

Yuji’s brows rise in surprise. He was pretty friendly with them when he was here not too long ago, so why are they running away from him now?

Turning his head, Yuji notices a group of Pokémon huddled together at the edge of the garden just staring. As if he’s a stranger they’d never encountered before. Yuji takes an experimental step in their direction and it’s enough to make them scatter.

Yuji winces when a sharp pain radiates from his temples. His senses are foggy as he turns back toward the lake, hoping a splash of cool water will clear his mind.

Nurse Aurora informs you that Yuji is awake, but that she’s unable to find him. You and Nanami quickly decide to split up and search. Nanami heads outside to check the grounds while you begin to check the inside of the gym. You try the kitchen, then the living room, and a few training rooms. Yuji is nowhere to be found.

“He isn’t outside,” Nanami tells you when you meet back in the foyer.

“He has to be here,” you say. That man’s words echo in your head. I will challenge you once I have control of this body. “He wouldn’t just leave.”

A bark catches your attention and Growlithe comes running into the foyer from the main hall. Nanami bends down and asks him what’s wrong. The answer appears a moment later. 

Heavy, measured footsteps sound from the hall, stopping at the threshold of the room. He looks like Yuji but immediately you know it’s not him. He has the same pink hair, but he seems to have grown a few inches and his build has thickened. Somehow, his features have sharpened, no longer rounded with youth. You’re thankful he only has two eyes, although red and unfamiliar, but your stomach drops when you see those black markings.

“Yuji?” Nanami calls out to him.

The stranger smiles. Wide and toothy.

“You may call me Master Sukuna.”

series masterlist

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[toska-writes]

“Surprise!”

Summary: 6 members of the bad batch decided to through a party for the last member

Paring: TBB x GN padawan reader (ITS PLATONIC FOR EVERY MEMBER)

Warning: none just fluff!

Word count: 1377 (Not proof read)

Notes: it’s my birthday tomorrow! The 23rd!! So it felt appropriate how self indulgent is this 🤷‍♀️

In their defense it was sensible not to tell Wrecker or Omega until the day off. They even thought of keeping it from Tech with his blabbering mouth.

Hunter Echo, and Crosshair need the perfect planning though so that was out the window.

"Why didn't you tell me!" Omega tugged at the arm of Hunter for what seemed the millionth time as they walked through the small shops.

Hunter sighed before saying. "Sorry kid, but we couldn't risk it. We can't really surprise them."

Omega didn't seem satisfied with the answer yet until Hunter took her by the shoulder before whispering. "It was Echos idea anyway."

She smiled up at him before trying to lead Hunter to the next little shop. He was going to get an ear full from Echo if he found out Hunter threw him under the bus.

Omegas giggles filled the air snapping Hunter back to his young sister- She claimed that unlike the others she would find the gift you would like the very best for your birthday.

Satisfied she held her hands out in a grabbing motion for Hunter to drop a few credits in.

•✩•

Wrecker swatted Tech's hand away for the millionth time in the last rotation.

"Would ya just let me finish this in peace?" Wrecker was balancing with one foot trying desperately to hang that last banner from the roof of the Marauder.

"If you would hang it sufficiently." Tech muttered to himself finishing blowing up the rest of the balloons.

"Hey!" Wreck whipped his head around, for a moment his entire life flashed before his eyes before Wreckers hand slapped the wall and he fell flat on his back.

The banner now had one end hung neatly from the ceiling and the other completely lowered hung on the wall.

Wrecker only laughed trying to return the breath back to his lungs. "Well Tech hope your happy with that, I'm not gettin' back up there again."

Echos laughed filled the right space, quickly he walked over with a hand outstretched.

Tech only scoffed before throwing a ballon at the head of his brother as he stood. "That is quite alright Wreck, we don't have that much time anyways."

Perfectly on time with his words the hatch to the ship open and in rushed Omega pushing past their legs and up into her loft.

"Well whatcha get 'Mega." Echo called after her.

She didn't poke her head out until the sound of paper crunching filled the room.

"It's a surprise! I gotta wrap it."

Hunter walked over and took a seat momentarily looking around the now brightly colored ship. A small smile appeared on his face.

"Food is all prepared Hunter." Tech spoke over his shoulder, he quickly checked something off of his data pad.

"I'm comming Cross then." Echo took a seat next to the sergeant. "You better finished wrapping." He now directed at the younger girl.

Omega flew from her loft and place the small package next to the small assortment of food and gifts. "Ready." She jumped up to high-5 wrecker.

•✩•

You didn't think Cross was one for nature walks, or sight seeing before as that is what the story he came to you with.

Confusion flew out the window however we Crosshair starting giving you lesson in sharpshooting.

As he talked you didn't dare not to pay attention knowing that this was a privilege to even be breathing near his precious sniper.

Laying down Crosshair snug the blaster into your shoulder and positioning your hands the right way.

"You need to keep steady both internally and externally." He spoke quietly to you lining up your shot.

Breathing in once, the out again you pulled the trigger. The shot wasn’t far from the mark, but with the expert sniper breathing down your next you felt differently.

Crosshair took the time to adjust what seemed to be wrong and let you have a few more shot.

The last 3 neared closer and closer to the center mark of a tree you both decided on. Your focus was all on the center-

That was until Crosshair’s comm beeped sending a rouge shot up through the trees.

“That’ll wrap it up for today then.” He held his hand out waiting for you to return the blaster.

“That last shot was hardly my fault.” You tried to defend yourself getting to your feet quickly.

“Good snipers will tune that out, I thought that’s what the Jedi taught you.” A dastardly smirk edged onto his face.

“Yeah well they did, but I wouldn’t say I was the best at it.” The duo started the small walk back as the twin suns just started retreating over the horizon.

Breaking the comfortable silence you said. “Any reason you wanted to go shooting today?” With this being one of the days the group had nothing planned that was dangerous it was refreshing.

“Doing something nice.” He shrugged pulling a toothpick out its case and putting it right into his mouth.

“Yeah right.” You snorted, quickly bumping shoulders into the man. “Because you were so nice when you first met me.”

“You were weird kid.” He barley spared you a glance before continuing. “And you still are.”

Coming up on the ship now the hatch door wasn’t opened which was odd for a nice cool night. Glancing at the other man quickly, clearly he didn’t think nothing strange so you shrugged it off and opened the door.

Squinting your eyes into the darkness you barley could make out a few figures before the lights flashed on.

“SURPRISE!” A chorus of people yelled. Looking around all the bad batch members had their eyes on you as Omega flew into for a hug.

“You like it?” She asked with a giddy laugh.

“You guys it’s wonderful!” The siths themselves couldn’t have wiped the tooth eating grin from your face. “I barely remembered, how did you know.”

“Your records has all the information needed.” Tech stepped forward wrapping an arm of his own around your shoulder and giving a quick squeeze.

You laughed for saying. “Yeah we’re gonna talk about that later.”

“After food of course!” Wrecker shouted point to a table filled with many delicious treats.

Crosshair planted a hand on your shoulder flashing you a smirk before joining Wrecker with a plate.

You looked around once more, the streamers were magical hanging from the ceiling and the banner… well it definitely made you laugh.

To the side stood Hunter and Echo with their own grins in their faces. Rushing over quickly you gave no warning flinging your self and trapping both of their necks in your arms.

“Thank you too.” You whisper at both of them. “I can’t remember the last time I celebrated something like this.”

“Any time kid.” Hunters warm voice filled your ears.

“Now would you go eat? Some of us trekked along forever looking for it.” Echo playful taped your shoulder.

“Why of course.” You turned, Omega had a plate already stretched out for you and the pair quickly found a comfortable place together on the floor.

Even Gonky got into the spirit with his own party hat on.

Omega rambled on for a minute or two before she finally recalled. “Oh I got you something! It’s way better than the others so you should open it first.”

With your laugh echoing around she jumped up and quickly grabbed the gift off the table.

“You guys didn’t have to get me something.” You said as the package was handed carefully to you.

“The least we could do.” Wrecker boomed from behind you. “Now open it up so I can see what it is.”

With Omega’a and the rest of the Batches eyes on you you peeled the paper away.

Inside was a trooper doll that matched Omega’s, this however seemed to be a tad bigger and had more colors on it.

“Look now we match!” She said delighted. Pointing to the shirt, which seemed to be homemade, Omega said. “It even matches your lightsaber!”

Tears welled in your eyes now. “Oh Omega it’s perfect.” Scooping the girl into your arms you came her a tight cuddle.

This is how you wanted to spend all your birthdays, happily surrounded by your family.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook

[lukabitch]

I want to request this with Trickster, but I'd also like to give you the opportunity to write this scenario for any killers you might want to, so whoever you'd like along with him :) But, I was wondering how the killers would react to a male survivor (hello from a fellow gay) returning something important that they lost during a trial to them (a good luck charm, maybe, or something from their world prior to the entity like their add-ons). I'd imagine most survivors wouldn't care due to their position or be too scared to find the killer to return the item, so I just wonder how they'd react <3 Thank you so much

Omg? This is going to be so adorable! Thank you so much Anon! I added little blurbs at the end cause I thought it was too short. :)

The Trickster :

He lost his favorite earring. It was a red rose stud.

He didn’t have time during the trial to find it.

So he was sulking about it think he lost it for forever.

Then he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around and it was you!

“I think I found your earring.” You held out your hand showing the stud.

Let me tell you this man was over the moon.

“Oh my lovely thank you so much!” He put the stud back in and showed it off.

He gives you a peck on the cheek saying you deserve a reward.

Obviously you were embarrassed but it felt nice.

Expect some special treatment next trial for your act of kindness.

You let out a small sigh looking up at the taller man. “If you don’t mind could I ask why it’s so important?” You watched him laugh to himself. “I was wearing this little stud when I discovered my calling.” You still had a curious look on your face. “When my band mates were burning alive I heard their screams. It was like beautiful symphony and I was wearing this little beauty.” Now your look was on of worry and concern. “That’s very interesting.”

Ghostface :

He lost his favorite camera! Good old Philly was missing!

He was very heartbroken over the loss. It contains his last moments in Philadelphia.

He didn’t know where he lost it but it happened during the trial.

Hearing a twig snap he whipped his head in your direction.

“I saw you dropped this.” It was Philly!

This man picks you up off the ground in a hug.

“Thanks handsome I owe you one don’t I?” You shake your head ‘no’ to him.

He’s shocked you didn’t want anything in return for your kindness.

“Are you sure sweet thing? I wouldn’t mind.” You still shake your head ‘no’.

He’s not taking no for an answer. He lifts his mask and gives you a quick kiss on the lips.

The kiss left you a bit stunned which he laughed at. “I can’t give you nothing in return handsome.” You shake off your shock and straighten yourself out. “What’s the story behind it.” The sigh that left his mouth was a happy one. “It captured my last night in Philly. That was a fun one.” You know how sadistic this man is. The less you know the better. “That must have been fun for you.” The smile was bitter sweet.

Micheal Myers :

He’s lost Judith’s journal after chasing on of the survivors he didn’t bother to learn names.

He was freaking out over it. He couldn’t handle it he needed it back.

Soon panic turns into anger and he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Micheal? Is this yours?” He heard your voice and turned around.

He’s anger dissipated seeing the journal.

He takes it and hold it to his chest. “It is yours I’m glad I found it.”

Your laughed calmed him more then he expected.

He pulled you close giving you a hug.

“Aw thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” You were grateful obviously.

He treated you more different then the others after this. He saved you for last and would either mori you or let you get hatch.

He kept you in his arms for as long as he could. “I Hope you don’t mind but I looked through your journal.” His grip got tighter all most threatening. “Don’t worry I thought they were cool. I get why you were worried.” His grip loosens. You feel his mask being pressed against your forehead. “Thank you Micheal.”

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I'm gonna fix that lack of Lemmons/Rosie prompt - okay just these two and in the blue hours of the morning, before sunrise.

Rosie's favourite thing about Ken is watching his hands work, seeing his focus. Rosie's least favourite thing is sitting quietly after a mission, after interrogation, and watch Ken pace back and forth in front of a downed Fort that some lucky bastard managed to fly home and Rosie just knows that Ken is thinking all the things he couldve done differently, as though his care and genius can be a protective shield against the Germans. As though every man in all the planes that Ken touched couldn't feel his soul in every part of the war machine, flying them to meet their maker and found some kind of solace.

(Reads like an actual drabble, but how about you pick up where that left off?)

[Let's see how I tone match, eh?]

Robert knows where Ken will be when he leaves interrogation. He knows Ken will be there for a good, long time. So he takes a little time to get himself put back together. He takes a shower and shaves and puts on a fresh uniform. He doesn't bother with hair cream.

The sun is setting as he bikes to the runway. A few of the ground crew wave at him, but no one needs to point him in the right direction. Robert just aims himself at the worst-damaged fort. It's on the last hardstand. There's a hole in the side, down by the tail, large enough for two men to stand in. Ken's sitting in the hole, legs hanging out. He's got a socket wrench in his hand and is doing something to the floor. He doesn't look up when Robert stops beside him.

"They all made it back," Robert says quietly. "Bunny saw the shot coming, got Milkweed out of the way. It was the last hit they took as they turned around to come back."

Ken doesn't answer, just keeps working the socket wrench. The rhythmic noise of it carries on the air.

Robert goes over to the hatch and climbs in. He stands in the belly of the fort and looks towards Ken. Ken puts the socket wrench down and yanks at the floor panel. It lifts up, and he tosses it through the hole.

Robert walks over to Ken. He glances out at the floor panel. It looks fine to him. It's not dinged or dented or torn. He looks down into the bare bones of the fort, and it all looks fine too. The beams that make up the shape of her are all there.

Ken looks up at Robert. He shakes his head, his way of saying he doesn't have it in him to talk right now.

Robert crouches by the open floor. "Okay," he says. "Hi." He touches Ken's cheek. "I'm back."

Ken turns his head and kisses Robert's palm, then he pulls his legs into fort and drops into the floor shaft. He holds out his hand, and Robert passes over the socket wrench.

A moment later, Ken turns on his flashlight, and Robert lays flat on the floor to try and see what he's doing. He's turned towards the outer bow of the plane, the socket wrench creaking again. Robert drops his hand down so it's near Ken's head, and Ken puts the bolts into his hand. Supplies are, as ever, tight, and any pieces of the forts they can keep, they do.

Ken holds up the socket wrench. Robert takes it. Ken kicks the panel, and it pops off, late afternoon sunlight pouring into the underfloor. Ken looks beautiful as the light envelopes him, his freckles bright in his face when he looks up to meet Robert's eyes.

"Come here," Ken says, standing to one side.

Robert turns over his hand and pours the bolts into Ken's palm. He puts them in his chest pocket so he can secure them, then he holds out his hand to help Robert down.

Robert slips between the beams, having to suck in his stomach a little. "No wonder you're all so lithe," he says.

"It helps," Ken replies. There's no smile on his face, but his eyes are warm.

Robert finds his footing and follows Ken's pointing finger. There's two beams just above waist height on Ken. One has a small dent, about the width of Robert's thumb. The other is completely buckled, curled in an arc that looks wrong and awful even to Robert's untrained eyes.

"You couldn't see that from the outside," Robert says. "How'd you know it was there?"

Ken looks out through the hole. There's a fort on the next hardstand, nearly stripped for parts. "Penny Baby," he says. "I found the same thing on her when I was pulling panels while you were up there." He touches the buckled beam, then curls his hand over it. "She got hit about the same place."

"It was a smaller hole," Robert says. He remembers it because he'd walked the pilots around Penny Baby himself, explaining what each bit of damage had done to their fort, assuring them they'd done their best and letting them get used to the reality of what they'd be doing twenty-four more times in order to go home.

"I don't know why it didn't tear open like this one," Ken says. "Might not have known we needed to check the bones if we hadn't needed to break her down so fast."

Robert places a hand on Ken's back. "Hey," he says. "Look at me."

Ken does. He looks haunted. Terrified. "It's a load-bearing beam," he says. "If it goes, the whole underside comes apart. If we hadn't--"

"But you did," Robert says.

"Other forts have gotten hit like this," Ken says. His eyes drop to the buckled beam. Robert takes hold of his chin and turns his gaze back to his own.

"You're not an X-Ray machine, Ken. You never will be. You're doing the best you can the same as the rest of us, okay?"

Ken closes his eyes. His breath shudders out. "Eleven," he says.

Robert pulls him into a hug. "I know," he says. It's the number of forts that didn't come back. The ones that got chewed up too much to even limp home. "But not because you couldn't see through them, Ken. Okay? You're not the one shooting them down."

Ken doesn't answer. His breath is hot against Robert's collar. A damp spot is spreading on Robert's blouse. He presses his cheek to Ken's hair and hums a love song. The bolts in Ken's front pocket dig into Robert's chest, and Robert thinks that's what it must feel like for Ken to carry these forts with him, even if they don't come back. Heavy and hard against his heart.