#head canons with admin yellow

[cinnes-corner]

Welcome! Please, feel free to make your way to the ticket counter ☆

Cinne is my ( @peepsnsneeps ) Enasona and I have decided to unleash her onto the world for you to torment or be tormented by ☆

Pink text = Adaptable (Purple) side

Orange text = Paranoid (Yellow) side

Regular text = Admin

Please be sure to...

-Keep in mind Cinne is a fictional character and anything and everything she says does not reflect what I (peeps) feel towards you or others and does not count as a true opinion towards you or others.

-Keep it SFW. I am an adult, yes, but there are minors on the app and I do not wish to expose them to such content. Suggestive is ok in moderation.

-My responses WILL change depending on my current mental state so please keep that in mind if they grow bland or too odd at some points. I will take breaks on days where I am unable to sort my head out tho.

I'm down with her being flirted w and stuff, she might flirt back, but at this time this blog is dedicated strictly to Cinne's current lore and will also assist in developing said lore. Headcanons are fun and welcome and may become canon if they fit w her stuff ☆

That's all I think, I will update this if need be.

[vannistilldraws]

Since Murder Drones is ending and I've decided to live my "I am cringe but I am free" life, here is my old OC who no longer fits into the canon and I don't feel like making her.

I'll decide after Ep 8 if I wanna include her in some kind of AU or something.

She was created before Episode 7:

Serial Designation S or Sybil is a worker done turned Disassembly Drone from Moon Prime (Earth's Moon). Moon Prime used to be where Disassembly Drones would repurpose Worker Drones and ship them out to other planet systems. She was taken off Moon Prime in late 2990 and moved to the Copper System 20 years before the present day. Uzi, N and "Tessa" find her in the depts of the facility where she's been since Nori and the sentinels slaughtered all the workers. Like Alice and Beau, she harvested parts from the Worker and Disassembly Drones to stay alive. On Moon Prime, Sybil worked as an actual disassembly bot going through the parts of broken bots. Not all the bots were percise and the AS program soon started to take hold. Each and every bot was moved around through the system until Moon Prime was “shut down”. Sybil was able to upgrade herself using whatever parts were left out. She doesn't believe Tessa or N about the Earth being destroyed or Moon Prime being shut down. She's aware it's been over 300 years since she was made but is adamant that Earth and Moon Prime are fine and Tessa is lying. She has to be because her helmet is one way and none of them would be able to read her through their scanners. She also has the AS program, her's is blue, but chooses not to use her powers unless needed to like fighting off Doll or the Sentinels. She said she feels a part of her being chipped away and hasn't used the AS since she before she came to Copper over 200 years ago. This is why most of her wiring is sticking out of her head and has not been repaired. She refers to Murder Drones as “yellow eyes” or “2.0's” since she still considerings her line to be the original Disassembly Drones and the others to just be “babies” modified from their code. Through her own modifications she can see their original creator is written as Tessa and AS admin is Uzi. She eats the oil found on the top floors, that drips down to the bottom. She looks like a worker drone but has the height and wings of a Disassembly drone. She is covered in blue lights. She urges to leave with the group to not have to continue to fight off Alice, Doll or the Sentinels.

[redjademilktea]

Hello hello! This idea for an Imodna fic has been sitting in my head for *ages* now. I'm gonna be working on this first chapter later tonight, but I'm just kind of excited to share before I polish this thing up and post Chapter 1 to AO3!! It's a modern AU, set in Exandria. Imogen is a Ph.D. in Sociology at Dayal Hall University in Jrusar. And Laudna... well, let's just say this is an exes-to-lovers type of deal. Recent canon angst compels me I suppose. Anyway, please enjoy the snippet!

----

Imogen pinched the bridge of her nose between her eyes. She’d been staring at this damn screen all day and it was starting to strain her vision. Normally, she’d be arms deep in grading assignments, wrapping up last minute lecture notes, finishing up office hours, literally anything else other than staring at her now empty email inbox. An impressive feat no doubt, Imogen idly noted. She can’t remember the last time it had even stayed this clear. A testament to her sheer boredom in the moment.

When she glanced back again and her still empty inbox, she thudded her head against her desk. The confirmation email should have been sent hours ago. She should be already back in her apartment, well into packing for her research trip to the Heartmoor by now. But instead she remained stuck in her office at Dayal Hall University. Patiently – very patiently – awaiting the confirmation email from the assistant archivist from the Heartmoor Hamlet Folklore, Oddities, and Curiosities Museum to finally confirm her appointment time so she could forward it to her chair the Sociology department admin staff to confirm the start of her sabbatical.

She let out a pained groan as the page she had refreshed for the twentieth time in five minutes remained unchanged. Defeated, she glanced around her office, tapping a pen to her desk as she did so. In the left side of the office, the low coffee table surrounded by assorted seating and a lone bean bag laid undisturbed in the corner. The bright yellow rug and strategically placed lighting provided a warmth to help combat the harsh fluorescent lights above. While normally reserved for students during her office hours, her pending sabbatical rendered them empty for the time being.

Huffing out a sigh, her gaze shifted to the right side of her office. Large bookshelves filled with monographs across disciplines lined the shelves, though most of the titles remained firmly within the realm of sociology. Imogen passively noted the growing number of office plants that seemed to be appearing without her knowledge. At least one or two had made their way from the tops to the actual shelves themselves, obfuscating the books behind them as their sprawling leaves spilled over their potted houses.

On top of one of the lower bookshelves sat a framed diploma, reading:

Starpoint Conservatory

Department of Sociology confers onto

Imogen Temult

The degree of Doctorate in Philosophy

Below the ornate frame next to yet another potted plant Imogen did not remember acquiring sat several framed photos. While the majority of them were from her time at Dayal Hall – a mix of faculty photos, candid shots of university sponsored outings, and conference shots – one in particular pulled her drifting thoughts.

In the photo, a recently graduated Imogen stood, awkward smile and stiff posture unaided by the weight of various leis and her doctoral regalia, next to a woman with braided hair flowing over the shoulder of her tan blazer. The woman bore a striking resemblance to Imogen, but tired, sunken eyes belied her wary demeanor. It was the first time she’d seen her mother in over a decade. And it was the last time she’d seen her since.

Imogen wondered, then, what her mother – the renowned anthropologist Dr. Liliana Temult from the Aydinlan Seminary in Yios – thought of her career. Her mother’s focus on her career and work had driven a wedge in her family relationship to be sure. It was part of the reason Imogen chose a smaller university to establish her academic career in the first place. One of the only things her mother had ever really said to her on the rare occasion they spoke over the phone was to stay away from the academy and the rigor of it all. Ruefully, she was reminded of the sorry state of their relationship now, all communication conducted over formal channels, sent from Liliana’s university email.

Next to the frame sat a small, stuffed white horse. Imogen’s melted into a short-lived fondness over the plush before the edges of a well-trodden sadness began to seep in. She told herself she kept the plush to make her office feel more welcoming and homely. That her students could feel more at ease knowing she wasn’t just some hardass professor and that they could trust her.

But the unspoken truth remained. The horse – Flora, after her childhood horse in Gelvaan – remained there because of what it reminded her of. Of who it reminded her of. Being gifted the small plush was, of course, the last time she ever saw L-

A knock at the door shook her from her spiraling thoughts. Imogen shook her head slightly, as if to clear the lingering fraught emotions from her mind.

Imogen cleared her throat, “Door’s unlocked.”

At that, the door opened, the familiar gentle and deliberate turn of the handle bringing a small smile to her face. The door further opened as Orym made his way into her office. In his hand, a stack of books reaching well past his head was delicately balanced as he gracefully moved towards her desk.

“Got the books you wanted,” Orym said, placing the stack down with surprising ease.

“You didn’t have to bring ‘em all at once,” Imogen said, smirking

“I know. But I didn’t know how much longer you’d be here.”

“I’ll be here all night if I don’t get this damn confirmation email,” Imogen huffed, slinking down her office chair.

“They still haven’t gotten back to you?” Orym raised an eyebrow.

“No. Been starin’ at my inbox all day waitin’ for it. Thanks for these by the way,” Imogen tilted her head towards the tall stack of texts. She grabbed the book at the top and began thumbing through it. The cover read Home Under the Moonlight: Werewolves and the Queer Imaginary in the Gloomed Jungles.

“Any time,” Orym nodded. “And they probably just need a few hours. Sounds like a small operation.”

“Yeah,” Imogen sighed. “And this small operation is makin’ me regret my career choices with every damn minute they don’t send that confirmation.”

“Ooh I’m hearing something about regretting career choices.” Imogen looked up to watch as Fearne casually strolled into her office, moving around Orym to place the potted plant in her hands onto another shelf. “I hear so many professors say that. I think it must mean I’m pretty good at it since I don’t regret anything.”

“Pretty good at what, Fearne?” Imogen asked flatly, finally understanding the source of the growing garden that was supposed to be her office.

“At professoring,” Fearne wiggled her eyebrows.

Truth be told, Imogen never did figure out what department Fearne worked in, let alone if she was even faculty at all. Imogen had only just recently accepted her position at Dayal Hall when Fearne wandered in on her setting up her new office, vaguely alluding to some “professorly obligation” to introduce herself to “the hot new hire in the Soc department.” Despite the odd introduction, Imogen had been grateful to not have to start out so alone. Not after… everything. And Fearne and her became close quickly. Fearne helped Imogen get acquainted with Orym, the university’s head librarian, and the two have been indispensable to Imogen ever since.

Imogen eyed the new foliage adorning her bookshelf before looking at Orym, who simply shared a slightly bemused look with her. “Fearne, what are you do-,” Imogen started before realizing the futility of the question and changing course. “I’m gonna be on sabbatical, Fearne. I won’t be- I can’t take care of these plants if I’m not here.”

“Oh it’s okay,” Fearne said, reassuringly. “I have a key to your office. Me and Orym can take turns plant sitting while you’re gone.” Fearne produced a key from her pocket, waving it at Imogen before slipping it back.

“How did- Fearne. You can’t have a copy of my office k-”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Geeze louise. Professors share keys all the time. It’s part of the pact.”

Imogen struggled to string together a response before a flash on her computer monitor caught her eye. Hurriedly, Imogen rushed to open the newly received email.

Hello Dr. Temult!

I’m so sorry for the delay! I had a few visitor sentiment surveys that demanded my attention!

Anyway, I am writing to confirm your appointment for next Grisson afternoon at 3 P.M. Look for me at the front desk!

Thank you,

Prism Grimpoppy

Ph.D. Candidate – University of the Heartmoor

Archival Assistant

“Finally,” Imogen muttered under her breath. She forwarded the email before slamming her laptop closed in relief. “Looks like I’m headin’ off,” Imogen said, turning to Orym and Fearne.

“Good luck,” Orym said. And then, carefully, “Just… let us know if you need anything while you’re out there,” Orym added, placing a gentle hand onto Imogen’s shoulder. Imogen winced slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” Imogen said, tensing her jaw. She knew Orym meant well. She knew. Fearne and Orym didn’t know every single detail. But they knew about the last time Imogen had done a big research trip like this. How she had a… tumultuous experience to say the least.

What they didn’t know was the depth and scope of the hurt. What they didn’t know was just how much pain, stress, fear, and loss she had experienced then. How she almost withdrew from the program, taking a leave to go back to Gelvaan for a year to reckon with the extent of her hurt. They didn’t know how much she withdrew into herself, wrestling with the scars left as she trudged her way through writing her dissertation and scraping past the finish line, battered, bruised, degree in hand. They didn’t know that it was when her and Laudna–

“Okay,” Orym said. “But just so you know. We’re here.”

“Thanks,” Imogen responded. A muted, but still fond smile grew on her lips.

“And hey,” Fearne added, “maybe you can take this time to do some personal research if you know what I mean.”

“Fearne,” Imogen rolled her eyes as she packed up her bag.

“What? Archives can be so romantic.”

[saratogaroadwrites]

Tron: Liberation (14/15)

Tron: Liberation | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount: 106,965 characters: Tron, Beck, Mara, Zed, Paige, Pavel, Tesler, Clu 2, Dyson, Yori, Quorra, Original Siren Character relationships: Tron & Beck, Beck & Mara & Zed, Tron/Yori other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Continuation, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

The Game has changed. The Revolution has begun. With Tron healed and once more in the fight for the Grid, the war has begun. But Clu will not give up so easily, and this is a war that will be fought in the streets. But it is a war that Beck and Tron intend to win, so long as they can do one thing first:

Survive.

[AU: Fanmade Season 2]

=

The Capitol was full of soldiers. They streamed out of unmarked buildings, flooding the streets with red-lined forms. The white and blue lined citizens of the city screamed and ran for cover in every direction, ducking into any building that would take them. A tank rumbled down the main road, turret on a swivel as its driver looked for anyone who wasn’t supposed to be out there. It looked up then, seemed to hang for a second, before it opened fire.

Flying alongside her, Quorra shouted as the pair of them had to roll away from the shot. It went close enough that Paige could feel the heat of it along her side and she hissed, pouring as much speed into her green-lined jet as she could give it. It shot forward, out over the city wall, and away from any tank fire. Quorra at her side again she dropped low over the canyon, derezzing her jet and dropping to the ground. Programs shouted, startled as they landed in mirrored crouches among the horde. Quorra was first back to her feet.

“Everyone!” She shouted, voice carrying despite the thunder rumbling above them, “We need to go! Tron and Yori need our help!”

The crowd parted, a half-familiar head of cyan colored hair shoving her way through. Mara popped out of the crowd and stopped at the edge, staring at the two of them standing apart from the rest. She opened her mouth.

“Look!” Someone shouted, drawing everyone’s eyes to the airspace above their head. The Grid seemed to tremble as Paige looked up, nearly falling to her knees at the sight of the yellow-lined Command ship flying into the Capitol’s airspace from the north. She’d seen it in the distance as they escaped the Admin Tower, but hadn’t thought it was that close! She watched, processor stalling and core in her throat, as the large ship docked with the tower, a bright flare of yellow signifying it was taking in power.

Clu had arrived. Paige’s frame trembled; Beck was still back there. She knew that he would never leave Tron to face such a foe alone.

He wasn’t going to come back from this one.

She turned to Mara and Zed just now coming out of the crowd beside her, and they must have seen something on her face because Mara took a step forward and reached out, grabbing Paige’s arms with both hands.

“Where’s Beck?” She asked in a plaintive voice. When Paige couldn’t respond, she squeezed hard with both hands. “Where is he, Paige?”

“He’s back there,” Quorra rasped. Everyone turned to stare at her, but her eyes were on the tower, “With Tron and Yori. Fighting Clu.” She turned to the milling crowd made of Beck’s fellows and a good chunk of Lithium’s Resistance. “We have to go and help them! We have to join the fight!”

Programs turned enough to share looks with one another. Others stared at Quorra, or gave Paige narrow-eyed looks. None of them moved beyond to cross their arms over their chests, hiding the mark of Tron from view. Paige’s core lurched. They weren’t going to—Mara turned on her heel.

“What are you all waiting for?!” She shouted, shrill voice driving into Paige’s audio input, “We have to go now!”

A handful of the former mechanics from Argon stepped forward, but they were the only ones. Paige’s core sank to somewhere near her feet, grinding to a proverbial halt as no one else moved. Mara shook her head slowly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“You have got to be joking,” She said in a breathless whisper before her voice began to gain in volume, “You come all this way and now you won’t fight? What has gotten into you—”

“How do we know they’re telling the truth?” A male-designate broke in suddenly, causing everyone to look at him. His command-yellow assignment markings flared as he gathered his courage and continued, “She’s Occupation, and she—” He gestured at Quorra, “Is an Iso.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Why should we trust them? This could be a trap.”

Quorra took a trembling step back, staring with a partially open mouth and wide eyes. She looked from program to program as if trying to find something, but none would meet her gaze. The male-designate that had spoken seemed to take this as agreement with him. He took a step forward.

“It probably is! You get payback for losing your people,” He pointed at Quorra, then at Paige, “And you’re a double agent working for Clu!” He glared at her, heedless of Mara’s steadily brightening circuits and narrowing eyes, “We can’t trust you!”

"Then trust me," A voice broke in, carrying down the hill. Everyone turned, watching the crowd of Basics part as a single white-suited Siren walked down the hill behind them, staff in hand. Eyes went wide, a murmur starting up as the Siren parted the crowd while she walked towards Mara and Paige, staff tucked under her arm. Mara stared at the Siren, eyes wide. Raindrops caught on the Siren’s dark hair and skin, gleaming in the light of a distant lightning strike. Quorra gasped.

"Ruby!" She shouted, "They told us you were derezzed!"

Ruby smiled a bit. Behind her, a dozen other Sirens appeared over the edge of the hill, a dozen more behind them. They were all armed, all ready for war. They were an army all on their own, Paige realized, with this Ruby at their helm.

"Rumors of my deresolution have been greatly exaggerated," She said with a smile, then looked to Paige. Her smile lingered, the look in her eyes knowing as she said, "I trust Medic Paige and Quorra are telling us the truth. And even if they aren't," She turned back to face the crowd, her crew of Sirens spread out around them, "This is our best chance to put an end to Clu. Now…” Staff in hand, she raised her disk to the air. “Who's with me!?"

"We are!" The Resistance roared, disks glowing against the dark. As the Sirens trotted forward to help organize the massive crowd into strike teams, one pulling the male-designate away, Paige sighed in relief. She looked up as Ruby came to stand beside her.

"Thank you," Paige said, "I don't know why you vouched for us, but…thank you."

Ruby laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled warmly.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Paige. Everyone." The knowing look was still in her eyes. Something warm uncoiled in Paige’s core as Ruby gently pinged [trust] down her arm. Together, the pair looked up at the Admin Tower, where streaks of white light could just be seen clashing with streaks of red. A smirk curled across Paige’s face and she reached for her baton. She gestured up at the tower with it, and Ruby tilted her head.

“Well,” She corrected herself with a mirrored smirk, “Almost everyone.”

— “I have to admit,” Dyson said as he stepped back from a wide swing, “I’m impressed! You fight well for a simulation-assigned program, Yori.”

Yori paused for a nano, tucking her staff beneath her arm. Dyson had stepped back from nearly every blow, only a streak of blue internal code smeared down his face to show for her efforts in breaking his head. She’d gotten his nose, at least, but he was infinitely more experienced in combat than she was. It was all she could do to keep him from using his disk on her neck instead, and she knew part of that was because he was still toying with her.

She hated that. His sneer made her core spin up faster and faster, the look in his eyes like a new beta staring at a three-legged Grid-bug and wondering if they should put it out of its misery quickly or pull off another leg instead.

“I was trained by the best,” She spat at him. He blinked, then scoffed out a laugh.

“The best?” He shook his head, disk tapping against his hip, “Yori, please. Tron is hardly the best—”

He cut himself off mid-sentence as she leapt at him, staff coming in hard. He ‘oof’ed and sprawled as she caught him across the ribs this time, but quickly got back to his feet and stared as she glared at him.

“Not Tron,” She said, “Ruby.” She narrowed her eyes. “You always did underestimate the ones who didn’t share your designation.”

Dyson narrowed his eyes. Yori tightened her grip on her staff and stepped to the side. In the cycles before all of this, when he and Tron had still been friends, Dyson had always had an odd edge to him, one that caught on Yori like a bad read. It wasn’t that he’d been unfriendly to her, she thought as they began to circle one another, it was that he just never seemed to look at her—or Ruby, or any other female-designate—the same way he looked at Tron. He’d never seemed to be able to expect the best from them.

That was going to be his undoing, Yori thought firmly. With a sharp cry she pushed off with one foot and lunged at Dyson, bringing her staff around hard and fast. He leapt back, flipping away from one blow and tossing himself out of the way of another, always missing the hit by mere millimeters. Yori cursed, trying to close the tiny gap, but he was just fast enough that he could dodge her.

Not fast enough to attack back, at least, and she could tell that bothered him. His brow furrowed, eyes flashing and circuits glowing brighter and brighter as she kept pushing him back, closer and closer to a corner. She almost grinned: if she could corner him, she’d have him at range. He wouldn’t be able to throw his disk and she’d have him.

“No!” Tron suddenly shouted from above. Yori missed a step, instinctively looking up at the fear in his voice. Footsteps rattled down the stairs nearby and Yori turned; a flare of gold had just appeared when something—someone—tried to wrench her staff out of her hands.

Dyson.

Yori cursed to herself—Ruby would have had her disk for so sloppy a a move—and held on with all her strength, but Dyson was stronger still. With a heave and a short cry of his own he tossed her, staff and all, towards the nearest window. She hit port first, warnings flaring as the glass cracked behind her. Trying to ignore the pain, Yori pushed herself back to her feet and took her stance once more. She scanned the room, watching as four golden-lined Honor Guard took positions behind and beside Dyson, disks revving in their hands. Yori grimaced, holding her staff tight to her chest. The glass of the tower was snow-cold against her port this high up. If she tried to jump, she’d have only nanos to crack her baton into a jet before the fall would become terminal. Swallowing hard, Yori shifted her stance.

This was it. Whoever moved next would change the course of the battle. It would have to be her.

Each of the Honor Guard took a step forward in unison. She held her staff out in front of her, eyes skimming across all of them. Her gaze caught on Dyson’s sneer.

“I’ll give Tron your regards,” He said in a voice like sour energy, “Do say hello to Ruby for me.”

Yori snarled at him. She opened her mouth to retort as the Honor Guard took another matched step forward, but then she caught sight of a reflection in their helmets. Dyson’s breath hitched, caught in his intakes. He stepped back.

Yori threw herself to the ground, hands over her port, as glass shattered from the window behind her. A blur of white and silver threw itself into the room and came up with an energetic little hop, a dark fist crashing into the chin of an Honor Guard. The program went down hard, wordlessly derezzing as the Siren slammed her staff into his middle before turning to the remaining three. Yori looked up and let her core rise in hope.

“Ruby!” She shouted. Ruby smiled back at her.

“Hello, Yori,” She said kindly, “Looks like you could use some help.”

Then she rushed at the remaining Guards. Yori scrambled to her feet and hurled herself at the stunned Dyson with a shout; he stepped back, disk up, only to meet hers in a clash of sparks. Her staff dropped to the ground with a clang as she leaned all her weight against him, white clashing with gold just behind her in little flares of light like fireworks. She bared her teeth as he slipped backwards, her feet nearly slipping out beneath her from the force.

Then he shook off the surprise and pushed back. Rather than be caught in a grapple she dropped, sweeping a kick at his legs. He tried to leap back but she caught his ankle and he tumbled; she scrambled to grab her staff, nearly knocked it away with her fingertips before she could get hold of it, and had to roll to the side as he got back to his feet and dove at her. He grabbed her by the arm before she could get free, yanking her back before the floor seemed to cave as his weight landed firmly on her torso, her port screaming and torso joining the chorus as his frame pressed against hers. He was so close she could feel his output against her face as he spoke.

“You think you can change anything,” He sneered at her, “but all you’re doing is prolonging the inevitable. Clu will win, and when he does, Tron will be his.” His eyes narrowed in distaste. Yori snarled at him but had no air to spare for speaking as he continued, “And I am going to enjoy making him watch as I derezz you and Beck both, bit by. Excruciating. Bit.”

He reached for her face with one hand. Before his fingers could come down his eyes went wide.

“Catch!” Ruby shouted a single nano before a blur of gold and black slammed into Dyson and knocked him clean off of Yori. She gasped, coughing on the intake as she rolled herself to her side. She turned her head, still struggling for breath, and would have laughed if she had the air to spare. Dyson had definitely caught that Honor Guard, and was now struggling back to his own stance through a pile of golden-lined cubes. There was only going to be one shot at this.

Quick as she could Yori turned off her pain circuit and grabbed her staff. She heaved herself to her feet, palmed her disk, and threw it wildly. Dyson ducked the wide throw but not the staff that came for his head a nano later, knocking him back to the ground with a surprised grunt. He caught himself on his hands and turned to get up, to leap back to his feet, but this time Yori was there and ready for him. He went stiff as she held her staff at his throat, breathing hard. He stared up at her with wide eyes, and though it was more of a snarl than a grin, she smiled at him.

“You will never,” She said firmly, “get to hurt Tron again.”

She drove her staff down into his throat. He didn’t even have a chance to scream before his head collapsed into cubes, the rest of his frame failing a nano later.

Then she was alone with only Ruby. She turned to her old friend, who looked up from where she was kicking the last of golden-edged cubes away. Ruby smiled at her, arms outstretched. Yori tossed her staff aside and took a few shaky steps forward, collapsing into Ruby’s arms a nano later. She took in a deep breath, shaking on the inhale, before letting it go as she clung to Ruby with all her remaining strength.

“They told me you were gone…”

“I almost was,” Ruby’s voice rattled through her frame, “By the time I came to, Argon was nearly gone. I almost didn’t make it back.” Yori squeezed harder, clinging to her oldest friend. “Come on now, Yori,” Ruby’s voice was soft, the hand in Yori’s hair a comfort, “You know me.” She pulled back enough to lean their foreheads together, “I’m far too stubborn to go ahead and derezz like that.”

Yori laughed a little, the sound small through her tightened intakes.

“So you’ve told me. Can you forgive me for forgetting?” She asked as they pulled apart. Ruby chuckled, brushing a loose lock of Yori’s hair back behind an ear.

“We’ll call it even if we can pull this off.” She looked up to next floor, and the strikes of light that they could just see from down below. “We still have work to do.”

“Yeah,” Yori looked back, core in her throat as she caught a glimpse of white leaping back from a command-yellow disk. Tron and Beck were in that fight on their own. She had to have faith. He’d survived this long, and if they went up there now she’d only get in the way.

As much as she wanted a piece of Clu, this was their fight. She turned back to Ruby.

“Let’s go clean up our city.”

— “You know,” Clu said, trembling hands clenched at the small of his back as he stared out into the Capitol below, “I have to say I’m impressed. You two sure do know how to cause trouble.”

“It’s in our code,” Tron spat back, disk revving in his hand. Beck looked sideways at him for a moment, then out the window past Clu. From the top floor of the Admin Tower, the entirety of the Capitol could be seen. What wasn’t covered by thick storm clouds, at any rate, the foreboding storm having broken above the city with booming thunder and cracks of lightning. Not even the tallest towers breached the storm, but the Admin Tower rose one level above it. Doubtlessly, Beck realized, so the Command Ship could dock without being affected by any storms.

It also meant that a fall from this height, if a program didn’t catch themselves, would be entirely unsurvivable. Watching the tense line of Tron’s shoulders in the reflection of the glass, Beck came to the stark conclusion that that may have been Clu’s best chance at a peaceful deresolution. Tron didn’t seem ready to give him one otherwise.

With narrowed eyes Beck turned his attention to Clu. He didn’t turn around, choosing instead to keep watch on roiling storm. He tilted his head as if listening to something Beck couldn’t hear, then closed his eyes. On the spiral staircase up to the rooftop, the four golden-lined Honor Guard shifted their weight. Beck tightened his grip on his disk.

“So it is,” Clu finally sighed, “So it is.”

He turned around. Behind him, just by the window, was the terminal that Yori had pointed out would wrench control away from Clu. If they could just get his disk onto it, they could end all of this.

Something told Beck it wouldn’t be that simply. An Honor Guard shifted his weight, foot scuffing against a step. Could Clu fight, Beck wondered. If he could, then this was about to get very ugly. If he couldn’t, four against two wasn’t the worst odds on the Grid. He still didn’t like it, though. He watched through narrowed eyes as Clu took a single step forward.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you two to step down and just…let this all blow over?” Clu spread a hand in the air towards them. Beck shifted his stance to something more defensive as Tron growled low in his throat. Clu retracted his hand, letting it fall limp to his side as his face fell into a frown. “…I didn’t think so.” He laughed quietly, but the edge was raw in a way Beck couldn’t quite place. The Honor Guard shifted their weight again, but none reached for their disks. Tron shifted his stance.

“So much for the plan,” Tron said almost to himself. Beck shot his mentor a look from the corner of his eye.

"When's the last time anything went according to plan," Beck hissed quietly. Tron rolled his shoulders in almost a shrug.

"I don't think there was a last time."

Beck nearly laughed. He forced himself to look back at Clu, who had come to a stop just out of reach. For half a micro, no one moved. Thunder rumbled outside and lightning flashed. They all just stood there, watching, waiting. The window reflected Beck’s Argon-issue circuits back at him, and he forced himself to look at Clu. Clu was frowning, brow furrowed.

Then he sighed and shook his head. “I can see why Dyson was so afraid of you two. The amount of chaos you two can cause…” He looked up and nearly seemed to glare at them. “You’re worse than the Isos.

Tron snorted.

“That’s high praise, coming from you.” He said coolly, “How long did it take for you to take them out? And you still couldn’t do it.”

Clu waved a hand in the air, though his circuits flickered. “One Iso left is hardly a problem. I’ll deal with her sooner rather than later.”

“No,” Tron and Beck said in unison. Quorra had saved them in the Outlands, had taken Tron back to his partner. Beck would sooner derezz than let her go undefended, and it seemed to him that Tron was the same as he continued, “You’ll be derezzed before I let that happen, Clu. This is where it’s going to end for you.”

Clu sighed again, the same put-upon sigh that Able had used to sigh whenever one of his mechanics just couldn’t seem to get the point. Beck’s core lurched; that sound didn’t sound right coming from Clu. He shook off the thought as Clu shook his head.

“No, Tron,” He said with a gesture to his Guard behind him, “This is where it ends for all of you.”

Before they could react, the four golden-lined programs rushed for the stairs in a single knot. Beck leapt back out of their way rather than be bowled over, but they ducked Tron’s wildly thrown disk and made it out the door before they could be stopped.

“No!” Tron shouted, rushing for the stairwell. There was a ringing sound, almost like a struck glass of energy, and then Tron had to skid to a stop as a yellow-lined wall slammed up in front of him, blocking all access back downstairs. Beck turned around, glaring at Clu as he wagged a finger in Tron’s direction, one foot still positioned as if he’d just stomped it to the ground.

“It’s not nice to walk off on an old friend like that, Tron. We weren’t done talking.” Clu said chidingly. Tron whirled around, brow furrowed and eyes wild with rage. Beck nearly stepped back. Clu actually did, blinking for a nano before he frowned. “I’m sure Dyson is taking very good care of Yori.”

“You glitching piece of malware!” Tron shouted, startling them both. Beck whirled around, staring with wide eyes as Tron stalked back towards Clu. “If anything happens to her, I’ll derezz you with my bare hands!”

He heard more than saw Clu step back, towards the windows as Tron came to a halt at Beck’s side. Clu’s circuits flickered for half a nano, then stabilized as he frowned.

“No,” He said, “You won’t. Once I’m done with you, you won’t mind that she’s gone.” His eyes fell to Beck. Tron’s growl was audible this time. “You won’t care that anyone’s gone once we’re through here. You’ll do away with them yourself.”

By becoming Clu’s greatest weapon against the Resistance. Core lurching hard, Beck turned to keep his back out of Clu’s sight. His disk revved in his hand. Beside him, Tron began to shift his weight.

“He has to be stopped,” Tron spat, “Whatever it takes.”

Whatever the cost went unsaid. Beck looked from Tron to Clu, standing there with his shoulders straight even as they trembled, before he squared his shoulders and nodded.

“Whatever it takes.”

In unison, the pair of them shot off towards Clu. His eyes went wide with alarm and he scrambled to grab his disk, bringing it up in near useless defense. Yellow clashed with two sources of blue-tinged white, sparks dropping to the floor beneath them. Though it was obvious through the visible strain and tremble of his arm that Clu wasn’t properly trained—breaking a grapple had been one of the first things Tron had taught Beck himself—he had the raw power to not really need to be in a case like this. Beck’s boots slipped; he shifted his stance, pushed more of his weight onto Clu’s disk and arms, and Clu stumbled back with a shout. Beck ducked away, letting Tron pass through to punch Clu right in the jaw. Clu stumbled again and then Tron was there again with another punch, and then another. Blue internal code splattered against the ground before Clu could catch his balance and bring his disk back up, catching Tron’s disk. Beck rushed back in, disk raised and ready, but Clu shifted just enough that he was able to hold the two of them in a lock once more. His entire body trembled now, circuits pulsing as he tried to reroute power and hold them off.

An alarm sounded, the circuits of the tower fading from Command-yellow to a bright red that pulsed on for three nanos, then off for two. The pattern repeated as screens all along the windows flared to life, glowing in response to the alarm. Caught in a three way tangle the trio of programs stared at the screens, watching with equally wide eyes as the streets flooded with the programs of the Resistance, guided by gleaming white-suited Sirens. Disks clashed with disks as the Resistance began in earnest. There were more soldiers in the streets now, red lines flaring bright as they fought for their disks. A tank appeared around a corner, firing a shot that scored down the street to explode in a knot of Emblem-wearing programs. Beck’s core stuttered for a nano as the shouts and roar of the crowd became so loud that it was audible even at this height, even with the screens sound output turned off. It nearly froze in his chest as he caught a glimpse of Mara’s cyan hair, Zed at her side, and then they were both out of sight, tackling a Blackguard to the street and out of the camera’s reach. Arms straining, Clu shook his head.

“No,” He whispered, looking from one screen to another, looking as his rule began to collapse. “No no no!” He turned on Tron and Beck with a wild snarl. “Do you two have any idea what you’ve done?!”

Before either could reply he stomped his foot down hard. Code gleamed in fractal lines for half a nano before erupting upwards in a shoddily constructed wall, forcing the pair of them back. Clu came out in a whirlwind, slashes wide and sloppy in a manner that spoke more of lack of training than anything else.

“Do you have any idea how many programs you just got derezzed?!” He screamed. Beck ducked, sidestepping out of the way.

“They’re not here because of us!” He shouted back, flipping away from a particularly harsh slash at his middle, “They’re here because they can’t stand you being in power anymore!”

“They’ll all be derezzed! The Grid will keep collapsing!” He slashed his disk at Beck again, and this time got close enough that Beck could feel the heat of it. It did nothing to chase away the chill in his core; the Grid was collapsing? A few paces to the side Tron tossed his disk, forcing Clu back away from Beck.

“Because you keep repurposing and destroying everything!” He shouted back at Clu as Clu turned that snarl on his former friend, “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t turned on the Grid!”

“The Isos were ruining everything!” Clu screamed, fractal lines branching out from beneath his boots. The tower shook and windows cracked, several screens disappearing as their emitters failed. “If I hadn’t taken over, we’d all be gone already!”

“And this has helped?!” Tron shouted as he caught his disk. Thunder roared outside, but it could do nothing against the roar of the crowd below. “This is your fault! And there’s nothing you can do to make it right!”

Clu’s eyes were wild, wide as he looked from Tron to the remaining screens to Beck and then back again. His disk sputtered in his hand, went dim, and for a nano Beck thought that was it. That the guilt of Clu’s actions had caught up with him and the fight was over.

“I don’t think a sentence in the Games is going to fix this,” Beck said sternly. Clu went stiff.

“No,” Clu whispered, “No. No more games,” Clu snarled, turning to face Beck head on. Beck stepped back, startled by the rage in his eyes. “I’m done playing around with you two! I’m going to do what I should have done the nano I first saw you!”

His disk suddenly glowed so bright Beck couldn’t look at it; he turned away, bringing up his arm in defense as Clu began to charge only to turn around and meet Tron head on as the old program began to come at him from behind. Their disks clashed with a bright flash, yellow melding with blue-white, and sparks drifted to the ground as Tron tried—and failed—to break the grapple. Clu’s circuits flared overload bright as their disks scraped together, the sound of the edges clashing like nails down glass. Not letting himself hesitate Beck charged at the opening, then was caught in the middle as Clu stomped again, the wall coming up too quickly to dodge. He tumbled over it head over heels with a short cry, wheezing breathlessly and processor protesting as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel the clash in the floor as he got to his hands and knees, staring up at the two of them.

“Face it, Clu—” Tron grit out, “It’s over! You’re done!”

Disk still caught he broke the clash with a headbutt, knocking his forehead against Clu’s. Clu stumbled back a few paces, clutching at his head with his free hand. A nano later Tron broke into a run, only to be stopped head in his tracks as another wall came up fast and hard. Tron impacted with every ounce of momentum his run gave him and tumbled backwards with the breath knocked clean out of him. Clu moved, taking a step towards his prone former friend, but Beck lurched to his feet and rushed in before Clu could do more than take a step in pursuit; with a cry he charged bodily right into Clu’s middle, tackling him to the ground. The impact was hard and breath stealing, forceful enough that they rolled once, twice, three times until they were nearly at a window. They came to their knees in the same nano, disks revving and held at each other’s throats. Beck’s circuitry flickered, but his arm was steady. Clu was breathing hard, the disk rasping up and down his neck with each cycle of intake and outflow. His eyes were wide, pupils blown from the light of his burning hot disk as he stared at Beck’s stern face.

Then he laughed. The sound was high, rimmed in hysteria. His disk flared; Beck narrowed his eyes against the light.

“You won’t hurt me,” Clu said, in unknowing mockery of Tron’s words all that time ago. Beck snarled as Clu continued, “I know your binary. You don’t derezz programs, Mechanic.” He hissed the word as if it were a curse, an oath of pain. Beck didn’t flinch.

“You’re right,” he said firmly as he could, ignoring the tremble of Clu’s disk at his throat. If either of them moved, that would be the end of both of them. His free hand went to his hip, to bypass the floor and send Clu tumbling down a level, but the bypasser wasn’t there. It was still downstairs. Beck cursed himself. “I am a Mechanic. I was made to fix things,” Programs, even. His eyes narrowed further. “I was designed to help keep the Grid safe.”

Clu said nothing. A handful of nanos ticked by before he inhaled and then said in a quiet voice, “Even from its Admin?”

“Even from you.”

Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A flicker of white light—a disk, coming right at them. Dropping his disk Beck threw himself to the ground; Clu’s disk cut a thin gash down the side of his neck but could go no further, because with a screeching noise and a cascade of sparks, Tron’s disk collided with Clu’s to send them both to embed themselves in the floor as Clu cried out in surprise. Now back on his feet, Tron stalked over. Clu scrambled back, eyes wide with panic. His suit squeaked against the floor as Beck rose to his knees.

"Tron, don't,” Clu wheezed, the distance between the old programs closing fast, “--you don't--"

"Don't what?” Tron hissed, bending to pick up his disk, “Want to lock you up and lose the key?” He pulled his disk from the ground with a stiff wrench, “Don't want to derezz you with my bare hands?” His back was to Beck, posture straight and offensive. He threw out a hand in a harsh slash, circuits overload bright. “I trusted you! But you turned on the Grid! You turned on Flynn!"

"I was tasked with making the Grid perfect!” Clu threw up his hands in useless defense, “I was following my directive!"

"By erasing innocent programs!?"

"By making them perfect!” Clu sat up straighter now, never taking his eyes off of Tron. "They're better now!”

Tron stopped moving. He was nearly on top of Clu now, and Clu had to strain his neck to look up at him. For a few tense nanos, no one said anything. Clu reached to the ground with one hand, fractal lines spreading from each finger.

“…They’re perfect now?” Tron asked tightly. Clu’s hand clenched into a fist, the lines stopping in their tracks. He smiled up at Tron.

“Yes—yes, exactly! They’re perfect! Just like you two can be if you just—”

Whatever Clu was going to say stopped dead in his throat. He stared with wide, terrified eyes as Tron raised his disk with both hands, the line of his shoulders tense.

“Tron—” Clu shook his head, raising an arm to defend himself, “Tron wait—”

Tron plunged his disk down.

With an echoing scream, Clu collapsed into a pile of yellow-edged cubes. Beck watched as Tron crouched there, in the remains of a program he had once called friend, and kept his eyes closed.

[Warning. Critical system failure. Warning: Critical system failure.]

Beneath them both, the Grid began to tremble. Beck turned on his hands, half bent, to look out the window at the Capitol. He watched, core lurching as the outer reaches of the city began to go dark. Like a wave crashing upon the shore, the middle ring of the capitol followed.

Then the darkness reached them. Everything, from the overhead lights to the circuits on their suits went dark.

For a micro, all was still. For a micro, all was silent. For a micro, the program that was Beck knew nothing.

But then...

[Reboot initiated. Please stand by.]

Awareness returned. The lights came back on. First the control room, the overhead lights flaring overload bright, then the streets below. Thousands of programs circuits lit up in unison, surrounding heaps of collapsed red-lined soldiers with their disks still out. It looked to Beck as if the entire population of the Capitol had come out to fight for their freedom, and they’d somehow won. The outer limits of the city came back online, the ambient light of the Grid somehow brighter.

He turned away from the window. Clu’s cubes still lay in the center of the room, but Tron now stood at the terminal with both his disk and Clu’s laying across it. Clu’s disk was finally going dim, but Tron’s glowed a bright, luminous white, the same white as the tower itself. Though his voice was clear, his eyes were dark, his shoulders slumped. Pushing himself to his feet despite the aches and pains beginning to surface, Beck walked over as Tron made his first announcement as System Administrator.

"Lay down your disks, programs," his voice boomed across the city, coming from every speaker that Clu had once used to broadcast his own messages, "It's over."

"It's over." Beck repeated only for their inputs. He smiled faintly when Tron turned to look at him, and as one they turned to look out the window. In the streets below, a roar had started up, louder still than the storm that was just now beginning to break apart.

No, not a roar. A cheer. Tens of thousands of programs filled the streets of the Capitol, disks in hand, and shouted in unison:

"Tron lives!"

With a frame rattling sigh, Tron closed his eyes. Beck reached out to steady him with a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tremble and the raw power in his frame now. Tron had taken on the mantle of System Administrator, wrenching control from Clu and saving the Grid itself, but even Beck could feel that he wasn’t the only entity in control now. Something in the Grid itself had changed, and hopefully for the better. Beck sighed quietly to himself.

The war was over.

It was done.

[pico-digital-studios]

I might as well join in with this one!

Nickname: "Finnster"

Zodiac: Aquarius

Height: 5'9'' ft

Hogwarts House: Honestly, I can't really decide.

Last thing I Googled: Just Dance

Song Stuck in my Head: Most of Just Dance 2023 Edition's song library

Number of followers: I'd say around 54.

Amount of Sleep: 8 hours

Lucky Number: 5

Dream Job: Fanfic Author, though I've got planned admin jobs to pass me by in the meantime

Wearing: A green T-shirt and grey trousers with Sonic socks.

Favourite song: My current ones are "Boy With Luv" by BTS and "True Faith" by New Order.

Aesthetic: Yellow, playful areas, nostalgia, lovely window views, pasta, lo-fi music, Tumblr, a fan for hot summer days, a big TV for watching stuff like vehicle documentaries and the Olympics

Favourite author: It's between either Roald Dahl or David Walliams for me.

Favourite instrument: Piano/keyboard

Favourite animal noise: Ducks

Random: I'd say canon is a loose term if we're thinking about different works (video games, comics, TV shows, etc.) under the same franchise. These things exist and are canon in their own little spaces.

No pressure tags:

@becdoesthings, @bluebun69, @btnfstudios, @mcgamejolter, @jordangaming101

And that's that for me. Stay safe, people!

17 questions

Thanks @midnanoire for the tag!

1. Nickname: I have a lot of weird, inside joke nicknames from my siblings, but I don’t really have a normal nickname that other people call me. Sometimes, people call me Lilly, but that’s pretty rare.

2. Zodiac: Aries

3. Height: I’m somewhere between 5′4″ and 5′5″. When people ask, I usually round up ;)

4. Hogwarts House: I don’t know, I was never a Harry Potter fan, so I can’t really answer this question.

5. Last thing I Googled: I was looking up the anime Colourful just to know what it was. The more interesting thing I recently googled was chess references in Hamilton lol.

6. Song Stuck in My Head: “Where is Your Rider” by the Oh Hellos. I’ve listened to it quite a bit lately, and that hook is incredible and has been embedded in my brain for days.

7. Number of Followers: 227

8. Amount of Sleep: I went to sleep last night at 7am, so I’m having a really great day lol. I think I got just under 6 hours of sleep, because I was at least able to sleep in a bit.

9. Lucky Number: I don’t really have one? I do enjoy the numbers 4 and 9 for mental math purposes, but I’m not quite sure why I like them so much.

10. Dream Job: I’d like to work in the publishing industry in some capacity. Author would be fun, but I’d actually prefer to be an editor at this point in time. I actually just applied for an editing intern at Harper Collins, so fingers crossed I guess.

11. Wearing: Shorts and tee shirt. It’s been quite hot lately.

12. Favourite song: Hmm, not sure. I have a lot of songs I really like, but maybe Carrying You from Castle in the Sky? I really love the regular, instrumental version of the theme. It’s beautiful.

13. Aesthetic: Maybe it’s because I grew up in the country, but I love big farms with flocks of cows and sheep. It makes me so happy.

14. Favourite author: John Milton probably. I’m a big nerd for that era of history, and Milton always delivers quality literature.

15. Favourite instrument: Guitar definitely, but piano and cello are quite nice too.

16. Favourite Animal Noise: Is it cliche to say a lion’s roar? It’s so majestic. Although, I really like otters’ happy little squeaks too. They’re so cute.

17. Random: Ugh… I guess I’ve been playing a lot of video games lately. I’m catching up on some PS4 games I missed when I didn’t have the console, and I recently finished Spiderman (which was good) and now I’m on Ghost of Tsushima, which is just… beautiful. I’ve also gotten into Mario Tennis a lot.

I’m not going to bother tagging anyone, in case this is a nuisance or whatever, but if you want to do it and you follow me, consider yourself tagged :)

[asteraes-aster]

Kenny headcanon:

bandaids addition

Everyone draws Kenny with bandaids and, honestly, I love it. It's aesthetically pleasing and it's like a reference to how the world is out to kill him.

But Kenny wouldn't use bandaids.

Bandaids cost money, that his family doesn't have.

If Kenny dies, he'd just come back. What's one little cut to an immortal?

Essentially, he views it as a huge waste of resources and time. Kenny isn't worth wasting bandaids on. The scars will fade when he's reborn again anyways.

To conclude: don't draw Kenny with bandaids, but old/open cuts because Kenny w o u l d n ' t treat his wounds.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Day Five – Reader Appreciation!

Day five of this event is going to be me just having the chance to show all my love and appreciation by focusing on my fabulous readers! Because I truly love all of you very much! I’ll be accepting all types of match-up’s, personalized asks for you or your original characters, and will include one or two prompts!

Some ideas for requests include:

OC Creation – Give me all the information you can on your original character/self-insert! I’ll then either write a drabble or some headcanons for any request you would like – generic things like what I could see your life being like in fandom or a romantic/platonic/family relationship being like between your oc/you or specifically tailored things for a situation of your choosing!

Surprise Box – A surprise box is a gift where you fill out the below form with yours or your character’s information and then I read it and prepare a little present! The surprise is obviously that you won’t know what the present is; it’ll be the first thing that pops into my head! The form is as follows:

NAME: This can be your blog name or what you want me to call you or your character, both if it’s needed in the surprise and just to identify when I post your surprise box! PERSONALITY: Describe yours or your character’s personality here as these surprise boxes are personalized for each person! Tell me about yourself and don’t be shy – the more I know, the better I can make the surprise! LIKES & DISLIKES: Again, as with personality, this is simply me gaining details to work out the best surprise! HOBBIES: See above explanations! APPEARANCE: This is definitely just to allow me to personalize any surprise more! FAVOURITE & LEAST FAVOURITE CHARACTER: Please feel free to list more than one if you want! This really helps me choose or eliminate different potential characters to include in the surprise! GIVE ME: Your favourite song lyric, quote, word, etc! It helps me gain inspiration or I sometimes use them as prompts!

Prompt One! - Fill out either your description or your character’s description, including as many details as possible (hobbies, likes, dislikes, personality, etc.). With this information, I’ll tell you:

Canon siblings: this is completely up to the admin and left to their discretion; some may have siblings, others won’t Canon best friend Canon Frenemies/Enemies Canon Character(s) with a crush on you First Romantic Relationship with a canon character Canon character you lost your virginity to Canon character you marry or get into a committed relationship with Canon character who either consistently purposefully or accidentally cockblocks you Canon affiliation: Depending on the fandom requested for, this will tell you what team you’re on, gang you’re a part of, family you’re in, if any; whether you’re more heroic or villainous, etc., etc. Special abilities in canon: Depending on the fandom, this may or may not be filled out 5 headcanons about your life in canon

Prompt Two! - Send me your information as with all the others, or your OC’s information, and one or all of the colours for:

BLACK - - what face claim from an anime, comic, or cartoon I associate you with? WHITE - - what superpower/flame type & box weapon/ability I think you’d have in my different fandoms? RED - - what aesthetics I associate with you? BLUE - - what three songs I’d put on a playlist for you? YELLOW - - which fictional world out of all my various fandoms would I picture you in easiest? GREEN - - who I’d pair you with out of all my fandoms? PURPLE - - what gif reminds me of you? PINK - - if you were an AU, what type of AU would you be? RAINBOW - - if I were to write a sequel-fic for a particular fandom of your choice, and could only use reader’s as my characters, who would you be?

[i-only-write-in-purple-ink]

Day 2: Crown (12 Days of Writers Self Love)

I couldn’t decide which of two ideas I wanted to do more, so I did them both! Apologies if this got a little long. I really did enjoy writing these, this challenge is turning out wonderfully! Many thanks to @writeblrfantasy for creating it!

1. Hermitcraft Season 8, White Wings AU (main story here) 2. Hermitcraft Season 9, Third Life SMP

1. HC Season 8, White Wings AU

Tommy had seen many crowns in his lifetime.

The gem-encrusted crown of the SMP, first worn by Eret, and then George.

Ranboo’s humble diadem, studded with rough-cut rubies and emeralds mined by hand from the depths of the earth.

The golden spikes adorning the top of Sam’s Warden armor, fused to the mask he had worn more and more often.

Techno’s simple golden circlet, twin to Phil’s silver one, relics of an empire long past.

But he had never worn one of his own before now.

False measured out a length of copper wire before presenting it to Tommy with a wink. “It’s easier if you start with this.”

Gem taught him how to weave stalks of grass together, how to twist and braid the fragile stems around the wire until they formed something resilient, stronger. Something complete.

Stress regaled him with the meanings of different flowers, what made them grow the best, which ones were good for tea or scents or dyes. Under her careful eye he worked Queen Anne’s lace, lavender, daffodils, and yellow orchids into the strands of his masterpiece.

Iskall chuckled as he swept a lock of Tommy’s ivory hair away from his eyes. “Ready?” He asked, his organic eye twinkling with warmth as it darted around Tommy’s face. Tommy nodded, expression implacable, and Iskall placed the completed flower crown gracefully among his curls. The Swede examined his handiwork for a moment, tucking hair or flowers into place, before nodding in satisfaction.

Iskall picked up his own creation from the ground beside him, sporting purple asters and orange orchids, and crowned himself with a flourish. Tommy tilted his head, judging through squinted eyes. After a few seconds a small smile rose to his face, and he nodded in approval. It's good. I like it, he signed.

A small noise made them both turn to where Xisuma was seated on the soft grass, his crown of blue bellflowers and pink dahlias resting crookedly on top of his helmet. He was struggling to right it, but the mechanical axolotl gills on either side of his visor made it so that the woven headress kept slipping. “I guess I’m just not made for crowns,” he said good-naturedly when he noticed them looking, giving up the fight and leaving the flowers slightly off-kilter.

Perfect, Tommy signed to him, and the admin let out a surprised laugh. “Perfect? I suppose it does suit me. I’m a bit of derp even on the best of days.”

Tommy leaned back, and let the sun hit his face. Laughter danced in the wind as the Hermits delighted in the carefree summer day. He had never felt so far and yet so close to home.

-----

// Yes, I know these flowers wouldn’t all exist in the same climate as each other. But honestly this is Minecraft fanfiction so lower your expectations and let me have my dramatic flower symbolism :’D 

// I really like that trope in fiction, I wish people did more of it. And can you tell I’m a sucker for found family? Lol

// Not me giving my headcanons for the DSMP crowns and forgetting all about the MCC champion team crowns. 💀 MCC is only sort of canon to this universe.... we can chalk it up to ww!Tommy never participating in MCC before, that’s only for the really famous competitive types like Technoblade and Grian. Yep. Definitely no plotholes here.

// Flower Meanings  vvv

Tommy:

Queen Anne’s lace (safety, sanctuary, and refuge)

Lavender (purity, silence, serenity)

Daffodils (rebirth, new beginnings)

Yellow Orchids (new beginnings, friendship, joy)

Iskall:

Asters (love, wisdom, trust)

Orange Orchids (pride, enthusiasm, boldness)

Xisuma:

Bellflowers (affection, constancy, unwavering love)

Pink Dahlias (elegance, grace, kindness)

2. HC Season 9, 3rd Life SMP

Kingmaker. That’s what they called him.

Ren rolled the chess piece between his fingers, relishing the weight of the solid obsidian. It made a satisfying clack as he placed it back in its spot on the board. The black queen.

If he was the king, the ruler over the entire Hermitcraft server, then Bdubs would be his queen. He certainly wielded enough power; it was through Bdubs’ support alone that Ren won the crown. Bdubs was the one who built the Crastle for him, who was his advisor, defender, friend. His second-in-command, his right… hand….

Ren frowned, unease rising in his gut, a sudden chill burning the tips of his fingers. He curled his hands into fists on reflex. Something wasn’t right.

He rose from his throne with a growl and swept down the stairs from the royal dais, his cape billowing out behind him. His paws made no noise on the plush carpet running down the center of the throne room, keeping away the chill of solid stone.

“Sir BdoubleO? Your king summons you!” Ren called, his voice echoing through the empty stone halls. He waited a few moments, but only silence answered.

“Bdubs? Where are youuuuu….” His words bounced eerily off of the cavernous ceilings, echoing back as if mocking him. He hesitantly ventured down a hallway, turned, and was faced with an identical hallway. He followed it, but that only yielded another similar looking passageway. The next was almost exactly the same. And the next. Ren frowned. He hadn’t remembered there being quite this many corridors in his Crastle.

He followed more turns, traversed more corridors, calls going unheard and unanswered, until he realized he was well and truly lost. Ren stopped at a four-way intersection, glancing down each hall. They all felt familiar, but was that because they looked the same or because he truly recognized them?

Ren pulled his cloak tighter around himself, shivering. And when had it gotten so cold? He needed to tell Bdubs to install some sort of heating system in the castle, like magma blocks behind the walls or something. These were not livable temperatures, certainly not for a king.

Ren’s breath had begun to fog the air by the time he reached something that certainly didn’t belong: a set of arched glass doors, metalwork spiraling intricately across their frosted surface. The metal handles were bitterly cold, but they turned without protest as he pushed the double doors open.

Beyond lay a courtyard, dead branches hanging like corpses over flowerbeds full of dried leaves. A few inches of snow was dusted over everything in sight, drifting heavily in the corners and on the trees. Ren’s trepidation spiked. It was supposed to be summer on the Hermitcraft server, after all. And the Crastle didn’t have an interior garden.

He stepped out into the courtyard, bracing himself against the freezing gusts of air. His royal cape was woefully equipped to protect him from the full wrath of a winter’s wind. The harsh blasts died down into a biting breeze as he neared the center of the courtyard, snow crunching beneath his paws. Ren scarcely minded the cold as he stared wide-eyed at the centerpiece of this unnatural display.

A large stone altar rose from the ground, more of an elevated platform than anything else. Ren ascended its steps, captivated by the rough, indecipherable runes hewn deep into the surface. Lines had been cut straight across the top slab, radiating out from a shallow, bowl-like indentation at the middle. Blood channels, Ren realized with a growing horror. Blood channels that had clearly already been used.

A sudden growl had him tensing, ears lying flat and lips pulled back into a snarl. The sound seemed to emenate from every corner of the courtyard at once, circling as one would stalk prey. It was more than a threat. This was the hunting call of a predator.

Ren scanned the courtyard wildly, but there was nothing to see except a slate-gray sky bordered by gargoylic crenelations and the first few flurries of snowfall. The rumbling grew louder and louder, until the very air trembled before it. Oh, little wolf, the voice purred, smugly satisfied and impossibly deep.

“Who are you?” Ren shouted at the sky, hating the way his voice had gone high-pitched with fear.

The voice merely chuckled, the sinister whisper of a blade pulled from its sheath. Winter is coming, it intoned. And the crown weighs heavy.

Ren spun in place, breaths coming sharp and cold biting at his lungs. The voice was crushing him from all sides, pushing him down to his hands and knees on the cold, stone altar.

Do ye have what it takes to be KING, Rendog?

And Ren woke in his royal bedchambers, gasping for air and sheets soaked in sweat. His hands didn’t stop shaking for the rest of the day.

-----

// I am just now getting into the 3rd life fandom (yes, a year late) and holy cow I love the Red King so much!! Big kudos to dog at the door by fluffy_papaya and iamsolarflare for getting me hooked on Ren’s lore, it’s one of my favorite fics ever. 

// For the voice, have you heard the voice of the Old God N’Zoth from the Warbringers short? Yeah, that but with a hint of Scottish accent. Very dark and powerful-sounding.

Deal? I like deals.... *eldritch laughter*

- N’Zoth the Corruptor

[h2obased]

Another Word For Surveillance - Part One

Summary: You asked Bucky out. He said no. Cool. So how do you move on from that? Ha! You don’t.

Notes/Warnings: Bucky x Reader | Fluff, swearing, innuendos, canon typical violence (a smidge), light angst, pining | I do not give permission for my work to be copied/reposted/translated anywhere. I only post stories here and on AO3.

Word Count: 2,369

Series Chapters

Another Word For Surveillance - Part One

It sounded like an accusation, the way your colleague said “Bucky Barnes likes you.”

“Of course he likes me, I do his paperwork.” The keyboard rattled as your fingers flew over the letters. Red squiggly lines scattered across the page with increasing frequency, but you refused to stop and edit typos. A pause was all your work wife needed to launch an interrogation.

You didn’t feel like elaborating on the topic because you knew for a fact he didn’t like you that way. You’d rather not get into how you found out about it either.

“Eh.” Claire Chavez could sniff out a story a mile away because she’s a great analyst. That and her four-year stint with you at the Department of Defense. No detail got past her and sitting at the cubicle next to you in the Operations wing gave her full access to everything happening at your workstation.

She looked pointedly at the unopened pack of Snickers bars and a roast beef sandwich from Bucky on your desk.

The Avengers visited your office area often for briefings with analysts like you. It’s not unusual for Clint Barton to nap on one of the empty chairs while waiting for his meeting or for Steve Rogers to return case files with his comments scribbled on post-its. Man loved his yellow post-its.

Bucky’s tall, imposing figure standing over your shoulder as you highlighted cells on a spreadsheet and explained why Tuesday noon was the best time to order a salmon sandwich from Vic’s Deli was a common sight. The super soldier worked in your unit for nine months.

That’s right, the dark-haired, unassuming guy who could take out 10 armed men in close combat with a hand tied behind his back was assigned a desk job following his return from Wakanda. He occupied the table by the window. Nobody wanted that corner spot because it received direct sunlight from 9 to 11am, effectively warming the area the entire day, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind.

You often saw him staring out at the sprawling field across Grid 3 in the Avengers compound. Each grid contained offices and other Stark Industries facilities. Most admin and support function offices were in the first two grids. Operations staff and R&D teams worked in the third and fourth grids respectively. The Avengers’ living quarters in Grid 5 sat at the farthest edge of the property to give occupants as much privacy as possible.

Bucky glared at the view outside your office building like he couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong with the grass. There was a meditative quality to his silent judgement of lawn maintenance. You quickly learned how to distinguish Bucky’s resting face from his actual “I’m surrounded by fools” face.

Although he had been cleared for field work more than a year ago, Bucky continued to visit the analysts in G3. A few times a month, you found him at his desk, which remained unoccupied since he vacated it. Sometimes he’s there to study reports away from Sam Wilson’s chattering. Other times, he was there to check in with your unit head. Your boss’ grandfather served during World War II; she had a lot of experience speaking with grumpy war vets and Bucky had a lot of experience with war.

He has this thing where he’s automatically nice to military families.

Nobody blinked when Bucky approached you about an op update today, but when he tossed Snickers to your desk, a discreet hush fell over the room. You didn’t have to look around to know everyone within 20 feet turned their attention to you. Analysts not minding their own business shouldn’t come as a surprise. You and your esteemed colleagues on this wing were employed to find, study, and interpret data after all.

“Sweets.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Regret consumed you instantly because why would you just assume he was talking to you?

Something whizzed past your nose and landed on your desk.

Bucky frowned. You hoped he didn't notice how fast you turned to him. Maybe he was just unhappy about nearly decapitating you. He reached out, deftly moving his hand above yours and repositioned the pack of chocolate so the front cover faced up. He pulled his arm back just as quickly as if your desk was on fire.

The analyst in you had long observed that Bucky wasn’t completely averse to human contact.

He enjoyed the solitude offered by his overheated corner desk, but he didn’t seem to mind when people lingered around his cubicle to look out the window. While he wasn’t much of a hugger or toucher, he’ll indulge Sam with the occasional high-five. Bucky and Steve Rogers put each other in a headlock on a weekly basis.

When the engineering lead fainted in the hall, Bucky caught her in his arms without hesitation. The entire floor wanted follow suit and swoon too.

After a facility-wide duck, cover, hold earthquake drill, he offered his hand to assist Claire off the floor. When it was your turn to scramble from under the table, Bucky rapped his Vibranium knuckles on your desk instead, urging you to hurry. What was the rush? He wanted to know if you had any Kit Kats left.

“Eat a banana,” you grumbled as you got on your feet without his help. “Take two,” you added when he only dubiously looked at the bowl of fruit by your desk monitor. You dusted your knees and watched him tear a banana from the cluster.

You thought he chuckled softly before he replied, “Yes boss.”

When it came to getting your attention, Bucky relied on office supplies. He rolled sheets of paper to nudge your arm or he tapped you on the shoulder with a folder. One time, he flicked a paperclip across the conference room table. It landed in your coffee, which made you yelp and interrupt Tony. Bucky raised his brows, a picture of innocence, while you pretended to have a question for the billionaire genius about jet propeller functions at high altitudes.

These were things that shouldn't occupy significant storage space in your head. Space you could use to remember decidedly more useful information like how to deal with a clogged sink or use a gun. You really should learn how to shoot or at least learn basic self-defense.

You eyed the Snickers pack, wondering how he knew you’d just run out of supply. “Thanks Sergeant Barnes, but you didn’t have to.”

His nose flared at the use of his military designation but he caught the slight tilt of your head, letting him know he had an audience. He sighed like a tired parent but the corner of his lip curled.

You ought to be suspicious, but the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't let you focus on a single train of thought.

“Fine but when you see the incident report, remember that’s what you said.” He jerked his head, tossing it back a few times to get rid of the stray locks stuck to his cheek.

As if on cue, a bell alerted you to a new email. “Do I want to read that?”

The gorgeous, steely-eyed super soldier shrugged. He wasn’t smiling but that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling smug about knowing something you didn’t.

It wasn’t fair, those eyes. That pouty mouth. The way his brows shot up when he talked about landscaping machinery.

You cleared your throat and it was not because you were about to read highlights from the email. “Let’s see here… Six-car pile up, seven if we count the truck that turned on its side, confirmed minor injuries, two GSWs, road damage. Public Works recommends closures… for at least three days, which means… one week? Geez Bucky.” You checked the location pinned on the report. “Oh and it’s just off the Alexander Hamilton Bridge. The city’s going to love that.”

You barely got past “six-car pile-up” when Bucky started talking too, with raised hands, his low voice weaving between your stress-induced higher pitch. “Look, the important detail, which I’m sure the report notes, is that we got the bad guys. Witnesses, all safe. Check the report; gotta be in there somewhere. We got the bad guys.”

He moved closer and an electric pulse ran up your spine. The only way to hide your reaction was to fake indignation over the report. “Bad guys.” You hummed and pretended to skim the email again. “I can confirm the report mentions ��bad guys’ a grand total of... zero times. I feel like we’ve had too many chats about why we don’t write 'bad guys’ in field reports.”

“You haven’t even read through the whole thing. And I stopped doing that because you asked me to.” Bucky crossed his arms. It was impossible to ignore how jacked he was, even under the hoodie and leather jacket.

You were done. So done. He could pass gas and you would giggle like a person with a crush, because, well that’s your affliction. A terrible case of having the hots for James Buchanan Barnes. You shouldn’t, but who gets to just pick who to like?

“I’m a fast reader.” Your ability to look him in the face and maintain motor functions was worthy of an Academy Award and an Olympic gold medal. Minimum.

He mistook your narrowed eyes for annoyance. “Fine, shall we call them unscrupulous businessmen in clear violation of Wakandan laws and at least two international treaties?”

“Alleged.”

He scoffed. “Please, not when I catch them red-handed.” He tried blowing the hair off his cheek this time. “Always making a run for it. Always get them in the end.”

People were used to the back and forth you’ve got going with Bucky. It was the only time they heard Bucky speak beyond what was required to communicate something.

You scrolled through paragraph after paragraph on your screen. “You couldn’t just ask them nicely to return whatever they stole? I’m going to be wading through this until after lunch.” The arms inventory alone had to be 20 pages.

Bucky had the decency to look sheepish. He nudged the Snickers pack closer to your hand before stepping away. You glanced just in time to spot it - the split-second rounding of his baby blues, conveying an apology for the hours it’ll take you to work through the case documentation.

He returned before noon with the sandwich.

“Do you want my lunch? I have to drive downtown with Sam and Steve.” He placed the take-out container on your desk without waiting for a reply.

Claire wasn’t even pretending to be busy. She spun in her seat to greet Bucky. “Hello again Barnes.”

You acted like you cannot see her watching you and Bucky, with a know-it-all smile and chin resting on her hand.

“Oh, um, thanks Bucky.” He just saved you a 30-minute trip to the cafeteria. “So what’s in the city today? Alien invasion? Unexplained noises at Bleecker Street?”

“Pizza. Crown Heights.” Bucky gave you a funny look, like aliens and sorcerers didn’t exist. He pointed to the sandwich. “It’s roast beef by the way, because it’s not Tuesday, I remembered. It’s from that deli with the angry old guy.”

He handed you an old man joke on a platter and you couldn’t resist. “You own a deli?” The quip stopped him at the door, where he glowered at you, but you could have sworn he broke into a smile before jogging down the hall.

As soon as he was out of earshot, and you hoped he was out of hearing range, Claire rushed to your desk to deliver her theory: “Bucky Barnes likes you.”

“Of course he likes me. I do his paperwork.” Your remark came quickly. Too quick for your own good. Your silence only encouraged your friend to proceed with her breakdown of the facts.

“Eh.” She dismissed the explanation. “He called you Sweets.”

Maybe Bucky meant the chocolate. Come on. You wanted to be cool about it, to not care, but the ambiguity bugged you. It banged on the door of possibilities and that’s a door that needed to be bolted shut for people dealing with unrequited feelings.

You shot your friend a look. “Chavez. He obviously meant the candy.”

“Oh honey.” She pitied you and she didn’t hide it. “We’re not going down the ‘just friends’ line. We’re friends and I don’t give you candy on a regular basis and the only snacks you ever send my way came from Barnes in the first place.”

“Girl, I wish. This is just bribery by junk food.” You waved your hands over the items on your desk and thought about last week’s Skittles from Bucky that Claire didn’t know about. Yet. “Trust me. Steve Rogers has more feelings for post-its than Bucky does for me.”

Claire didn’t look convinced, but it didn’t matter. It was the truth, one that chipped into your heart with every rare grin, or look of mock confusion whenever you asked him why heavy objects seemed to get lodged into concrete surfaces in operations he's assigned to. Or every time that blasted lock of hair refused to cooperate and cuddled his jaw line instead.

You could only guess why it’s called a crush - with all the heart-crumbling, stomach-lurching, and ego-shattering that came with it - and lordy, crushing on Bucky was a special kind of torture.

For the record, he wasn’t into you and that’s been made clear months ago. That’s not the sad part, not really, because people faced rejection all the time. You weren’t in a unique position.

Conventional wisdom said move on. The sting of liking someone who quite frankly only saw you as a friend would fade. Eventually it’d be a memory you’re supposed to be able to laugh at.

But for reasons that haven’t been made clear yet, this crush evolved into actual feelings, emotions bottled as you and Bucky went about your days, arguing about how many doors he and Steve kicked down that week and who ate the last chocolate bar hidden in one of the desk drawers.

Therein lies the soul wrecking and emotional torpedoing that came with falling in love with Bucky Barnes.

-----

I hope you liked the chapter. Thanks for taking time to check this out.

Part two

Find the other chapters here.

[barilleon]

Leon I haven't had friends who're super in to pokemon before, but I want to play in the Rockets Underground you're setting up in the shitpit. I've played through a few of the games before but not much outside of that, what would you recommend reading/watching/playing to get a better understanding?

OH MAN Dig are you ready for the Team Rocket Primer?

Games

Kanto - FireRed/LeafGreen has the most Team Rocket content, including a postgame encounter that leads directly into Gen II. If you don't want to deal with that, though, Let's Go Pikachu/Eevee is super fun too!

Johto - HeartGold/SoulSilver is the king here. It fleshes out the Rocket admins more. There was also a special cutscene that you could only experience if you had an event celebi that is important to watch.

Anime

Pokemon the First Movie - This movie fucking slaps, it's very important to the Pokemon canon. IMO the quintessential watchable Pokemon experience.

Pokemon Generations - This whole miniseries is on YouTube and is a game-accurate series. For maximum Team Rocket content, you'll want to watch The Chase, Lake of Rage, and The Legacy.

Pokemon Origins - This is a four-part miniseries about Red's journey. Episodes 3 and 4 are maximum Team Rocket, but episode 1 is great just because it includes the most traumatizing pokemon battle scene in canon. You can find it on Hulu or iTunes I think.

PokeAni - The anime canon (which is the same canon as the movie) is VERY different from the games canon, and Team Rocket's tone is totally silly. But two good episodes are 015 (Battle Aboard the St. Anne) and HS12 ("Training Daze"). Later seasons of the anime introduce more upper-level Rockets like Matori, but I really haven't watched a lot of it and couldn't give you episode recs.

Manga

Pokemon Special - This manga series spans every generation of Pokemon, and it's VERY good. Satoshi Tajiri once said that it's the media that matches the Pokemon world in his head. The Red/Blue/Yellow series is a must. The Gold/Silver/Crystal arc is great too, but goes WAY off the rails. The other Team Rocket arcs are the FireRed/LeafGreen arc (my favorite) and the HeartGold/SoulSilver arc.

There's some other manga too with Rocket content, but they're harder to find and it's been a while since I've read them, and they're also super fringe.

Musicals

I just like to remind people that Pokemon Live! the Musical exists. Giovanni is played by Darren Dunstan. And James is played by Andrew fucking Rannels. A lot of the songs are actually really fun, but the best one for the Rocket Primer is It Will All Be Mine.

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV 3: The L'Manburg Librarian

Got an ask requesting a dsmpsona, specifically from someone who wanted to see a part of this series with @thesmpisonfire and their dsmpsona. Luckily, I follow them, and so I'm well-prepared for this one. I took a bit of liberty with their canon deaths, so I hope that's all right. Mostly that they weren't blown up for the first one.

- - -

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

Everyone knew that the L'Manburg Revolution was a turning point for the server. It marked the first nation separate from the Admin's rule. The Revolution was a celebration when people reminisced in the streets of a freed L'Manburg.

Still, many people failed to remember that there had still been a war for that freedom.

Of course, those who fought in that war would never forget the blood that was shed, the lives that were lost for the sake of their freedom. Included in these numbers was the L'Manburg Librarian.

Also known as Des, the L'Manburg Librarian had been a part of the country since the beginning, joining the nation as soon as word of it reached their ears. Unlike some, the Librarian fought hard and true for the new country's independence, and when a sword was shoved through them as a splash potion of poison ate away at whatever was left of their life, they simply grinned and returned their enemy's blow with one of their own. Their dogs came to finish the job, and then sat with the Librarian as they sprawled back on the grass, watching the clouds pass by with the sun on their face and a smile on their lips until their body finally gave out and the server returned them to their bed, one life ticked off of their count.

The Librarian shuddered, steadied their trembling hands, grabbed their weapon, and sprinted back toward the battlefield.

When L'Manburg's independence was finally secured with VP Tommy's sacrifice of his discs, Des was sure that they cheered the loudest.

For a while, things were peaceful. Des was given confirmation to build a library up within the country, and people donated books or they would gather them themself, building up a collection that stretched to the ceiling.

When the Election arrived, the L'Manburg Librarian didn't care much for it until SWAG 2020's campaign was announced. Suddenly, then, there was weight to the election, and they weren't about to watch the country that they had died for go up in flames without them having a say in it. So, they listened to every debate there was, mulled over the campaigns and what each party promised. They were partial to Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit, of course. President Soot had led them in the revolution. He had build this country with his own two hands, surely he would know how to care for it.

Then, though, COCONUT 2020 announced their candidacy, with Fundy Soot and Niki Nihachu, who promised free cookies and ice cream for all should they be victorious, and Des abruptly knew exactly who they were voting for.

(And it wasn't President Soot.)

When the results came in, though, much to their chagrin, COCONUT 2020 hadn't won. In fact, they had been disqualified entirely for supposed hacking.

It was announced that POG 2020 had gotten the majority, and Des was satisfied, until the word 'coalition' left President Soot's mouth and everything seemed to come crashing down at once.

Des whirled around as ex-President Soot and ex-VP Tommy were forced to flee, the older giving one last shove to his right-hand man before falling to the ground. A moment later, Wilbur Soot disappeared, and a heavy feeling swept over the citizens of L'Manburg. The man who had built their country from the ground up, who had led them all to freedom, was now on his last life.

The L'Manburg Librarian swallowed, listened with clenched fists as the country that they had died for was renamed 'Manburg,' and then retreated to their library. At least they could find solace in their books.

Until, a week-and-a-half later, while Des was sorting their book collection on one of the lower shelves and stroking a cat at the same time, the door opened and in stepped President Schlatt.

"Mr. President," the L'Manburg Librarian said, inclining their head just a bit. After what had happened at the inauguration, they didn't really want to get on this guy's bad side.

"Librarian," Schlatt said, his voice hard. He took another step forward, and Des noticed then Secretary Underscore standing behind the president on one side. Vice President Quackity was nowhere to be seen.

"What can I help you with?"

"Cut the shit, already, I know what you are," Schlatt said, his voice dropping and eyes narrowing. The L'Manburg Librarian felt a pounding in their chest at his words, and leaned back despite the fact that he was not very close to them at all.

"What... What are you talking about?"

"You're a rebel," the president hissed.

"A what?"

"Oh, don't play dumb! You think I don't know what you're doing here in your little 'library,' spreading propaganda, telling lies to the people."

Des blinked. "These aren't lies, Mr. President. They're history books."

Eventually, it seemed as though as long as they stood their ground, they weren't getting banished anytime soon, which was nice.

(Their taxes were still increased, though, the same way that Niki Nihachu's were, and the L'Manburg Librarian didn't find that particularly fair in the slightest.)

Still, despite the whole thing with the taxes and constantly being accused of being a rebel (which Des totally would be, were they not so thoroughly entertained by the Manburg Cabinet), life in Manburg was all right. It was dreary, sure. Everyone seemed a bit downtrodden, everyone walked a bit quieter, their shoulders a bit more tense, but other than that, it was all right.

(The L'Manburg Librarian still cried when the flag went up in flames. They had been there when that flag was first hung. Now it was gone, like it had never even been there in the first place.)

(The number of visitors to their library increased after the burning for a few weeks, and the number of tears shed were enough that Des started just offering tissues at the door.)

(They understood, of course.)

(That was why they did what they did.)

After the execution of Secretary Underscore, one that the L'Manburg Librarian both hated to watch and couldn't look away from, jotting down every detail in a notebook before running as soon as Technoblade turned on the crowd, Des felt that there was more tension in the air than there had been before.

Then, one day, as they went for an evening walk through Manburg, they heard yelling coming from the White House. They ducked behind a pillar, and watched as Vice President Quackity jumped on the President and beat him to death.

"Holy fucking shit," Des breathed. Schlatt's body disappeared, Quackity fled from the scene, and the L'Manburg Librarian found themself a bit disappointed that most of the original Manburg Cabinet was gone. The drama would be drastically decreased, now, and that was one of the only reasons they stayed in this Prime-forsaken country to begin with.

During the war between Manburg and Pogtopia, Des joined up with the Pogtopia forces, if only because they had never been accused of being a rebel by having historically-accurate books when they were under the previous administration.

"Take that, Emperor Fuck-Face!" They exclaimed, laughing as they set fire to a Manburg flag.

"Language!" BadBoyHalo, the head of the Badlands, cried. The L'Manburg Librarian, fully done with everyone's shit and excited to have their country back, raised a middle finger to the sky and dashed back into battle.

They watched as TommyInnit passed the presidency to Wilbur Soot, who then passed it to Tubbo Underscore. Des grinned, wide and a bit manic, as the teenager gave a speech, promising to build the country back better, to heal from the wounds that the previous administration had caused.

Then, they all heard the hissing in the ground below them, and the crowd barely had a chance to run as the nation exploded around them.

The L'Manburg Librarian went at the Withers that Technoblade spawned with a ferocity that surprised both no one and everyone.

It didn't stop their library from being destroyed, though. Nor their house.

President Tubbo, though, gave them government-allocated funds to rebuild, and so they did. And maybe then some. Hey, if the government was paying for it, what was the harm?

Des grinned and wiped the sweat off their brow as they finally rebuilt their library in New L'Manburg. The first night, though, they dropped down the ladder from the second-floor to find someone sifting through their books.

"Uh, hello?"

The face turned to them, and it was that of President Soot. Who was dead. His body was grayed out, save for his bright-yellow sweater and the blue that was splattered across it, the same color leaking from his eyes, so dark that it was as if Des was looking into the void itself.

"Oh, hello!" President Soot said, with all the pep that he hadn't had in life. "What's your name?"

The Librarian was a bit taken aback. President Soot had always been rather supportive of the work that they did, collecting books and keeping tabs on the events that happened, so that future generations could read about the history of their nation. "Uh, I'm Des. Most people know me as the L'Manburg Librarian."

"Nice to meet you, Des the L'Manburg Librarian!" President Soot said. "I'm Ghostbur. You might have known me as Wilbur Soot, but I don't remember much about being Alivebur, so I couldn't really tell you anything."

"Oh. You're dead?"

"Yep!" And with that, the ghost went back to sorting through their books.

"Uh, sorry, the library is closed right now," Des said, moving forward to put a hand on the ghost's wrist. The skin was cold, and they were sure that if they put a bit more pressure, their hand would slide right through him.

"Oh, no, I'm just getting books to take back to my sewer!" Ghostbur said, as if his words weren't absolutely insane. "I'm making a library there. I want to collect all the books on the server, so that they're protected and the history can be read about for generations!"

The L'Manburg Librarian blinked. "There's no need for that. That's what I'm doing. I collect these books so that people can always learn about the country's history."

Ghostbur frowned, looking rather confused. "That's what I'm doing."

And so began one of the oddest competitions. Ghostbur would steal books from Des's library, Des would steal them right back. This went on for months until the day came that President Tubbo announced to the people of L'Manburg that their country had one day left to live.

"Technoblade, Dream, and Philza are all coming tomorrow to destroy our country," the teenage president said to the people gathered. "Get everything valuable, everything that you wouldn't want blown-up, all of your pets, all your friends and family, and evacuate. King Eret has graciously offered all of our people sanctuary. You may move everything to the land of the Greater SMP, where we have erected a temporary campsite for everyone to leave at." The president cleared his throat, and it hit the L'Manburg Librarian just how exhausted the teenager looked. "We are going to be trying to fight against them. Anyone who wishes to join us in the battle, may, but know that there are incredible risks. It is likely many of us will lose lives. We will do our best to keep our nation standing, strong and free." His words were broadcast through the communicators, and the whole of the country could hear them.

Des moved their pets to the Greater SMP that night, not wanting to take any risks. As they called their friends who lived in other nations to assist them in transporting the books from their library, Des did their best to reminisce on the good memories that they all had back before the L'Manburg elections.

"Des," their friends all said for what felt like the hundredth time, "We are not fighting for L'Manburg again. We have lost too much shit, and over half of us have lost a life, and we don't even live there anymore. That country is going to go down."

"Not if we fight for it!" The L'Manburg Librarian exclaimed. "Guys, c'mon! It stands for freedom! You remember how we fought for it in the Revolution! How we built it together!"

"Yeah," their friends said, deadpan. "And we died. Because of Dream. Who is coming with Technoblade, the Blood God, and Philza, the Angel of Death, to blow it down to bedrock."

"Whatever. I'm still going."

Their friends frowned. "Just... don't die, Des."

Des had never been the best at listening.

The next day, in the afternoon, with a grid of obsidian dropping TNT from the sky and more Withers than they could count soaring through the skies, the L'Manburg Librarian launched themself at Technoblade with a scream.

Before they could even reach him, a bomb from above fell on their head, exploding and launching them backward. Their ears ringing, spots dancing in their eyes, Des flew through the air, down, down, down into the crater below. They heard a crack through the ringing, and then everything was gone.

They sat up in their bed at the campsite once the server reclaimed their soul and brought them back, tears streaming down their face and hands shaking. They gasped on their breaths, and their face felt as if it was on fire. Their fingers ran over their skin and felt bumps, scars from the explosion that had rocketed them back into the crater. Des took a deep breath, dug their nails into their palms, grabbed their weapons, and set off back toward the battle.

When all was said and done, L'Manburg was gone. The nation that they had fought for, that twice they had died for, was nothing more than a hole in the ground. There was no rebuilding from this, and the L'Manburg Librarian knew this. They built up a cottage, technically on King Eret's land, moving their books and pets into the new home.

One day, about a week after Doomsday, they returned to the cottage to find King Eret there, standing outside of their door with one of his knights at his side.

"Hello," King Eret smiled, adjusting her sunglasses. "How are you, today?"

Des shrugged.

King Eret hummed. "Well," they said. "I was wondering what you were doing on my land?"

"I lived in L'Manburg," the Librarian said, their voice level, emotionless. They were rather drained. "Fought for it in the Revolution. Died for it. Twice. I... I didn't realize that this was your land. Sorry."

King Eret furrowed his eyebrows, face turning sympathetic. "I did many things to wrong L'Manburg," she said, hands moving to adjust her sunglasses. "Now, it's gone. The least I can do is help the people who used to live here." King Eret offered a soft smile. "Feel free to stay here as long as you like."

Des nodded, their throat a bit dry. King Eret inclined their head before turning to head up to the castle, the knight following close behind.

The Librarian stood there for a moment before pushing open the door to their cottage and stepping inside.

They adopted two more dogs, within the following few weeks, after seeing the animals on the street for a few days. Des focused in on caring for their pets, both old and new, helping both the animals and themself through the trauma that seemed to be a given with living on the Dream SMP server.

A bit after the destruction of L'Manburg, though, the Librarian was sitting in their home, stroking one of their dogs, when there was a sound from the other room, where their books were contained.

Des had learned to not take chances. They grabbed a splash potion of poison, one of harming, another of weakness, and their sword. The dogs followed them as they moved quietly toward the small library where their books were. They pushed open the door, saw someone standing in the shadows, hands reaching toward the books, and immediately threw all three potions.

The Librarian rushed in and slashed at the figure, who just barely managed to raise a shield and stop their blade.

"Leave," Des said. The dogs entered the room, flanking either side of them, growling at the intruder.

"I was hired to destroy everything that remains of L'Manburg," the figure said, and the Librarian recognized the voice as the mercenary, Punz.

"I don't care," they replied. "You are in my house, threatening my property."

The mercenary repeated what he had said.

"I am under the protection of King Eret," Des said, trying their luck at something that they weren't quite sure of the validity of. "And you are trespassing on their land. If you even touch these books, I will be forced to contact the authorities." The Librarian's hand tightened around the hilt of their sword. "And you best pray that they get here before I can finish with you."

Punz was still for a moment before slipping out the open window and disappearing. Des sighed, shoulders untensing just a bit, and they ran their fingers over the spines of their books before leading the dogs out of the room and closing the door.

The Librarian began to borrow money, after that, to build a new library, one with good security. King Eret allowed them to construct it next to the Museum, where the history of the server could all be in one place. In the process of borrowing the money, though, Des ended up accidentally falling into debt with Quackity, the old Vice President of L'Manburg and the current leader of Las Nevadas, a new power on the server.

"It's easy," Quackity said when he confronted them. "You owe me. You work for me, and that will repay your debt. If not, I might be forced to consider... other means."

The Librarian, though, knew what this man could do, and they nodded and took the job.

(Maybe, though, it was also because they wanted a purpose. They wanted something that made them feel the way they had when they lived in L'Manburg.

They wanted a nation that they could care about. They liked living on King Eret's land, but they didn't care about the Greater SMP. The library was still under construction, and would be for a while, especially in order to be secure enough to protect so much history. Des had nothing, at the moment.

And so, they moved their pets over to Las Nevadas in order to work off their debt.

And maybe they also did it because they wanted to start anew.

When they saw Wilbur Soot again, though, alive and well, with a shock of white in his hair, and when they saw Fundy Soot, walking at night in the woods with troubles on his lips and fear in his eyes, and when they saw Foolish, a god who helped others because he didn't want to face his own problems, and when they saw Charlie, a guy who definitely knew how to be a person, they realized something. This nation was for people who had nowhere else to go.

And now, with L'Manburg gone, with a library unfinished and land that wasn't even their own, Des the L'Manburg Librarian counted as just another person on the server with nothing left at all.)

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ ꜱɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ | 𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘺𝘶𝘶!! Head Canons

Here’s little salty dino boy~! I hope you guys enjoy these ones as well~! ;; I’m so happy you guys enjoy these, I’ve decided to lax on the writing to make it feel a bit more personalized, so I do hope you guys enjoy it still`!

» » Admin Ko

It’s during a routine grocery trip when you notice the new Gacha machine parked out near the entrance. You shrug it off at first, but as you’re leaving the store you note that it’s of your favorite anime Haikyuu!! 

Almost dropping your groceries, you rummage for the change before placing it in the machine. It’s relatively cheap, and besides how could you pass up something Haikyuu that was advertised to be absolutely adorable?

You think it’s going to look so off, but surprise surprise, you open the relatively large yellow capsule to see a little Tsuki staring at you. It’s practically identical to the Tsuki you see in the show and you can’t help but feel a surge of adorable love overwhelm you when you see the tiny shortcake that comes along with him. 

The sizing reminds you of that of the mummy from the anime How to Keep a Mummy, and honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s the perfect size, if only it was sitting then you could die happy. A little Tsuki just sitting in the palm of your hand, if only it was alive. Then that would be a story to tell...

You repackage the figure and safely tuck it into your bag before grabbing your groceries and began your journey home. It’s been a long day after all. 

When you arrive, you set your stuff into the kitchen, your bag seated on the counter before you leave briefly to grab a couple of items from your room. Though when you return, there’s a little figure seated at the corner of the counter. His face set into a little scowl after rummaging through the bags you left on the counter. 

“I thought you’d at least have something more edible than this.”

You stand there, dumbfounded as the little figure you had initially thought was just a figure.

“Oi, are you deaf?” 

Gulping, you hesitantly make your way over to the salty little boy and tentatively rub the top of his head with your finger. The blush that overtakes his face is well worth the little slap he gives your finger.

“Stop that!”

Eventually it sinks in that the figure you bought on a whim is actually alive; and from Tsukishima’s information, or rather assumption, all of the members from all the volleyball teams have been put in this world. Though there’s only one of each member. 

Those who are lucky end up with the real person, and in your case you had received the tall middle blocker of Karasuno.

He doesn’t even ask for your name after that. He just gives you this smug little look before he calls you by your name which literally surprises you before he literally gestures to your wallet.

“Mmmm I’m gonna call you shortcake though. I’m pretty sure I’m taller than you if I were in my actual form.”

A literal tease. And most definitely a clingy little salty dinosaur baby. He won’t admit it, but he likes to sit and play with your hair. He’s usually the one taking care of your and will walk around the table grabbing things before putting it in front of you.

The one time you bought him a strawberry shortcake he literally looked so happy you were going to combust at how cute he looked. So you always make a note to at least get him a slice every two weeks.

The one time you both realize he reverts to his real form once a month, is during a movie night. You left briefly to go to the bathroom, and when you returned he was sitting there, blanket having been thrown over himself before he just gives you a shy look. Though that doesn’t stop him from commenting on your height.

“Oh look, I am taller than you.”

“Shut up Tsuki!”

He takes full advantage of that once a month. To teasing you, diverting unwanted suitors from you, and his indulgence of his favorite food. 

Absolutely hates it when you want to dress him up. (But if you get him some dinosaur things he’ll ease up more)

Doesn’t really need to go everywhere with you, but he makes it a point to.

“You’re going to do something stupid without me by your side, so bring me along.”

Secretly loves to snuggle up to your neck. His favorite sleeping spot is the same as Hinata’s. The area between your ear and shoulder fits him almost perfectly. 

[canalstreetbaker]

Sixth World Storytime

Sit back kids, and get comfortable.  I’m going to tell you about Dozer.

Shadowrun, as most of you are aware, is a cyberpunk hypercapitalist dystopia which we’re slouching to even today, with a bevy of guns, cars, sweet-ass cybernetic implants, corporations larger than any country today with yearly profits in the trillions, and absolutely everything being for sale.  Food is mostly soy and corn reconstituted into a myriad of things and treated with a flavor faucet.  Surveillance is omnipresent but the analysis systems are so bad that those without ID numbers just kind of slide through the spaces between.  Those without System Identification Numbers - without SIN - do not exist.  This is good, and bad.  

Shadowrun also has magic.  And fantasy races.  Specifically it has Orks.  This is important, because Dozer is an Ork in a Human’s world.

(Below the cut we get a little nasty.  Disclaimer for the admins when they eventually fall upon this depravity - this is a fictional event in a fictional world based upon a tabletop roleplaying game.  Back the fuck off.)

In the Underground of Seattle rests a community of Trolls, Orks, and Dwarves no that’s all.  Until recently in 6W canon, the Underground was not recognized as an official District of the Seattle Metroplex - and the Orks liked that just fine.  The Trolls didn’t care much, since they tended to hang with the Orks or their own kind, shared Hurlg (a hyper-IPA with plenty of nutmeg and a caustic that could burn an Elf’s stomach to pieces) and plenty of meatlike substances at bars and restaurants that catered to them.  In short, the Ork Underground was its own little city, with businesses, religion, medicine, and police.

Dozer, an Ork, was a member of the Underground’s police force - the Skraacha. An Or’zet term meaning ‘Scorcher’, the Skraacha handled neighborhood watch, ne’er-do-well training into ‘functional’ members of society.  They kept the peace, supported metahuman rights rallies, beat the fuck out of the local neo-Nazi human supremacists in town (Humanis) and in their off time ran protection rackets and smuggled wepaons.  They loved young, angry Orks with a bone to pick and a chip on their shoulder.  Dozer fit in perfectly.

An aside, this is 5th Edition Shadowrun.  Dozer was built as a cybered ‘street samurai’ specializing in close-encounters of the murderous kind.  His muscles were cybernetic, he had a blade the length of his forearm concealed in his forearm, and he’d somehow begged, borrowed, and stole enough nuyen to install a bespoke Synaptic Booster, which - coupled with an Adrenaline Surge to make sure he always went first - ensured anyone who crossed his fist had a very bad day.  

By the time he retired (a wonderful story in itself, but not the focus of today), Dozer had about 350 karma, 4 Street Cred (after faking his death, a story I’ll tell later), 4 Notoriety, and managed to stay out of the Public Eye until the very end when he stole a nuclear submarine.  Again, a story I’ll tell later.

Dozer had quit the Skraacha after a terrible fight between a lieutenant of the group (Eybyu) and another pipe-thumping patrolman which left both patrolman and lieutenant dead, and Dozer in critical condition with massive damage to his face.  Upon recovery, he promptly quit the force and went into business for himself - running a food truck he’d bought with the “insurance money” that he called C2T Solutions.

(Because you can solve any problem with a Cyberspur 2 the Throat.)

You see, Dozer had also installed a Suprathyroid Gland, which is pretty much what it says on the tin - it’s a carefully engineered runaway growth problem which confers increased strength, speed, and toughness.  It also makes one the terror of buffets everywhere, and after Dozer had been thrown out of the fourth one he decided he was going to start cooking.  And if he was going to cook, then by Dunkelzahn he was going to make enough for everyone.  

Plus nobody looked at the cook unless he had a ponytail and a storied Naval career, so he could use it for information gathering.  Only...things didn’t go that way.

Dozer’s first use of the food truck was when he and a team of pipehitters was hired to cross off a list of names - with bonuses for those made to look like accidents.  There were six names on the list:

* A Federated-Boeing executive

* A Stuffer Shack employee

* An IT goon in a corporate enclave

* A retiree on the state dole

* A city employee with the Parks Department

* A ten-year-old trustafarian in a ritzy enclave

Dozer drew the short straw (or stole them while the rest of the crew argued) and took the city employee, the Stuffer Shack employee, and in a move that disgusted the rest of the team, the ten-year old. How can an Ork just cruelly kill a ten-year old kid?

With cupcakes, Dozer reasoned.  Kids love cupcakes.

In a stunningly macabre display of chemistry and culinary science, Dozer whipped up a pair of dark chocolate cupcakes one would expect to find at a boutique patisserie, both frosted with chocolate buttercream icing. Special icing.

Because icing doesn’t burn off the alcohol content of spiced rum - and Chloral Hydrate (Shadowrun’s version of Rophynol) has double potency when mixed with said rum.

Add in a gaily-wrapped box from an actual boutique patisserie with an Augmented Reality tag noting they were offering gift boxes as a ‘thank you’ to the community they served, and Dozer had created the perfect lure to ensnare anyone with a sweet tooth.  

Ten-year old Trudy stepped out of the schoolyard gate, savoring the fine Bellevue weather as she walked along the road towards home.  She didn’t *need* to walk, but it had been a nice day at school and Trudy felt even better about the day as she could remember the highest points of it while getting that last bit of exercise before the afternoon homework session began.

The sun was shining, the roads were quiet save the occasional yellow bus or GridGuided car taking her classmates to *their* homes.  Allison had suggested Trudy come over to her house for a group study session, but the last time that had happened Allison’s homework looked suspiciously similar (okay, they were exactly the same) as hers.  

“Afternoon, Ms. Appleton!”

The voice caused Trudy to turn and wave with a bright smile, her DocWagon bracelet jangling against her pale wrist.  Two Knight Errant patrol officers leaned against their car, waving back before scanning the area for potential suspects to question and search.  

“Good afternoon Officer Cortez!” she yelled.  “Hi Sergeant Weber!”

The two officers were well known in the neighborhood, and Trudy’s parents had noted with pride the discount they had received on their insurance premiums by agreeing to the surcharge for having physical patrols in the area during and after school hours.  Really, they had said, it was leaving nuyen on the table if they hadn’t, and having security services available during their 12-hour workdays meant they could put in the extra hours at the office but still sleep easy at night.

As she walked past manicured lawns, a smelly groundskeeper trimming hedges, and Augmented Reality picket fence property indicators to her own modest home, Trudy’s day got even better as she spied a specialty cardboard container from her favorite bakery on the doorstep.  She’d never thought that Le Petite Sweet would send a delivery, but someone must have really been thinking of her today to send over such a treat!  Trudy picked up the box before sending the unlock code to the house’s front door via her bedazzled trode patch on her temple - right where her Datajack would be, she thought.

The cool air of the perfectly-adjusted central heating and cooling system brushed against her face as Trudy stepped inside, her commlink downloading personal messages from the corporate grid once her PAN interfaced with the wider house network.  There were two more messages from Allison, one of which was a repeated offer for Trudy to come visit today and do homework, and a second one that her Nixdorf Sekretar agent indicated was a phishing attempt via a picture of a cat playing a piano.  Trudy thought the picture was funny, but not funny enough to allow Allison access to copy her homework directly. Besides, there were much more important things to consider.

Trudy set the box on the dining room table and opened her prize, finding a pair of chocolate cupcakes with a dark chocolate icing.  They smelled freshly baked and sweet - not as sweet as she liked, and without the chocolate sprinkles she always wanted when she would get her weekly treat at Le Petite.  In fact, they didn’t even look quite like the bakery’s signature cupcake - but her stomach growled in anticipation anyway, so she took a bite while going through her homework questions for the day.  The rich flavor of the chocolate was slightly offset by the spiciness in the icing.  Trudy was confused for a moment, then took another bite.  

There was rum in the icing.  Trudy knew because she had stolen a drink from her father’s liquor cabinet, and the dark liquid in the bottle tasted just like this.  The icing, however, was much better than that terrible alcohol.

In no time at all, the first cupcake was gone, and Trudy yawned while sending a message to the fridge unit to pour her a glass of milk.  She felt oh-so tired all of a sudden.  Maybe the nice groundskeeper opening the back door could help her get her milk.

Shaking his head, Dozer gently took poor Trudy upstairs to the bathtub, ran the water, and laid her inside.  He took the box and the detritus from the cupcake, and let himself out the door he entered.

The payment hit his account fifteen minutes later, as medical services screamed towards the house where a drowning had occurred.

There are, of course, several other stories I have involving Dozer and his food truck, Dozer and his old patrolman buddy Stamp, Dozer being thrown off a ten-story building and hitting the pool with nothing more than a bruise, Dozer inventing the term ‘dumptrucking’ as it refers to lateral strategy, and finally Dozer stealing a nuclear submarine and becoming a pirate king with a mage and a decker he’d run with on that last score.

But for today, we’ll leave it with poor Trudy.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk about how Dozer changed the outcome of a re-enactment of the historic Battle of Helm’s Deep.

[marvelrenn]

Civil War. Part one.

——

A/N: I’ve decided to open this blog up to the multi-universe thing!! I’ll probably just be writing stuff and characters I geek out over or requests. And I apologize for being slow with writing! I have finals all month and I’m crying rn. But other than that pls reblog, note, comment, give feedback, REBLOG, request and if anyone would like to join and become an admin here pls tell me!! I’m very lonely :’) but anyway pls enjoy!! One and remember in this mini or just regular series, you, the lovely reader is around 15-16 years old!!

Word count: 2279

Warnings: mild language if you want to call it that

——

The scene before you was tense. People you knew such as Mr. Stark, Mr. Rogers, Nat— plus people in suits you’ve never seen before? Who was the guy with the silver mask? Who was the guy with Cap’s shield? Why are we at an airport?

Your sister Wanda was positioned in a parking deck with Clinton and you were with Barnes and some bird dude named ‘Falcon’. Falcon’s name was really Sam, but you liked to annoy him and call him ‘bird dude’. Barnes turned you to before running, “(Y/N/N), you need to hide just for a bit.”

“Why?”

“Because it will help us out in a second, just watch what’s happening, come in when necessary.”

“Ugh, fine.” You heavy boots made a thud sound with each step you took backwards as you watched Bucky and Sam run off. In a second, someone in blue and red was across the window.

“What the hell is that?”

“Everyone’s got a gimmick now.” Sam’s voice was strained as they picked up their pace. The swinging body hit the window and broke through, taking down Sam and going for Bucky. He threw a punch and what seemed to be a spider themed guy? Caught the punch.

“You have a metal arm?! That is awesome, dude!” Before he finished his complained he was taken up by Sam with a grunt that left his chest.

“You have the right to remain silent!” The spider guy tried to push him off. Before casting something to the ceiling and slipping out of his reach. He swung around the ceiling, avoiding being shot by Sam. He landed on a beam and shot at Sam’s pack, disabling the wings. He went down into a kiosk before being stickied to a railing. The spider guy knocked Sam threw the railing and on to Bucky and his metal arm was stickied to the ground as well. You guessed that this seemed like a good time to come in. You came out from the divider you placed yourself behind and allowed the bright golden light to energize within your palms. Before the spider-ling knew was what going and he looked up at you and you tossed him out the window.

Bucky’s voice echoed through the spacious building, “You couldn’t have done that earlier, (Y/N/N)?”

“You know Buck, I hate you sometimes.” You chuckled at the sight of them stuck to the floor.

Meanwhile outside Mr. Stark was trying to slow down Wanda and Clint. Mr. Rogers was being attacked by a cat? And War Machine which wasn’t really a good thing. Another guy in a red suit and a silver mask handed something small and white to Cap. He threw it and the other guy threw something that had a blue shine to it at it. Out of nowhere, a large truck was heading toward Nat. When the truck hit the ground and exploded, Tony went to Nat’s aid and they spoke a few words.

Wanda and Clint arounded a few crates and and you, Bucky and Sam met up with them. Mr. Rogers came out in front but you all stopped in your tracks. A beam of yellow light cut through the concert. Vision was up in the air looking down at all of you.

“Captain Rogers.” Visions deep voice was loud enough for all of you to hear.

“Hi, Vision!” You waved to your red and blue friend.

“Hello, (Y/N).” He lightly smiled. He turned back to Captain.

“I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good you must surrender now.”

Iron man dropped in the cat dude and you didn’t notice Nat walk up. War Machine and the Spider-ling came up as well. You got a good look at him now and him at you. You marvelled at his vibrate suit and he scanned your body suit that was similar to Natasha’s.

Falcon spoke up, breaking your stare contest with the Spider-ling.

“What do we do, Cap?” Steve opened his mouth to respond, “We fight.”

“This is gonna end well.” Even from a distance you can hear the Black Widow’s sarcasm.

You looked over at the Spider and shrugged at him. You paced forward to him and he did the same. “Uh, she-- I mean they aren’t stopping?!” The Spider looked at Tony.

“Neither are we, and don’t be scared of (Y/N), she can’t do much.” he sniggered. You brought your hand up, the golden energy wrapped around your palm and Mr. Stark’s suit, You harshly slammed it against the tarmac. You heard a grunt and looked back at the Ling. He stopped and brought his hand to the back of his head. “Uh..”

You smiled a little and blushed, you didn’t want to hurt him but you had a job to do. You brought your hands up the same way your sister did and carefully placed him on top of a parked plane. Tony got back up and gave a blow to Mr. Rogers. You and your sister lifted yourselfs into the air, Clint shot at Vision and Sam was next to you. Nat went after the silver helmet dude and Bucky went for the cat guy. War Machine followed Sam, and the spider-ling was back jumping from truck to truck that you threw at him. You lost the focus around you and kept your sight on the Spider. He attached whatever he rope thing he had to tram and landed on it.

“Ah, dude! Is that coming out of your body? That’s gross!” the smile you had on your face says you didn’t really think it was that gross.

“Uh yeah, it’s kinda cool!” he shot at you, binding your hand to your leg. “Asshole!”

“Hey, watch your language!”

“Sorry, Mr. Rogers!” he just smiled at you. He swung his shield toward the kid and missed. The shield just came back to his arm.

“Wow! That thing just doesn’t obey the laws of physicals at all.” Ling shot what you now assumed was a web at Steve but it hit his shield, with his free hand, he shot more webbing at Steve’s legs, bringing him down and dragging him. Spider jumped off the tram and slide until the bottom of his boot connected with Captain’s face. He hit a crate behind him and hit the ground pretty hard. Steve got up and went for his shield but the kid webbed both his hands back and pulled. Quick thinking, you tossed the kid over Steve’s head and pushed him his metal plate. Spider-ling went back but was only hit in the face with the shield. Steve kicked him under the terminal and brought it down on him. All you could do is stand there and watch. Who was he? The kid catch the terminal above him, did he have super strength as well? Captain nodded at him, “You got heart, kid. Where you from?”

“Queens.” he grunted under the weight. You brought you hands up and lifted the terminal off of him. “Me, too.” You offered a kind smile. Steve took in your gaze at the spider kid and grinned. “Brooklyn.” Steve jogged off. You stepped forward and put your hands up. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I’m, (Y/N).” He walked closer and put his hand out. “Peter.” You could almost seem the toothy grin on his face under his mask as you took his hand. Through the mic in your ear you heard your team saying something about needing something big? “Well Peter, it seems I have to run.” You waved your hand as you walked off. “I almost forgot, do you have like, a superhero name?” Your lips curved into a smirk. “I do actually, it’s um, ‘Spider-Man’”. You tilted your head. “Cute.” You just chuckled. “My sister’s the ‘Scarlet Witch’, so that me the ‘Golden Witch’”. You held up your hand and laced the golden energy through your fingers. You turned your hand and curled your finger, making Peter’s chin lift up. You weren’t the one to flirt and now definitely didn’t seem like a good time to but, why not? You turned and jogged off to attend to whatever your team needed help with. He was dumbfounded. Peter followed after you and by the time you got into an open area, the silver helmet guy was huge.

“Holy, shit!” You and Peter yelled in unison. He plucked War Machine from the air and held onto him. He brought him back and threw him. Peter was already up on a plane wing ready to catch him.

“I got ‘em!” Peter flung back with the force of Rhodey’s body. So much was happening and it started to freak you out. The big guy was ripped off the wing of a plane, the cat guy you still didn’t know the name of, went after Mr. Rogers and Bucky. Mr. Stark was asking if anyone else had powers like that and you couldn’t find Wanda. Peter was hanging into the back of one of the iron suits and swinging around the really big dude.

“Hey! Big guy! Down here!” You waved your hands to get his attention. He looked down for a moment.

“What’s your name?” Your face scrunched from the bright sun.

“Oh, I’m Scott!” He went back to dealing with whatever people were on him.

“Cool! I’m (Y/N/N)! We haven’t met yet!” You decided to help him out and you brought Rhodey down to the ground. He pointed different guns and small missals at you. “Woah, I’m just a kid dude.” You put your hands up in defence, only to throw him hard against a vehicle.

“Who the hell brought another kid here!” He grunted and flew off after Steve and Bucky. You finally found your sister as she threw a truck at Rhodey. You looked over to Scott and noticed Peter climbing all over his helmet like a bug. Vision came and literally canon balled into Scott’s leg, pushing him back into a already destroyed plane. The cat guy and Vision both saw Bucky and Cap running to a jet to escape. Vision oddly flew through Scott.

“Something just flew in me!” You nervously chuckled taking off toward your team members. Vision used the stone in his forehead to cut through the control tower. Before it could fall in front of the jet, you caught it. The golden light visible under the rumble. They turned back to looked at you, you fell to your knees.

“Go!” You screamed as the weight started to become too much, too fast. From a distance, Peter starred in awe. Your strength amazed him. He watched Rhodey come behind you and give off a sound wave of some sort, causing your head to pound. You dropped the tower and brought your hands to your ears yelling out in pain. You turned back and in anger you took him and smashed him and his suit into the closest structure. He dug himself out of the dent and flew off, going for Scott. You watched as Peter wrapped Scott in webbing and fall to the ground after being hit by both Tony and Rhodey. Peter was slammed and hit the ground pretty hard. You got up as fast as you could, tripping after a few steps. Peter landed into a stack of wooden crates and rolled across the tarmac. You ran past Scott as he was asking for orange slices. Weird guy. You reached Peter and he was out cold, you kneeled down to wake him and he jumped at you touch.

“Hey, hey, guess who? It’s okay, you’re okay.”

You smiled down at him and he seemed to be relieved at the sight of you. “Oh, hey.” He let out a soft sigh and Tony came over to check on him. He saw you there and relaxed slightly. “He’s good, Mr. Stark.” You kept your eyes on Peter.

“Take him back to where you’re staying, you both were never here.” You wrapped Peter in a warm blanket of energy and carried him. It was a bit until Happy came and picked you both up. It was an even longer wait time till you got back to your hotel. Once back to your room, you looked him over. There were only a broken rib or two and bruising but nothing too bad. Happy was nice enough to give you money before so you could grab some sweats and a tee shirt for him before he came into the hotel. The second he hit the mattress, he was out.

You took that time to shower, change and check yourself over. You weren’t tossed around like everyone else. Just a few small cuts and bruises, nothing big or bad. Once you got settled, you looked over Peter once more. You brought your hands up and allowed the energy to flow from your palms down to his skin. This bruises lightened and you could feel the broken bones fusing. He tossed a bit and you stopped, he settled before you started again. You were sure he had accelerated healing but it was better if you just healed him.

By the time he woke up, you were sitting next to him with a box of pizza in front of you. You looked over to him, “Hungry?” He wipes his hand over his face trying to rid his feature of a dazed look. Peter just grunts in return, rolling over onto his face and sitting up. “How are you feeling, Spider-Boy?” You took a bite of your slice while looking at him. He just snickered at you and grabbed a piece.

[asteraes-aster]

Alright, I'll bite! Why'dya choose each pokemon? :) Really liking Kenny's boots btw. He's got good tastes.

I would die for you, god thank you so m u c h ('m glad ya like 'em! :D I based his outfit on my friend's zombie au a bit, just changed colors to make it more Pokemon-esque and friendly!)

OKAY SO!!! THIS IS ALL VERY BIASED DUE TO HEADCANONS! I WILL EXPALIN AS WELL AS I CAN!

Sewaddle

Sewaddles are known for bundling up and making their own clothes! There's just something about tiny baby sewaddle that reminds me of Kenny, hiding in his parka. I love it.

I also headcanon that Sewaddle tries to make Kenny a lil "parka" but fails epically because it doesn't know how to make clothes for humans (yet). Which leads to my third point!

Sewaddle are known for making their own clothes! Sewaddle could be very helpful for fixing old clothes when Kenny and Karen can't afford new clothes!

Litwick

Litwick are known for pretending to guide people while draining their life force. Which, Kenny is immortal. Litwick can endlessly leech off of him.

It's also said that litwick lead children into the afterlife... I like to think that this litwick started leeching off of Kenny for energy, because he's immortal and has plenty of "life" to spare. It started out as convenience, but after leading him by the hand towards his afterlife over and over again, it grew attached and protective.

Now it tries to guide Kenny safely through life, trying to help him stay safe, so that hopefully it won't have to take him to what lies beyond anymore.

Parasect

The poisonous spores it makes can be used for/in medicine. Health stuff just suits Kenny because Death, okay? Like, poison kills, yet in this instance can be used to heal, and I love that!

It's a fucking ZOMBIE! The original "bug" is dead, and entirely controlled by the mushroom on its back. It is dead. But alive... like Kenny.

No thoughts. Head empty.

Phantump

Now we get to the headcanon heavy stuff. Alright, some pokemon are actually humans who have died. Fun, right? Well, phantumps form when a spirit, more specifically a lost child who has died, possesses a rotten tree stump. Consider: a young Kenny gets lost in the woods, dies, and his spirit possesses a stump. He becomes a phantump, but at the same time he must come back to life, since being a ghost pokemon isn't exactly alive. So his soul splits, and a bit of him is still phantump. Is still that lost child who died in the woods and, scared of death, possessed the nearest object it could find.

Legend also says that by brewing their leaves and boiling down the liquid you can create a medicine that will cute anything! Do I like to think that this ability comes from/is enhanced by the fact part of Kenny's immortal soul is in the phantump? Maybe. Don't judge me.

Pumpkaboo

It's said that, much like litwick, pumpkaboo can lead people to the afterlife. I like to imagine that pumpkaboo and litwick do it together (or one at a time when it hurts too much).

Pumpkaboo, like phantump, are also formed by spirits trapped in this world! And Kenny's spirit goes many places, but sometimes it goes nowhere at all, and this leaves him vulnerable to pulls, like possessing objects (like many spirits seem to). I imagine this happens around middle school, so it's been a years since his spirit was last split. But again, he is brought back, and pumpkaboo is left in his wake.

Gengar

Gengars were also once human, and are rumored to take lives of humans to create companions since they're lonely!

This would definitely be when Kenny is in highschool, time for his spirit to heal and grow, and when he dies he is lonely and lost, trying to find companionship. His soul becomes warped, a shadow in itself, a playful smile in the night following potential "friends".

When he inevitably comes back, the gengar no longer seeks to kill for companionship, considering that Kenny would just come back anyways.

Honourable Mentions!

Color

I specifically chose orange and purple themed pokemon where I could! Orange because,,, well. And purple due to Mysterion! Phantump was more black then purple, and sewaddle more yellow than orange, but I'm kinda proud of how it turned out!

Types

I specifically chose pokemon that were ghost types and plant types! Ghost types because duh, Kenny dies, and plants because I felt they resembled life/growth. His pokemon represent him and that he comes back, in ever way!

Memories

Kenny's ghost pokemon can remember his deaths (or at least those that use to be Him). The rest of his don't remember, but they do have suspicions/get feelings.

Now here's Kenny wrapped up in clothes sewaddle made for him!

[yoonminficrec]

hey so I'm looking for a especific fic, I completely forgot the name and I was just getting started on it, it's canon yoonmin and it's divided in 2 parts the first one is shorter like 5=7k maybe the second part is longer, the first one is like the first time they have sex and stuff and he second I'm guessing is the development of that. If you don't know which fic I"m talking about could you rec me some nice canon fics?

maybe try the Head Over Feet series? otherwise, here are some good canon fics!

Look It Up

Deeply Addicted (to the Prison That is You)

Hello, I’m Min Yoongi, and I’m not desperately in love with you.

13 Iconic Yoonmin Moments

Yellow Chrysanthemum

pick me up

No Ordinary Life

-admin n