#baffle ceiling prices

[dekmar-dekor]

https://www.dek-mar.com.tr/en/product/baffle-ceiling

[bafflemetaltavan]

https://www.dek-mar.com.tr/en/product/baffle-ceiling

[miniimight]

"S'NOT MY BIRTHDAY..." silly girl, thinking you need an occasion in order to be spoiled by them!

with gojo, nanami x fem!reader

notes trying out this writing thing again lol

in previous relationships, you had to deal with the bare minimum. a generic greeting card on valentine's day, a bunch of snacks for your birthday, and a necklace for christmas because 'that's what girls like, right?'

now, with him, it's different. he has no qualms about getting you anything your eyes linger on, no matter the price. he had so much money, he picked things up and swiped his card without so much as a glance at the cost. it baffled you sometimes.

it happened was early on in your relationship. you then quickly learned to just sit back and let him spoil you!!

GOJO

satoru's fingers were laced with yours as he swung your connected arms between you. he inhaled deeply, looking up at the high ceiling of the mall. "today's a good a day as any to throw some cash, don't you think baby?"

you giggle and squeeze his hand. "one or two things should be okay." that's what you budgeted for, anyway.

he rolled his eyes, scolding you for your tiny imagination before allowing you to pull him along to your favorite stores.

it wasn't long before your eyes spotted the store you loved but couldn't afford. your stare was glued to the window display, all the cute tops and pants and bags and shoes and bracelets and...

when he felt your steps slow, satoru glanced at you. you were laser focused on the clothing store—naturally, he sharply turned towards it.

"hey!" you squeaked at the sudden change of direction, and you hurried to match his pace again. "toru??"

"i saw you looking, baby, why didn't you just say you wanted to check it out?" he teased.

you looked over to the side, embarrassed. "i... i don't wanna tempt myself, cus i know i'll gaslight myself into buying something."

he narrowed his eyes, not in scorn but in confusion. "who said you were buying anything?"

"huh?" you chirped, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

gojo stared blankly at you. you really were adorable, thinking he wouldn't spend his last dime on whatever you wanted, regardless of how trivial it was. a smile pulled at his lips.

"my sweet girl," he cooed. "my sweet, slow girl..."

you gasped indignantly and poked satoru's side, earning a giggle from him. "slow?!"

"obviously, i'll by whatever you want, silly." he tugged you towards the entrance of the store.

"but..." you resisted his pull. "it's not my birthday or anything..."

huh? he pouted. "as if i need a special reason to get you stuff."

"but..." heat creeped up your neck as you reveled in the unfamiliar feeling of being spoiled. something inside you told you that he was just being nice and was waiting for you to shut him down, save him the expenses. "it's not fair, is it? i didn't get you anything so far..."

his face fell slightly as he pulled you away from the busy traffic of the moving crowds. satoru pulled your chin up to face him. "i dunno what's running through that pretty head of yours, but answer me this, okay?"

you nod.

"you want it?" he gestured towards the store.

you hesitated, eyes straying from his face. he quickly squished your cheeks, causing your eyes to widen and snap to his. "—!"

"don't overthink it, pretty girl, just tell me."

"yesfh." you answer dejectedly, muffled against his hands.

"then you'll have it." he told you. "i want you to have anything and everything you say you want. i wanna buy it for you. and being able to hear you say 'my boyfriend got this for me' is all i need in return." he grinned cheekily.

you pouted, looking unbelievably cute in his eyes. he despises the partners of your past for leading you astray, thinking you needed to do something special in order to be appreciated. don't worry, he'll fix that in no time.

he pecked your pursed lips before hugging you. "okay?"

you giggle. "okay."

"yay!! now let's go!!"

by the end of the day, he had to call ichiji to help carry all the bags to the car. he was so proud of you!

NANAMI

kento was your shadow as you glided through the store, picking up things and setting them down.

"oh, this is so cute!" you squealed holding up a tee for him to see.

he smiled, more because of your excited expression than the t-shirt. "it is. you should get it."

you hummed, in thought. your hands drifted over the material, picking up the tag before inhaling sharply. "nah, another time."

he frowned. you'd done this at every store so far, picking up things you said you liked but leaving them behind. he was bewildered. "but... you like it, do you not?"

you winced, hoping this topic wouldn't come up. "i do! it's just the price. out of my budget, you know?" you said, trying to be light. you burned with discomfort. might as well just say you're poor.

kento frowned. "oh..."

"yeah."

you quickly turned away, avoiding the confused look on his face.

"y/n." he called you.

"...yes?" you glanced behind you, seeing him standing over the shirts.

"are you under the impression that you would be paying?" he asked.

you blinked. "oh?" yes, you were, but you were surprised to learn that he had the opposite understanding. "well... yeah."

he frowned, disappointed with himself. "i'm sorry. i didn't intend to make you feel that way."

you stepped closer, rubbing his arm soothingly. "what are you talking about?" you laughed softly. "you didn't make me feel any kind of way. i'm not upset, if that's what you're getting at. i never expected you to spend your money on me."

his frown only deepened. oh, how he has failed. "why not?"

you faltered. how did you manage to make it worse? "i'm not sure i understand..."

kento shook his head. "have you been thinking you'd be using your own money for purchases? this whole time?"

"um..."

"sweetheart, i'm paying. for everything, at all times." he refused to hear anything else, cutting you off when you opened your mouth to retort. "we'll have to circle back to the stores we previously visited."

it was your turn to frown. "kento, it won't be my birthday for a few months! you don't have to get me anything right now."

"what does your birthday have to do with anything?" he asked, genuinely confused. "i don't mean to interrogate you, my love, but i think i am the one who doesn't understand."

"you'd get me anything i asked for?" you shoot back, spelling it out for him. "for no reason?"

"for one reason," he replied. "simply because you want it. it'd make you happy."

warmth spread across your face. "that's two reasons." you mumbled.

he clicked his tongue, exacerbating your bashfulness when he pulled you into his side. he kissed your forehead. "you make me laugh, y/n. i was so confused as to why you weren't getting anything. surely that's not how you usually shop."

he bought that shirt for you, as well as the many things you thought were cute at all the stores you stepped foot in. now, you shop without any hesitations.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[kyoonnyoon]

i am desperate for more feral-little-gremlin!soap content.

so here is one of my HC situations for exactly that.

preview:

no doubt his brief-yet-bitter experience with guerrilla warfare in las almas got him thinking about new ways to tinker and toy around with literally anything he can find around base to make new explodey things.

for the first few weeks after they rtb’ed from the whole “graves, shepherd, and hassan situationᵗᵐ,” the gang noticed soap acting unusually distant. he wouldn’t hang around the rec during downtime as much, wouldn’t stick around to chat with his fellow soldiers in the mess for longer than necessary, etc.

gaz noticed immediately—he actually thought he was the first to notice soap’s strange behavior—and mentioned his concerns to price. upon keeping an eye out on soap for a few days, price seemed to agree. however, soap did well during drills and training recruits, still worked out in the gym and sparred with his teammates, continued to banter with ghost and gaz whenever he had the chance… nothing particularly worrying about his behavior triggered price’s “fatherly instincts” to initiate a one-on-one chat with the scot, so he settled for keeping soap’s overall condition in his periphery for the time being.

after all, there were more pressing issues to attend to. like the complaints he received from several soldiers regarding missing materials. nothing too serious—half empty detergent bottles that were otherwise full, match boxes, some shoelaces, a desk chair (?)—but it was certainly an interesting mystery to sniff out. for now, price orders ghost to check in with his sergeant. just in case.

it only took ghost a few hours after debrief and rest—the entire 141 squad nearly collapsed in the debriefing room before they stumbled along (first to medical, then to their respective rooms)—to notice the shift in johnny’s schedule. he said nothing, simply observed his sergeant’s eagerness when excusing himself off to his room with a quirk of his eyebrow.

…so of course he began tailing the scot, curiosity getting the better of him. at first, he thought johnny might be struggling with what he’d been through in las almas, needing time to recover alone with his thoughts. that was… until he watched his sergeant whip a straw from the mess from his pocket and use it as a makeshift hose to siphon detergent from the bottles in the laundry into a cup he also pocketed at some point during lunch.

baffled, ghost continued to trail the scot—he was privy to several more strange acts of minor theft—until johnny, seemingly satisfied with his haul, nearly 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 along to his room before 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 (a bit maniacally, ghost thinks) and shutting the door behind him.

at a loss, ghost simply leans back against the hallway wall and blinks at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. it didn’t. price 𝘥𝘪𝘥 tell him to check in with his sergeant at some point, so he allows himself a moment of blissful silence before he stalks over to johnny’s door and knocks.

“aye! jus’ a sec,” ghost hears a bit of shuffling, objects being moved around, something dropping to the floor—“fuckin’ shite,”—more shuffling, stilted footsteps headed toward the door, and finally the door opens just a crack to allow johnny’s head to poke through.

ghost raises an eyebrow and looks down on his sergeant without a word, opting to wait him out.

“ah, LT,” the scot carefully maneuvers around the door, closes it, then stands at attention in the hallway for his lieutenant. ghost can’t help but notice that johnny is trying to make the movements to block his bedroom door as subtle as possible, but he’s been there, done that plenty of times to recognize johnny’s attempts for what they really are. his sergeant merely blinks up at him, an almost shit-eating grin wavering on his lips as he tries—and fails—to curb the obvious excitement that shines brightly in his eyes, “wha’ can i do ya for?”

ghost simply graces his subordinate with an unamused stare, “open the door, sergeant.”

johnny hesitates for a split second, seemingly weighing his options, then enthusiastically hauls his lieutenant through the door before locking it behind them both.

ghost is rather proud of the fact that he can school his outward reactions to almost any situation with relative ease. he, however, cannot stop his eyes from nearly bugging out from behind his balaclava (of which he was grateful still sat snuggly over his face to obscure the rest of his sheer disbelief).

bombs. everywhere. mousetrap triggers, pringle can pipe bombs (?), mini molotovs made with shooter bottles… and johnny in the middle of the chaos looking like a proud father of a newborn babe.

ghost supposed he was, in some way, a proud father, having put together all the materials he niffled and nicked from different places on base to make these things.

what a dangerous little fucker.

“fuckin’ hell.”

“ain’t they beautiful, LT? ‘been messin’ ‘bout with anything i can get my hands on, jus’ like in las almas.” the scot sighed happily, “really learned a thing or two, an’ i wanted to try my hand at makin’ somethin’ new.”

as johnny buzzed around, pointing to the various contraptions and pouring his little heart out about what each one was for and what kind of destruction they dealt, ghost couldn’t help but realize that johnny is one hell of a safety hazard. a genius, yes. but a safety hazard, nonetheless (he is secretly excited to watch johnny detonate his creations, knowing full well the scot will scream and howl with unbridled joy—and maybe shake ghost for a reaction he will hold back with his arms crossed over his chest, a slightly fond sigh, and an exasperated tilt of his head).

[hvndredbattles]

The companion piece to this piece from earlier! (Which means this is also for @brvo6 <3) This version is told from the POV of Yves, who is not totally dialed into the singular task of Keep Price Alive, and therefore could tell you more of what actually happened.

A rumble rattles the building down to its foundations. Moats of dust drift down from the ceiling. The comms line is quiet. The-

The comms line is quiet?

Yves tightens his grip around his rifle.

When he looks over to Gaz, Gaz is already looking back, a mirror of Yves's own concern.

Normally a commanding officer would have chimed in by now. Price, ideally. He's captain, after all. But Yves would gladly take a lieutenant on the line! (Anything to suggest it isn't suddenly just the two of them. Is Soap even okay, silent down the hall?)

Following that train of thought, Yves takes two steps back to look out the doorway.

Soap stares back at him, looking just as baffled. Just as grim.

"The fuck was that?" (Yves doesn't think he's ever been so relieved to hear Ghost in his life.) "All stations, report."

"Bravo Seven-One, copy."

"Bravo Two-Six, copy."

"Delta Three-Four, copy."

And.

That's where Duke is supposed to chime in. And the captain. But there's nothing. Not even the suggestion of an attempt with a weak signal.

Yves strains to listen for the telltale pops of gunfire. Anything to suggest more to the silence, than just... They still have no clue what that had been.

"Delta-Four, Bravo-Six, how copy?"

"Dinnae ken what that looked like to you, LT, but sounded like an explosion from here," Soap says, surround-sound between his voice in the comms and physically just down the hall.

"No signs of structural damage from out here."

Fuck.

"Bravo-Six, Delta-Four, how copy?"

The agitation is fucking palpable.

"Price. Duke. How copy."

Yves glances between his fellow sergeants. "They went upstairs." Meet in the middle, had been the suggestion.

"Price would want us to stick to the mission." Gaz doesn't look particularly pleased with the admission, even as the words leave his mouth. "We should keep looking."

"Delta Zero-Four, Bravo Zero-Six, how copy?"

Static burst down the line.

"Delta-Four, copy." Worse for wear, from the sounds of it, but alive, thank Christ. "Hold for Bravo-Six."

They allowed themselves a singular moment, the three of them, before they scurry back to the hunt. And if Yves is a little slower picking through things, keeping his eyes peeled for things that could go boom? Well, it's just smart, after that scare.

"Partial ceiling collapse," comes Duke's voice again. "They knew we were coming. Keep it tight, prepare for retaliation. Someone had to have heard that."

Still nothing from Price.

"The captain?"

"Still lookin', Soap."

Fucking grim.

Most of what Yves is looking at is nonsense. Numbers and snatches of what looked like Belarusian, except the grammar makes no sense. (And yeah, maybe Yves has been scrambling at books for the past few weeks trying to get up to muster on a new Slavic language, but he doesn't think his grasp is that poor.)

Periodically, the line hisses with another burst of static, or Duke grunts and his radio picks it up. It's more than a little distracting.

"Think it's in code, if any of this shit even means anything," Yves mutters to Gaz. It's impossible for him to tell what might be important, and what is simply garbage.

Gaz whistles sharply and waves him over. "Think I've got something."

"We take everything. Elis can make sense of it all back at the FOB," is Duke's clipped response.

Everything? Fuck. Okay. Yves quickly slinsg his pack off his back and rips it open. "Let's get to it then." Papers in the bags, boys. Anything with markings is swept into a pile. (He's fairly sure he has at least half a dozen blank sheets, too. But whatever, fine, that's an Elis problem, not an Yves problem.)

"Incoming tangos, northern ridge. Wrap it up, sergeants."

It can never be an easy day, can it? He and Gaz share a grimace.

"Delta Four to Watcher-One, how copy?"

"Solid copy, Delta-Four, send traffic."

"Still no eyes on Bravo-Six. Anticipating need for medevac. Requesting permission to escalate to weapons free status."

Medevac.

The line is dead quiet.

Medevac. For their captain.

"Confirmed, weapons free. Good hunting, boys."

"Price-"

From across the room, Gaz stills to hear their lieutenant's call. Clearly not meant for them.

"Lieutenant?" Laswell prompts when Duke does not immediately elaborate. "What's his status?"

The line is still open. If Yves strains, he can just make out what he thinks might be Duke's medical kit.

A muttered curse turns into a string of swears fit to make a sailor blush.

"Lieutenant." The sharpness of Ghost's tone has Yves (and Gaz, he saw it) starting to snap to attention.

"Need that medevac. Urgent."

Urgent is never a good word, especially in these situations. (Yves shoves the last of the papers in with markedly less care than before. A corner rips under the zip of his pack as he yanks it shut.)

"Gaz, Yves, southeast stairwell, third floor, second door on the right." They are, the pair of them, setting out of the room before Duke has even finished the order. "Beginning compressions."

Gaz's gait falters for a step. "Compressions?"

"Little busy, Gaz." The effort of the compressions, or the force of them, or whatever, jars the cadence of Duke's words. "Watcher-"

"I'm here."

"Medevac's gonna need to come to us."

Oh, shit.

They go from jogging the stairs to mounting them two at a time.

"Ghost, coordinate?"

"Rog."

Duke has an open line, still. (And it isn't like he's going to be able to change that now, a little part of Yves's brain supplies. He needs both hands for compressions.) There's no silence anymore because they can all hear the puffs of Duke breathing as he pushes his weight down, and the quiet as he applies rescue breaths.

"Soap, cover that rear entrance. I don't want any surprises."

"Got it, LT."

"Gaz, Yves, you almost there?"

"Top of the stairs now, sir," Gaz reports.

"Watcher, what's the ETA on that medevac?"

"Six and a half minutes out."

Hell of a speedy scramble, if Yves does say so himself. Perks of such a local FOB, maybe.

"Come on, you stubborn motherfucker."

Yves doesn't... Fuck, has he ever heard that tone from his lieutenant before?

They reach the doorway in time to watch Duke let go of Price's limp wrist and start in on the next set of compressions.

"Don't you fucking dare."

There's something almost painful in watching. His lieutenant looks to be throwing most of his body weight into every compression, and their captain doesn't so much as wheeze, and it's so bloody quiet, otherwise.

Uncomfortable heat crawls up the back of his neck. He posts up to guard the door, back to the room's interior, lying to himself that it's just a matter of protecting them, and not avoiding the taut air of their maybe-dead captain and their lieutenant trying to force him back.

"I'm headin' down the hill. We'll hold your position until evac. Gaz, need you to cover me."

"On it."

The pop... pop of Gaz's opening shots mark the beginning of their engagement proper.

Yves listens to Gaz execute shots, and Ghost quietly mark his kills as he circles 'round to meet up with Soap around back, and Duke grunt the rhythm of compressions, and itches to be useful.

He could have cried, seeing Ghost and Soap crest the top of the stairs, and wouldn't have been able to tell you if they would have been tears of relief or frustration.

The automatic rattle of Soap's suppressive fire join the fray. He calls the away of his first frag, and then it's open season.

"It's gonna be tight."

"They're too close now-"

"I know."

Yves sharply yanks his gaze back to the stairwell at the first sign of Ghost pulling at the hem of his balaclava.

"Swap."

"Ghost-"

"It's been minutes, you need to rest. Go again in a few."

Yves almost expects to hear an argument about it. A fight- except there couldn't be one, when at least one of the lieutenants has to be actively beating their captain's heart for him.

A quick glance over his shoulder at the rustle of movement shows Ghost's hands now pressing down on the captain's chest, Duke rocked back on his heels.

"Exfil is three minutes out."

Yves fixes his gaze back on the stairs.

"Copy."

[fullmetalscullyy]

anywhere with you - chapter 22

summary: Two kingdoms came together after a brief, but bloody, war and brokered peace, strengthening the bond between them. The price? One of the kings sending his son as a peace offering. King Berthold was baffled at the prospect and the reason behind Prince Roy’s arrival. It was completely unexpected. However, with another invasion from the north looming on the horizon just beyond their forest borders, he had no choice but to keep Roy by his side. At a loss of where to assign him in his grief, Prince Roy was appointed as Princess Riza Hawkeye’s guard.

-

A Royai fantasy and adventure AU

read on ao3

rated: t

words: 2404

tags: royai, fantasy au, roleswap, kinda, royalty au, adventure, grief, conflict, war, angst, angst with a happy ending, idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, pure self indulgence, character death, death, past abuse

snippet:

“Thank you, Roy.” Her reply was quiet. It was spoken so softly he automatically leaned an ear toward her to hear better.

“You need not thank me, Riza.”

Riza’s “bedroom” – a small, private space closed off by walls of stone in a nook within the keep and concealed by a sheep’s wool blanket hanging from the ceiling – appeared before them. Roy slowed to a stop, no doubt to leave her in peace, but she gently tugged him within to talk.

Once inside, Riza turned and lifted a hand to cup his cheek. Roy’s eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch and turned his face further into her palm.

“I know I do not have to, Roy, but perhaps I want to. You continue to look out for my people, and I am grateful for it.”

He was silent for a beat or two before his eyelids batted open. He pressed a kiss against her palm. “I often think of them as my people too,” he admitted. His cheeks even took on a pinkish hue with his confession. 

read the rest on ao3

[d144-catzie]

Winter Wasteland and Dried Oil

Chapter 1: On The Move

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

clack clack clack clack clack…

“…Not only does it help the unemployed earn money, it also helps the apple industry move surplus products that might never have been bought had it not been that man’s idea” The presenter stopped his explanation to draw multiple pictures on the medium sized blackboard. Multiple apple filled crates, many trees that what may be an orchard to visualize the apple industry, and drawings of people.

clack clack clack…

The presenter added another drawing, on the empty space of the blackboard he drew a smiling man with an apple on one hand and money on the other. “And that’s how apples became a weapon against the great depression, by buying apples from the apple industry at a lower price, then sell them at a profit” He finished.

Putting the chalk on the board frame as he clapped his palms many times to dust off the chalk remains.

The classroom was silent, not that it was never in the first place, but rather it was silent he could feel the odd looks the students were giving him. “Any questions?” His navy blue eyes went to one student to another.

“Actually I do have one, Vityaz” A voice came from the front desk, more precisely from the said male’s side. “I was wondering where you got this information about this great depression…” As she trailed off, he added “actually, there’s more about the history, this is just a snippet of the whole situation” Before letting the teacher continue. “Y-yes and I asked everyone to present it with powerpoint to be more efficient…but why a blacboard exactly?” She chuckled lightly, magenta ovals turning into question marks.

Vityaz cleared his throat and answered “one, from a history book, mainly about the histories on earth but I thought it would be neat if I add some snippets of it to my assignment. Two, I don’t know what should I do with the powerpoint file after this and blackboard is more efficient for me. Done presenting? Just erase it, plus I can use this thing repeatedly” As he erased all of the blackboard’s content. “Thank you, Vityaz. That would be 8 out of 10, you can go back to your seat. Next is Blooky, you can start your presentation” she dismissed the male worker, putting his blackboard at the back corner of the room while he went back to his desk.

For the rest of the class, he listened to none of his classmates’ presentation and only sticks his attention to a piece of paper. ‘Faster recharge’ written near a drawing of his railgun, a circuit diagram he drew long ago, an improvised charging plug with a switch embedded to it, and a map he’s currently drawing while also looking around his classroom.

As he kept doing his own working, next thing the male worker drone knew he was sticking his head into the vents.

“What…are you doing?”

BANG!

Just a simple question was enough to make him bump his head with the vent ceiling, it wasn’t expected either, out of all people.

“D-DAD?!” he scrambled out of the vent to see the man giving him a questioning look. Shoving the paper in his bag that he later carry it on his back. “I…am…” Vityaz looked at the man’s forest green eyes that’s filled with curiosity, to the vent and its grate lying on the floor, then back at his father.

His own navy blue circles became wide Os before, “Iamjustlookingattheventsjustincaseit’ssafefromthemurderdronesbecauserobogodknowswhenwilltheystartusingtheiroh-so-advancedbraintobustinusingtheventswhentheyrealisetheycannotusethemainentrance…andIwanttohelpincreasethesecuritybecauseIfitintheWDF” He sputtered all of those words.

The other just stared at him, bewildered, either from the gibberish rushing out from his son’s mouth or his sudden odd behaviour because his nerveous behaviour is definitely out of character. “I’ll see myself out, be in my room, adios” the turquoise haired boy rushed away, leaving the baffled man in the empty hall, wide eyed before taking a small paper from his pocket and left to another direction.

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

A video played and rewinded multiple times, the same pattern of gunshots amd grunts, the same environment and buildings on scene.

The viewer rewinded the video once again, paying close attention towards the bullet that shattered one of the yellow bulbs on the wavy haired murder drone.

There’s a Worker Drone with her dual guns ready to shoot, and the other one behind her injured. Leia, if the viewer recalled, began to shoot the bullets she began to familiarize with at this point. The bullets that managed to made their way towards the yellow bulbs.

The hunter grunted as it halted on its tracks while Leia kept shooting, what made her interested was the constant glitching the murder drone experience on its visor, or so it seems…with the constant whining coming from it and its awful aim when it protracted its claws.

“Aaah…aaaHA!” She paused the video before heading out from the dormitories and enters the main hall. Which is basically just an old unfinished house. The young drone knocked on the door before entering with small bounces in every step she made.

Everyone in the meeting, including her father, went silent at the young drone’s arrival. “Do you have anything to inform us, Sako?” Said girl just grinned in response, and without another word she brought the laptop she’s been carrying in the middle, plugs in the USB drive, connects the laptop to the projector, turns on the projector, and plays the scene she’s been replaying since morning.

Leia shooting with her guns, the bullets made their way towards the yellow bulbs, the murder drones grunted and whined and aimlessly tried to swipe the worker’s head off with the claw. Finally she paused the all too familiar scene and turned to see everyone in the room, as she expected, whispering to each other.

“So I was proposing on surprise attack when they’re in blind state” Another processing image on her visor, but no lightbulb this time, as the image was uickly replaced with her orange eyes. The other drones whispered amongst themselves, she fiddled with her coat, she caught her father staring at the ceiling, then Arisaka’s clapping instantly silence the whole room. “I’ll be discussing this with everyone here, thank you for the discovery. And do you mind coming back here tomorrow, same time as now” The girl shook her head in a blink, “good. Thanks again, kid. You go get some rest”

With a cat-like grin “just doing my job as the lookout of Ace” Terra turned off the projector and started to carry her laptop again, and went out of the meeting room. Doors closed and everyone in the room went back to discussing the strategy, added with Sako’s discovery about their hunters.

Back in her dorm room, she laid face first on the mattress then glanced on her side, ‘oh yeah, the new datas’

Flipping open the book and finally arriving at the page full of sketches, of their hunters, murder drones. All informations collected by the lookout herself, clicking her pen and drawing arrows towards the bulbs on their heads ‘weak spots, possible eyes?’ written on it. Sako swung he legs back and forth “maybe I’ll add more details on the girl one” she considered not a minute before the door slammed open.

“Yo, Sako” Greeted the drone wearing a black flap cap at the door, one hand on the door frame and the other in their coat. “Could you go to the warehouse?” Turquoise met red, and the book shut close as she’s now on her feet, “what is it, Archy?” She could see their red eyes lighten, “I’m bored”

______________________________________________________________________________________________

“I wonder what kind of shenanigans your family were up to now” Spoke the braided one at a dead drone posing, like a mannequin, “do hoping that they’re cooking up something good” His fingers trailed on the beat up gun on her hand before sighing, spotting a speck of dust on it and wiping it off. The needle on his tail screeched lightly at the contact with the floor, he brought it up and there they are, dust. “Tch…it’s not even two days…” Grumbling, he glanced at the newest addition in the basement, the dual gun wielder posing with her weapons, G finally left the basement.

Now exiting the house he eyed the spire far from where he stands, in a distance he saw two metal flying straight at him, two yellow ‘><’s coming at full speed. Poker faced when the one with wavier hair came closer and closer, and he’s now up high with wings wide “I win!” The girl cheered then next came a disgruntled groan from the red scarfed drone who crash landed into the pile of snow.

“Always the fast one” G grinned at S hanging onto his tail midair and K tapping his foot and with crossed after. The female disassembly drone jumped down from grabbing the leader’s tail and he followed her to the ground, “what’s the occasion this time?” K’s quick to answer “S did some lil’ patrolling around the surrounding areas”

“For some more little toasters to catch, we did prey quite a lot yesterday” She spoke up while rubbing off the snows on her companion’s sleeveless jacket, their leader looked at S in silence and coughed “I mean yeah, yesterday I was a bit of a brute-”

“Not bit, you were a madlad!” K interjected, who got a scowl from G in return. “The point is, I’m not thinking straight. And now, I’m considering…perhaps delay our hunt? Gah, how much worker drones you manage to find out there, S?” Said drone whirred as an image of loading screen appeared on her visor before numbers displayed on her visor, not a lot.

The number on G’s visor shattered as his face scrunched “eugh, I said that? I shouldn’t have thought much about it” He grumbled the last part, lucky for him none of the two heard him. “But we’re still going hunting on our own and fetch fierce drones, right?” S asked him and he nodded, and then G snapped his fingers with now a checkmark on his visor. “You three, listen up!” In an instant the two slammed their foot on the ground.

“Yesterday we did a magnificent job with our game. Quantity increase roughly around 70%. But…” There’s a pause between them all, K and S waiting for what G has to say, “the gap for the game will be further compared to now. If we’re expecting bigger quantity each game, it is highly suggested to stay thrift with the quantity of Workers outside if you wish to maintain this habit. And if…we ran out of addition for our game” The leader has his eyes on his subordinates “we can just do some outing, go far from here”

The two stand straight and hands made their salutations’ noticed “understood” they firmly rensponded. G snapped his fingers as the duo nodded then their hands back on their sides.

“Whew…one steam blown off. Come on, K and S, let’s get more of those small toasters” He giggled, eyes turned into a big yellow ><, fangs revealed themselves, and wings spread wide before he launched himself into the sky. And of course, with a twirl before his figure faded in the constant snowfall.

Seeing him, the female prepared her stance but not launching herself up yet seeing her scarfed teammate only standing straight, she went back to her stance “not coming?” K just shrugged in response. “Wanna let G blow out some of his steams?” She added as the male just nodded at her, “heh, he’s still cuckoo, and I’m still full from yesterday” He replied. “Welp, you do you, fine by me. Don’t get mad if you didn’t get any~” S backflipped upwards before protracting her wings with eyes similar to G’s, a big yellow ><, hunting mode on and with tremendous speed she zooms away in the snowfall.

K just stood there in silence.

…

It’s almost half an hour and he’s still there, “why did I chose to stay again?” Finally a word from the Disassembly Drone as his tail swung back and forth. And with a sigh, he turned to the house he and his teammates reside, an old mansion obviously, with snow and icicles decorating every corner, the beige is now bleached and deathly pale, there’s a balcony each of them like to use for their own amusements, and of course broken windows. “Maybe I should try something” He said before taking a step towards the building.

But soft scrunches changed his mind, in the distance he saw two worker drones running in the middle of the dead city, K decided to follow them.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

“Excuse me?” Digital question marks filled the visor.

The other worker drone leaned back with a looooong sigh…“it’s like paintball, Sako! Bullets hit them, bullets shatter, and nanites come out, nanites melt their skin. Easy” They then slammed their palm on the whiteboard and stares expectantly at the lookout. She facepalmed, “have you ever tought about how will you contain them? Do we even have something strong enough to hold the nanites!?” Exasperation visible on Sako’s face before she continued, “and do you have any idea how many limb transplants you have!?”

“This…!”And then her palms showed the sketch of a weapon, drawn by the mechanic, stumbling her own words “is too risky! This. Is. A. Double. Edged. Knife” She put emphasis on every time her index finger pointed closer to the sketch, a hard frown on her face.

“Risk is inevitable, and consequences must be faced if you know what you’re doing” In all truth, Sako has known Archy for as long as she remembers being alive.

Archy, the mechanic and weapon expert of the colony and resistance, Josef is no fool when it comes to choosing their weaponist, but there are times where Sako needs to bring her friend back to the ground before any screw loose they made backfires.

Weapons that can shoot bullets infused by Nanites. A double-edged knife just like she emphasised, this crazy idea could up their game, but the risk of the weapon backfires and harm the colony overweights the pro. She wouldn’t want to to give their hunters some sort of an advantag-

“Yeah, listen to her, smarty-pants”

B A N G !

No hesitation, and their finger still on the trigger. The murder drone’s back arched backwards and its face facing the room corner behind it before slowly straightening its posture to face them.

The bullet perfectly caught between its teeth, before it spat it onto the floor. “Nice shot, would be a shame if it’s wasted with the shooter commiting self-die tho” Archy didn’t budge, they still had the muzzle facing their red-sacrfed hunter. It chuckled as its digital >< reverted back to two yellow ovals, “I don’t like easy games” The murder drone slowly lowered the gun still pointing at it.

B A N G !

“Get out of my place” The bullet only grazed its shin as the drone just hissed lightly, and with a scowl it spoke “fine…” It simply walked out. The swaying, bright nanites on its tail, was the last thing the worker drones saw before their hunter vanished completely out of the place, and slowly fading in the snowstorm.

Silence engulfed the room until it was broken with the handgun being placed on the working table, Archy then turned to their friend “so…” They started as their red digital eyes stared expectantly at their friend.

Sako, still having a firm grip with her opinion, “those things can heal. We can’t. if you want this weapon you’re working on to work, you better find a way to contain it, or else we’re just wholeheartedly serving ourselves to them” She answered back.

“What if I do?” They leaned close.

“What if you don”t?” She shot back.

“What if I told you I already found it?” She was taken aback by that response.

For years they grew up together, they always caught her off guard. “I need their tail” They simply stated, Sako held back a sigh as her fingers pinched her forehead, “sure you know what you’re doing?” Her question made them scoff.

“You know the gist, Sako. There will be time where those devils eat their own medicine, I help with making the weapons for that day. No matter how long it takes to collect them, once it’s finished we can play safe as much as we want” The flap-capped drone sneered, two wide red Os on their black screen. Sako took it into consideration, before finally giving in, “aight! You do you, but…” The mechanic’s face dropped at her trailing off, “you discuss this with Arisaka” She finally pointed outside with her thumb. Red digital eyebrows just rose up, blinking for a few seconds “fine by me”

And then they left the warehouse.

[dr-gimmesome]

This was almost a year ago now that i was browsing my local thrift when i found a detached, water damaged exit sign a top of the shelfs.

It felt like striking gold; the idea of someone donating it and the thift store accepting it, pricing it, and putting it on the shelves was so utterly ridiculous that i had to show my friends.

Needless to say, i left the thrift with the exit sign in my arms and my wallet a small bit lighter.

I thought about the ways i could try to string it up in my room, as it wasn't really damaged despite the water and sun exposure. There was no way for me to make it functional, but that didn't matter to me, i had an exit sign in my hands.

The sign was a bit worn, the letters fading into a lighter red as the pain on them cracked. Yellow staining the once white sign with waves of discloration. A bit of rust biting at the sign at the bolts that held her together. But none of that really mattered, if anything, it told a story of where she'd been and how she eventually got here, with me.

As i do with any item i get from the thrift, when i get home, i immediately clean her. This sign was one of the ones that would hang from the ceiling instead of being attached to a wall, so she had this metal casing that the sign was inbedded into.

I took time unscrewing the miniscule amount of screws as if I would damage her further if i was too careless.

I spent hours hunched over this device, pulling out her water sensitive internals (which surprisingly only comprused of some wires and a long lightbulb) to scrub off the grime and dirt that had stuck to her surface for who knows how long. I was so involved in the excitement of taking her apart that i hadn't cared to put on a podcast or music, the only sound filling the bathroom being the fan and the scrubbing of plastic and metal. I remember i paused a few times just to admire the simplicity of it. Eventually, it was time to put her back together again, so i had, leaving out the internals as i still thought to use her as decor.

I remember just...feeling the exhaustion in my muscles. I sat and dried her off the best i could in my bed and didnt care to move her as i fell asleep. It felt nice, but it still baffled me how i felt so content about the sign. There still many words ive left out as i still really dont understand my own experience. I think there's something about the idea of taking this thing that now serves no purpose, caring for it, cleaning up to be admired, while acknowledging its history.

Does anyone else have a story like this?

For reference, she kind of looks like this, but she isn't an LED one, and the metal bracket thing is larger. Maybes I'll share a pic of her later *3*

[jullisonpostsled-blog]

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[iloveabunchofgames]

#JakeReviewsItch

And Yet It Moves

by Broken Rules

Price (US): $9.99

Included In: Bundle for Racial Equality and Justice, Bundle of Ukraine

Genre: Platformer

Pitch: Rotate the world in 90° increments, shifting gravity to navigate tight, treacherous paths. A 2D puzzle-platformer.

My expectations: I played the demo for And Yet It Moves in 2009. There was a lot of buzz around it, which baffled me. Fourteen years is a long time, though. Maybe I'm ready to appreciate the brilliance now. I wasn't aware this was a Broken Rules joint. I sort of liked Chasing Aurora. I was far less keen on Old Man's Journey, but it had its moments. There's talent within this team. I want to be a fan.

Review:

I fall.

The ground rushes toward my feet, but it won’t be the ground for much longer. I swing the world clockwise. I whip past other surfaces, walls becoming ceilings whenever I please, gaining momentum all the while. I’m going faster miles an hour, and it feels amazing.

Fast, joyful movement is possible in And Yet It Moves, and it is met with stern punishment. The protagonist is not a capable Super Mario-type, but a lanky, bumbling slowpoke who shatters upon landing anything except the shortest, gentlest hop—and since twisting gravity is this game’s defining features, look forward to a whole lotta tedious, cautious dropping.

Surfaces are rarely level, so whether or not a landing will count is determined by a sketchy, overactive physics model. At the end of a tricky section, I never think, “I’m so smart!” or “I did that so skillfully!” It’s always, “Huh. Got lucky that time,” and “Glad I don’t have to do that again.”

Occasionally. the player character can hang out in a safe spot while turning the world to move objects or animals, and most of those puzzles work. The game’s full of winning ideas; they’re just hampered by a loser character.

+ Flipping gravity to solve a physics puzzle is satisfying when it works. + Some nice visuals late in the game. + Frequent checkpoints. Unlimited lives. + There's no consistent definition of up an down. You might expect to get lost easily in a game like this, but the level design does a good job of keeping players on the right track.

– This character. It's like they're running along the bottom of the ocean, weighed down by cement shoes, and honestly? Deserved. There is a reason tall and thin aren't adjectives you can use for most beloved platform game heroes. – The physics. – The uneven, unpredictable surfaces, especially in concert with the physics and the character's cumbersome shape. – I had a much better once I muted the pink...plink...plink-plink-incoming-Skype-call soundtrack and turned on real music. (And now you know how that Modern Lovers link crept into this review.)

🧡🧡🤍🤍🤍 Bottom Line: Full of promise; overflowing with frustration. Irritating, unpredictable controls can be the death of a platformer or a physics puzzler. And Yet It Moves is both. It's certainly possible to get through it, and speedrunners might get a kick out of mastering its quirks, but reaching the end isn't isn't very satisfying when it feels like each accomplishment has more to do with luck than skill.

#JakeReviewsItch is a series of daily game reviews. You can learn more here. You can also browse past reviews...

• By name • By rating • By genre

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[chocoenvy]

Imagine this, our wealthy girls reacting to their darling, be it SAGAU or not, being incredibly poor and living in a crumbling ruin of a house. The ceiling is falling down in one part, the walls have mold visible on them, and the furniture is broken or falling apart. While they're gaping in horror at what their darling has been living in, said darling is proudly showing off their jury rigged improvements, like a rainwater collector and improvised heating system.

i love this idea sm thamk you for the food <3

okay but consider, Darling who has arrived to Teyvat and now lives in luxury but still has habits from their old world from being poor.

warning: mentions of unhealthy eating habits

Such as hoarding food, binge eating out of fear of not getting enough. Hiding food in your room and such. Saving every mora you get, you're just afraid that one day you'll have nothing.

Not asking for anything, conserving food. Insisting that if you don't finish something it should be saved for later or someone else should eat it.

Food aggression go brrrr, you get lowkey territorial over your food. Not like anyone would steal it but you have the habit of eating your food quickly, snatching up anything that you can and keeping it for yourself. Idk maybe like not taking breaths between eating, eating quickly to the point you have to pause to breathe (not sure if this is a poor thing or a disordered eating thing skfjskfjddkdrjd)

also like- there's a lot of people in your abode. From servants to acolytes and such. And idk if anybody relates but when you have siblings, if you don't take the food you want you're not gonna eat. Especially when money's tight. If you don't eat the food before someone else does, you're not gonna get it until the next time the parents go shopping. And who knows when that'll be.

Anywas enough about food-

Reader who doesn't ask for anything at all.

Reader, the god of teyvat, walking around with fucking Childe and Ningguang, picked up an item of little importance that they found neat. Reader was asked if they wanted it and their first thought was

"Hmm, how much is it?"

BABE you're with THE TIANGQUAN OF LIYUE and ONE OF THE FUCKING HARBINGERS :D?? THEY HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO PAY FOR IT I ASSURE YOU.

no bc they'd voice this, saying the price didn't matter and you'd just

".o. ... wait im not paying?"

LASKDFJASLDFKJSAD THEY'D BE SO BAFFLED LIKE WHAT?? MISTER MA'AM? YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU'D BE TRAVELING WITH THEM TWO AND YOU'D HAVE TO PAY???

Ningguang would sign you up for rich kid lessons to teach you how to not be a plebian/hj

Your mindset is so different from the one they assumed you'd have and it gives anyone near you immediate whiplash when you're checking the cabinets to see how much food you have. Even though you have an absurd surplus of food, you're still cautious. Even though anything you want you'll get, you still check prices and stockpile cash because you're so paranoid that one day everything will come crashing down and you'll be left with nothing. You're insistent on this notion and won't let up on it, no matter how much your acolytes try to convince you that you'll never have to worry about anything again.

[we-dekormimar-me]

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Baffle ceiling m2 prices The boards on both sides are covered with cardboard and the middle part is called drywall. These plates can be produced in standard sizes and specially prepared sizes. Drywall applications are generally used in exterior structures. It can also be used inside finished buildings and applied for coating purposes. Drywall ceiling, on the other hand, is a system that enables…

[helliontherapscallion]

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it. 

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends. 

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart. 

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years. 

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same. 

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin. 

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence. 

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony. 

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed. 

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living. 

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again. 

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it. 

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that. 

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again. 

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him. 

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears. 

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book. 

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails." 

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down. 

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed. 

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly. 

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here." 

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying." 

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred. 

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks. 

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury. 

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move. 

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting." 

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top. 

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks. 

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few. 

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so. 

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief. 

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading. 

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks. 

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive. 

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks. 

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?" 

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void. 

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this." 

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you." 

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace. 

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you. 

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing. 

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him." 

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen. 

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void. 

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying. 

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors. 

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible? 

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless. 

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air. 

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?" 

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?" 

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?" 

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance. 

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me." 

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded. 

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just- 

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss. 

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto- 

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve. 

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition. 

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice. 

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years. 

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.” 

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.” 

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.” 

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur. 

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay. 

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost. 

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears. 

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement. 

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!” 

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands. 

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.” 

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person. 

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right? 

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy. 

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes. 

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot. 

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust. 

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy. 

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin. 

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction. 

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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[red1culous]

Oh part 1

Part 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7

Standing in front of that imposing building you felt your resolve falter slightly. It looked as though nothing had changed in years. Even the grove of trees that lined the driveway, tall and graceful, seemed to be frozen in time.

One foot in front of the other, you coax yourself. 

You suck in a laboured breath and walk into the large courtyard stopping once again as you take in your surroundings. You had hoped to be able to come and go without notice but the gravel covering the courtyard was doing a great job in announcing your arrival. 

This is new, you think to yourself slightly amused at your naivety thinking things would have stood still just because you left.

You hadn’t been back in over a decade after that little incident and if anyone had told you you would be standing where you were right now, you would have laughed in their faces before smacking them across it. 

You walk through a smaller sylvan courtyard of blooming orange trees. In its centre you see a fish pond. Smiling you look into it and search for the red and gold koi you had put there when you built the pond as a birthday present for Tony. It swims up to the surface as if it recognises you and if it weren’t for the boxes you were lugging about you might have even bent down to poke at its mouth.

For a split second you consider turning around and walking, no, running away. Screw the freshly baked muffins that were precariously balanced on you. You could just head back to the shop and sell them off at half price. You didn’t need the huge commission that the Avengers had agreed to pay for them. No you definitely didn’t need it…

…you also definitely did not need your business partner chewing off your ear about passing off said commission. 

Think of all the rich people eating your food? you can hear her clawing voice bounce about in your head. 

In truth you knew that the Avengers could easily afford a better baker. The best pastry chefs this side of the globe would happily saw off their left foot to be able to cater for them. But Pepper rings your mobile phone, claiming she meant to actually dial the shop, to place an order…a significantly large one…one she knew you would not be able to resist.

“Shit…” you mumble under your breath seeing the cause of your stress marching towards you a huge smile on her face.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Pepper says holding onto your upper arms and leaning in to place air kisses on your cheeks.

“No of course not…it’s just…umm…” you stutter as your heart thumps so hard it rattles its ribcage.

“I know…it’s a little weird being back” she says hands still holding you in place as if she knew you were about to bolt right out of there.

You shrug chuckling a little. “It’s stupid isn’t it?” you adopt a wide smile which had always been effective when dealing with difficult customers.

“Don’t give me that look” she swipes at your chin, “and it’s not stupid either. Just so you know, we’re all on your side.” She adds giving you a sympathetic look and you calm slightly at her words. 

“Thanks Pep.”

“Ok you head in. I’ll meet you inside in a bit, you don’t mind do you? Tony ordered a grand piano and it’s just arrived…” she trails off.

“Sure, I know my way around” you say smiling as she squeezes your arms before letting you go. Of course you knew your way around. After all, this had been your home too for over 5 years. 

5 years of bliss with her. 

You mentally chide yourself. Nope, not gonna go back there. 

As you climb the white marbled steps that led to the main door of the mansion you steal a glance at the silent looming windows glinting in the early morning light. You hesitate a little seeing a shadow pass quickly across one of them. 

Shit. 

Shaking your head, yet again, you finally reach the large oak doors. The bright and zesty scent of your lemon muffins waft into the air and as you are about to ring the doorbell the solid doors open revealing a tanned and muscled man in a shirt way too small for his body.

“STEVEN!” you shout whisper as his face splits into a wide grin.

“Y/N! Wh-what are you doing here?” he almost engulfs you in a hug stopping at the very last moment realising your arms were occupied.

“I-I…umm, muffins?” you return his grin looking down at your packages.

His eyes widen a little before taking some of the boxes from you. He balances 3 with ease in one hand as he pulls you inside. “No I mean I knew we had ordered from you…,” he says walking with you towards the kitchen, “…but I thought you said you were going to send a runner or something.”

“Well I was but our regular guy called in sick” you say gently placing the boxes onto the kitchen island.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate” he eyes you winking when you catch his gaze.

You roll your eyes at him. “No Steve, it’s the very opposite of what you mean.”

“Oh come on Y/N,” he shuffles up beside you to bump your shoulder, “it’s been so long.”

“It has...but hey! I get to see you again!” you bump his shoulder back and he pretends like it hurts him. “Ok so these need to be consumed within 3 days…”

“Woah woah woah now…” he cuts you off, “…you’re talking like you’re about to leave.”

He gives you a sad pouting face. His crisply parted hair makes him look like a choirboy albeit a very well built one. You almost feel sorry for him. 

“Steve you know I don’t belong here” you say fingering the hem of your shirt.

Your answer seems to baffle him. He straightens up and stares at you for a moment narrowing his eyes slightly. “I’m skipping my morning run just to hang out with you, so you can at least spend some time with me.”

“Steve…” you protest before he cuts you off again.

He raises a hand in your face. “Not hearing any of it” he says grabbing yours and leading you out of the kitchen, “…we’re going to take a walk and you’re going to meet some of your family.” 

You knew there was no use arguing with him. The death grip he had on you meant that you couldn’t even try to make a dash for it. “Steve if she…” you add and he cuts you off. Third one in a row. This was getting ridiculous.

“Shh!” and that was final. He leads you into the giant library where that vapid painting by Albert Ryder still hung on the wall. You hated that massive eye sore and always wandered what Tony liked about it. You’d always pegged him for the colourful extravagant type and this painting was just so out of character.

“Sam! Look who’s here?” Steve’s voice bellows out interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes trail up the curving mahogany spiral stairs that Steve is looking at and onto another floor of bookcases that were bathed in sunlight pouring in through a round skylight on the ceiling. 

“OMG Y/N?!” Sam almost shrieks as he bounds down the steps at a dangerous pace to collect you in a massive bear hug. “What are you doing here?!” he adds still crushing you in his arms.

“I came with the cupcakes…” you giggle as he picks you up and twirls you around. “Th-They brought me as their plus one.”

He puts you down to really look at you as if committing you to memory. A large smile sits on his face. “I see the sass is still there?”

“It never really left, big guy” you raise an eyebrow smirking as he hugs you one more time. 

“Pleaseee tell me you’re here for the party?” he groans wrapping an arm around your shoulders looking at you hopefully. “Parties here have been so sad since you’ve been gone.”

You hum about to answer as out of nowhere two slender arms wrap around you. It knocks the wind out of you and you instinctively hug back letting the smell of cinnamon and spice invade your senses. “Wanda!” you yelp.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming” she squeals smacking you across the arm.

You giggle at her pout. “I didn’t know I was coming, malyshka.”

She grins at your use of the word. “Ok let’s go” she says to a chorus of groans. 

“Excuse me! You are not taking her any where!” Sam blurts out grabbing your free hand.

“Sorry guys but I found her first” Steve adds standing in front of you and placing an authoritative hand on your shoulder his fingernails biting into the flesh there. 

“Guys…” you cough nervously, “how about we take a walk…together” you say quietly and sigh in relief as everyone starts smiling and pestering you with questions again. 

I guess nothing’s really changed after all.

---

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