#i had a dream where i was a spy at a casino and that is what inspired this whole thing hksdjfds

[llamagoddessofficial]

Had my brain taken over by this scenario. Enjoy a snippet.

---

“Agent, are you in?”

“I’m in position.”

“Agent is in position. Everyone else, stand by.”

That was you. The ‘everyone else’ part- not the 'agent' part. About six other people were placed around the massive room in various spots. You didn't even know who the other people are, to preserve their safety. You glanced up from the bar, making sure not to look at the agent at the top casino table, instead admiring the very, very expensive casino you were in, the chandeliers and diamonds and saturated golden colour to everything. Your only job was to listen out for one of two codes. If you heard the first code, you were to make your way to the exit in your own time. If you heard the second code, you and the others were to get the agent out, and protect him with your life.

You were collateral.

... You had never seen such an expensive place. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the usual blaring lights and sounds were missing, this was far too refined an establishment. This was the kind of casino where the small blind would be the cost of a really nice house. You were sitting at the bar, wearing a dress and jewellery provided for you, ‘drinking’ (not really) an incredibly expensive martini paid for by the company card-  in any other circumstance, you probably wouldn’t even be allowed into this place. Perhaps as a dishwasher hidden away in the kitchens, if you were lucky.

You sipped the drink. You didn’t even know what the mission was, only the people vital to the mission knew what the mission was, to protect those involved. Honestly, you were just absorbing the glitz and glamour. A glimpse of a world you’d never be a part of. You had nothing to do except intervene if things went south. 

“Target has entered the room. Wait for him to sit at the table and place his bet. Eyes on the prize.”

...

“Hold on. Target passed the table. He...”

...

Your earpiece cut out. Weird. But that probably meant things were getting serious at the betting table, and the important stuff was happening. You weren’t privy to that.

A skeletal hand placed itself onto the bar, just next to you. The deepest voice you’d ever heard spoke.

“... this seat... taken, doll?”

You glanced up from your drink, and found yourself staring into the eyes of...

... the eyelight of Sans Serif.

Woah. Holy shit. You froze, for a second, pinned under that burning red eye... Sans Serif himself. That signature golden tooth. All but leaning over you, his physique was absolutely was towering, especially considering you were sitting. Didn’t his dad own the guy who ran this place? He was more physically intimidating up close than he was in pictures, with those massive shoulders and hands, that vicious skull crack only just hidden under his hat.

... But equally, he was a lot more handsome than photos gave him credit for. You hadn't expected that. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, he suited the perfectly tailored red and black suit made exactly to his massive measurements.

“Oh. Uhm... no, it’s fine, you can sit here.” You were nervous. This guy was a big fish, easily the biggest in the casino, one of the biggest in the world. Private jets and yachts, he played at the betting table with amounts of money you couldn't even imagine. He was born into more money than you could ever even comprehend.

He and his family could make you vanish. Not that he needed his family, though. One hand could snap your neck.

... He sat beside you. Your eyes darted up, making note of the two security guards who shuffled to either end of the bar. Suited just as well as him, in matching colours, sunglasses over their eyes and earbuds in their ears.

“... sorry, darlin’. don’t... mind them.” His voice was warm, rich, very soft. He spoke slowly, as if you were the only person in the room with him, but with a precision and deliberateness to his words that sounded like he had spent many hours practising speech. “can’t... go nowhere... without ‘em.”

Wow. He was talking to you. What was he doing? Was he just bored? There were other available seats at the bar, next to much more beautiful women. There were a lot of very beautiful women in this casino who would be delighted to keep the company of the Red Devil himself.

“... If I’m honest, I don’t think they’ll be doing much guarding.” You figured you’d just engage him like he was a normal person. Politely, of course- but no reason why not. 

“hm?” His huge eyelight was fuzzy at the edges.

You gave him a look. “I mean... they’re half your size. They look like your minibosses.”

He chuckled at that. It was a gentle and handsome sound, it eased you. You were still trying to grapple with the fact that Sans Serif was sitting beside you, talking to you. The two of you were from completely different universes.

He seemed so much less intimidating than people described, though. Weird.

The bartender slid Sans a drink without him even asking. It looked like an expensive whiskey, in an equally expensive crystal glass, with a single piece of ice.

“not... bettin’, tonight?” He spoke slowly, lifting the drink to his mouth. He had a golden ring on his index finger that probably cost more than your rent. What was he doing? Were... were you being flirted with by Sans Serif?

You giggled. “No, no, absolutely not. I’m terrible at cards, and dice, everything. Not a chance.”

He grinned. “s’... smart. seen... lotta suckers... lose everything, at those tables.”

He sounded so friendly. So nice. You were unwinding- it strangely so easy to forget who he was.

“Not like I have much money to lose anyway.”

“what brings you... to a casino, then?”

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really belong in this sort of place. My friends like the casino a lot more than I do.” You glanced away, again having to make a conscious effort to avoid looking at the agent. “But it seems like they’ve abandoned me.”

... He looked down at your untouched martini. “well. may i... keep you... company? doll?”

You nearly flushed. “Of course.”

His eyelight raked over you. His voice was so deep, so pleasant. “d'ya think... i could start... by gettin’ you a drink you like?”

Sans wanted to buy you a drink? You were... well. Honestly, you were flattered. But also a little embarrassed at being caught out with disliking your drink. You pushed the martini glass away from you.

“It’s that easy to tell I don’t like it?”

The corner of his working socket crinkled. “made... a funny face, when y’sipped it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle again. “I’m sorry. I try so hard to like martinis.”

His smile grew. “why?” 

“... They look so elegant. But...” you nearly cringed at yourself. “... I think they’re kinda nasty.”

He laughed. You felt proud of yourself for getting the sound out of him. You didn't notice the surprised look on his guards' faces.

He brought up his hand, resting his chin on it- why was he looking at you like that? Like you were the only person in the room? “what drinks do you like?”

“The ones that are more fruit juice than alcohol.”

“that... can be arranged.” He purred. “no one will judge. since you’re with me.”

... He was right. Nobody was going to pick you up on drinking something less fancy, when you were with the man himself.

“... I like a tequila sunrise.” You said, sheepishly.

He grinned, and looked to the bartender.

“two tequila sunrises, rob.”

---

Sans straightened his jacket as you walked away. Once you were out of sight, his head guard moved over to him, speaking with a low voice.

“Sir?”

“change... my dinner reservation... to two. i want her at my hotel. tonight.”

“Sir, you're aware that she’s...”

He cast his gaze to his guard. His eyelight, soft and warm with you, was now sharp and empty of feeling. “do i look stupid?”

The guard bowed his head in apology. “No, sir. I am just concerned about the Institute.”

He sneered. “they don’t... care. they’ll see that... i’m interested in her... and turn her into ‘bait’. they’ll put her... right in my lap.”

“Yes, sir.”

“make sure... the jet is fuelled. once we’re leaving... it’ll be fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

... Sans paused. He stared in the direction you had left in. His voice, this time, came out much gentler.

“... make the cabin fridge drinks... sweet.”

“Yes, sir.”

[kapyushonchan]

Plague Doctor Ch. 31 short summary

Since it's taking me longer to translate chapters due to busyness, I decided to post on tumblr short chapter retellings that I post on MGPD Discord when chapters come out.

The chapter starts with very... tired/drained Lera, who comes to Sergey's main apartment. Lera is covered in small cuts and bruises all over her body. She is also smoking. She admits that she failed the mission, that there is some f-ed up shit that is going on in the casino, and she ask a permission to enter. A bewildered Sergey agrees. Then he stops and waryly asks Lera how she knows his real address. Lera lifts up her face - her eyes are like a Fireworshipper's. She drops a cigarette and everything starts to burn. Sergey wakes up with a jolt, and thinks wtf is he dreaming about again. Then he turns to the left side of his king-sized bed and says, "Oleg, you-" But the left side of the bed is empty.

Oleg is caughing and playing some videogame (Baldur's gate?).Sergey comments that Oleg spent a day in the ice warehouses and didn't get sick, while here in the summer heat he caught a cold. Oleg reminds about his gift of a minuscule chance. Sergey changes the subject and asks if Oleg has cigarettes. Oleg shows him where to get some and then comments that Sergey doesn't smoke, so why would he need cigarettes. Sergey replies that he had a nightmare and now he wants to smoke. Oleg asks what he dreamed about and Sergey retells him his dream. Sergey finds the cigarettes, freezes, and then says in surprise "Why do I need cigarettes? What the hell."

As it turns out, the ending of last chapter where Lera infiltrates Mark's casino, inhales spores from his miracle tree and Mark catches her is my mistake, I confused the Triad spy - Wang Lin - with Lera. They have similar hairstyles. That's why Mark caught Wang Lin and not Lera. Meanwhile, Lera is at home reading a book on Slavic mythology, which Mark recommended to her, and thinks he pranked her. Apparently, it's a lot of nonsense. Then she notes that the wound on her knee went away quite quickly, but Fishkin's bite marks are not (I guess the events of the arc take place tightly after the special. During her fight with Fishking, who attacked people, she teamed up with Mir and Aisa to beat him, but he bit her quite hard). Lera has also taken in Chrysalis's cat for foster care while he is at sea. She gets a call from Toma. Toma tells her that he doesn't know who sent her the anonymous letter asking the Plague Doctor to help catch Fishkin (which caused the Plague Doctor to later be blamed for Fishkin's kidnapping, though he simply escaped), and Chrysalis wonders how his cat is doing.

Meanwhile, we are shown what became of Wang Lin after he was caught by Mark. As it turns out, his hallucinations didn't stop, it was just a way to show what was really going on. Mark orders the unconscious Wang Lin to be thrown out. Wang Lin ends up simply going insane and is found by the Triad men and brought back to headquarters. Liu Shengli is very concerned and tries to bring him to his senses. Mrs. Mei is not happy with their failure, beats up Shengli and kills Wang Lin. She then demands that Shengli tell Mark that the Triad demands a fight. Shengli is shoked and broken by his friend's death.

Meanwhile, Mark is examining his man which is blind in one eye and Mark is unable to cure him. To be more precise: his subordinate was walking around with a prosthetic eye. Mark grew an eye for him, but the eye of his subordinate can't see anything. It's strongly implied here that Mark is the one who adopts other people's wounds and then heals them. He also comments to himself that "My father's land was never my own and gave me almost no power. Only wasted my strength." I assume he is half Mexican, his father is from Russia.

Mark shoos his subordinate out and Shengli walks up to him unnoticed. Mark is caught off guard and asks how he got in in the first place. Shengli says that Mark's men searched him and let him in. Mark wonders to himself how he's even still alive with such guards and scoffs at Shengli's words that he's unarmed and defenseless, saying Shengli is a fighter, his body a weapon in itself. Shengli recommends hiring Chinese bodyguards, who are rigorously screened. Mark scoffs, saying, "Did you come for job interview?"

Meanwhile, Lera, in an airy pink dress, approaches the casino and notices Shengli's security guards. Sergey notes that they don't look like building security, just some strange asian dudes. Lera walks up to the entrance and they start harassing her. As soon as one of them grabs her, he gets kicked in the stomach. A brawl ensues and Lera trashes them like puppies. Meanwhile, Shengli sends Mark a Triad message: confrontation. Until the group is destroyed. Mark assigns a location for a showdown - Shuvalov Forest. Mark's man runs in and says there's a fight with the Chinese at the entrance. Mark is unhappy that Shengli told him that he came alone. Mark sees Shengli's beaten guards at the entrance and jokes that Chinese guards are also made in China. Shanley gets angry at thst remark. Seeing Lera, Mark perks up, transforms, and expresses how happy he is to see her again. Lera is surprised that Mark is the owner of the casino, and Sergey remarks snidely that Lera has interesting acquaintances.

Mark is so happy to see Lera that when he learns that she has come looking for a job, he almost offers her the position of head of security. Sergey jokes that Lera should be more careful - "don't overdo yourself trying to get a job, ma chérie, or you'll end up getting a maternity leave".

Shengli also starts apologizing to Lera on behalf of his guards, saying that the order was not to let anyone in, to which Lera replied, "Taking a woman away against her will is also an order?". Shengli apologizes for that as well. Lera notes to herself that Shengli looks somehow doomed. Mark is irritated that Shengli has gotten Lera's attention.

Shengli and Mark start bickering with each other, which does not escape the attention of Lera and Sergey - they realize that before them are competitors at knifepoint. Shengli finds it suspicious that a professional fighter shows up on Mark's doorstep and Mark doesn't care, but decides not to dwell on it. Shengli leaves and reminds Mark about meeting "in Shuvalovsky". Sergey is pleased, he is going to search in where exactly they're going to have their showdown. Mark apologizes to Lera for the scene and escorts her inside. Sergey turns off the microphone just in case, since he's been joking constantly and is afraid that Mark will notice the wiretap.

Lera sees the strange tree with flowers and mushrooms that Mark planted in the hall and says that it is beautiful. Sergey notes that the orphanage didn't have this tree before. Mark says that the St. Petersburg climate is too cold for him, but this tree has taken root here - although that didn't happen even at his home. Anyway, this place where his tree took root is his reason for staying in the city. Lera clarifies whether Mark is a gardener or a landscaper. Mark jokes that he's a magician. This is when they are rudely interrupted by new visitors. Lera is shocked and horrified, Sergey is shocked and horrified, and tells Lera that they'd better shoot the building plan some other time, because Altan Dagbaev and Vadim themselves have come to Mark's casino. As it turns out, Mark had an appointment with them (but he was too happy to see Lera and forgot. Or he just doesn't care, lmao).

That's it folks.

[dream-meister-translations]

MAIN STORY : CHAPTER 3 PART 6

━

?? : Don't move. ??: What a little daredevil to turn around. Did you not hear my warning? EMMA : Mr. Camus!? CAMUS : What are you doing in here? EMMA : I'm so sorry! I was following after Seven and then…I accidently found this room… CAMUS : And what are these mysterious creatures with you, hm? You're not very convincing. NAVI : Hey~ What's in these stinky bags? Is it fish?

MATEO : Where is Sion? EVAN : I've never seen a weapon like this…Hmm, so cleverly sculpted. HIMMEL : Ah, this plant emits such a strong fragrance. The color of the petals represents a harbinger of devastation. EMMA : (The black fairies are ignoring Camus and ransacking the place!) CAMUS : The items you see here are the offerings of the Bloody Lady, the owner of my casino. We don't want it touched. If it gets damaged before it gets into Mam's hands, there will be consequences. EMMA : Mam? You mean… CAMUS : ……..? EMMA : (I thought that Camus had left the Bloody Lady…) EMMA : So you are a member of the Bloody Lady after all? CAMUS : …………. CAMUS : Hm…It would appear that you are not a spy. EMMA : (A spy? What does he mean by that?) CAMUS : Still, I can't just let you and those creatures rifle through such precious cargo. What is that creature? And what are you doing in my casino? EMMA : (Camus really doesn't know about the black fairies?) NAVI : Ha, ha, ha, ha! What are you gonna do, master? Should I attack? EMMA : Wait, Navi. EMMA : (I want to avoid violence if possible.)

━

CAMUS : Are you saying that you are chasing an organization that uses these…black fairies, as weapons? EMMA : Yes. We came here because we heard about a special gun they were carrying. Apparently this gun was being distrubted through channels controlled by the Bloody Lady. So we assumed the Bloody Lady is part of the organization we are chasing. There is a chance that they are using these guns to destroy dreams. So, we went undercover. CAMUS : So, they are using these black fairies to incite negative emotions in humans and make them run amok, is that correct? EMMA : Yes. And we are trying to stop it. CAMUS : ……… EMMA : Camus? EMMA : (He seems to be thinking hard on something…Maybe this is a good time to escape?)

NAVI : …….. Navi and I exchange a glance, but just as I was about to make my escape… CAMUS : I told you not to move. Camus pointed the barrel of the gun directly at my head. CAMUS : I understand the situation. But, I still can't let you go. It is best to eliminate even the smallest spark right now. Lest we start a fire. NAVI : Master? Shouldn't we go? EVAN : You're going to die, you fool. HIMMEL : My lord, please command me to destroy this man. CAMUS : I know firsthand what happens to those who thoughtlessly meddle in the underworld. You shall learn that yourself. NAVI : Master, c'mon! CAMUS : I propose a deal.

━

MAN IN BLACK 1 : This is the place. KAI : …… KINGSLEYS' MAN 1 : Uuuuuuuurgh! My chest is killing me! MAN IN BLACK 1 : These are the men who inhaled the black powder. NOAH : Four…No…Five guys…Terrible. ITSUKI : Where is this black powder? MAN IN BLACK 2 : The Bloody Lady took all of the bags. We're seriously fucked, man. KINGSLEYS' MAN 1 : Arggggh! Stop! That hurts! KAI : Hey, calm down. Breathe. Jeez…Your skin is so pale… ITSUKI : I've seen this condition before…

*FLASHBACK*

MAN IN STREET 2 : What the hell!? Suddenly my chest hurts! Arrrrgh! MAN IN STREET 1 : I can't breathe! Why am I crying! *END FLASHBACK* CROW : Emma! EMMA : Hey you guys! What's going on? ITSUKI : The black fairies' noxious gas did this to these guys. NOAH : So that's what the black powder is… CROW : …….. ITSUKI : Crow? KINGSLEYS' MAN 1 : ……….. CROW : It's gonna be okay…Just stay with me…. ITSUKI : …….. MAN IN BLACK 3 : Damn it! Those assholes did this to our guys! What the hell is the Bloody Lady up to!? NOAH : ……..?

[amaranthkick]

Spy Games Ch 3

(ao3)

 Lance drummed his fingers on a table, wondering what to do. He sighed sadly, he really wanted to meet that awesome stranger again. But Lance didn’t catch the stranger’s name before Lance had to go or any way to contact him for that matter.

 He thought they really hit it off. The stranger seemed a bit nervous but was happy listening to him.

 Maybe if they got to know each other more, they could become closer and… Lance sighed dreamily as he imagined the stranger dipping him for a kiss with those strong arms.

 Lance shook his head, staying on his butt daydreaming wasn’t going to help him find the stranger. He could try staking out at the bench where they met. That was as good a plan as any.

 He could practically hear Hunk saying, “You know there’s a very low chance you’d meet like that, right?” He knew the odds were against him but he could dream, right?

---

 Shiro stared intently at the map as if it would reveal all its secrets. They caught wind of the Galra storing weapons somewhere in the city. If they could just find it before the weapons were distributed, that would hurt the Galra’s firepower.

 He heard Allura sigh as well, having as much luck as he was.

 They needed some stroke of luck to find these weapons… luck?

 Shiro instantly thought of the informant who led them to the Galra Casino. When he asked his team about him, strangely Keith and Allura grimaced. The informant was not what he was expecting but was otherwise a pleasant guy.

 Coran did explain though, “Let’s just say it’s a case of clashing personalities. They just need some time to mesh together like his two uncles! They were ready to tear each other’s mustaches off but with a life-changing no, hair-raising time in the jungle…”

 Shiro kinda blanked out at Corans long yet outlandish tales.

 “...then they returned with one eyebrow burned off but were thick as thieves. Now what were we talking about? Oh, yes! The informant had to uh, lay low for a bit after the raid on the casino. He did give us that info, right?”

 Shiro nodded. It had to be done but it still didn’t sit well with him to have inconvenienced a good, potential ally.

 “I did ask him about our current target and if he found anything he’d meet you at the previous spot.”

 Shiro decided to take a chance hoping he gathered some kind of lead by now. And even if he didn’t, it would be a nice change of pace from staring uselessly at a map.

 —

 Lance waited for a while, keeping a lookout for the stranger. He imagined different scenarios for people passing by.

 He got more disheartened the longer he was there. But he shook his head to shake off that feeling. It was just one day.

 Lance took out a flier someone handed to him on his way to the park. There was a concert tonight. It could be a nice distraction, too bad he was going to be busy helping Hunk with the dinner rush.

 —

 He’s there!  Shiro spotted the intel agent sitting where they met.

 Shiro greeted him, he looked up from a piece of paper and seemed pretty excited to see him. Did he find the information they needed?

 They finally introduced themselves, so Lance was his name, huh? It suited him.

 “I was waiting for you! Glad we thought of meeting at this spot. How were you?”

 Was this to keep appearances? Shiro nodded. He understood what he was getting at, never knew who was listening. But still… It’s been hectic with their current mission. It felt nice for someone to ask how he was doing that he let slip how he was feeling.

 “Stressful day at work, the usual.”

 “I feel that. Oh, how about this? Could be a good distraction if you’re not busy tonight.” Lance gave the paper he was holding. It was a flier to a concert, perhaps a hint for his mission?

 —

 They exchanged goodbyes and Lance waved him off as he left. Lance had a hop in his step, he couldn’t wait to tell Hunk who he happened to come across. So much to tell, their established special spot in the park, stories they exchanged, Shiro’s interest in the concert flier he handed him.

 Hmm, did Shiro like that band? Lance sighed sadly, he couldn’t join but if Shiro enjoyed it then Lance was happy.

 —

 The dark night was filled with bright, colorful lights and loud music.

 Shiro was perched on the roof of a building a few blocks away from the concert looking at the concert through binoculars.

 He scanned the surrounding area, searching for anything out of the ordinary. A glint caught his eye.

 He focused on workers loading crates into a truck at a warehouse near the concert. A crate had accidentally been dropped, there were people getting yelled at for it. But the important part was the Galra weapons that spilled out of the crate.

 This was it!

 Lance was right! The concert was a distraction. The noise and lights would draw attention away from trucks. He had to inform Allura and Pidge quickly.

---

 Pidge flatly stared at Shiro having a conversation with Coran and Allura. They were tasked with subtly getting more info out of Shiro about this… Lance. Shiro still seemed to be singing his praises.

 Shiro had beamed about their informant, how hard he must have worked to track down the Galra weapons. Shiro was grateful Lance got the info in time to stop them.

 While it was thanks to him they were able to stop weapons distribution, the problem was they had no informant named Lance. Who was he? Was that even his real name?

 The worst case scenario would be that he’s a Galra agent. But he has been giving scary accurate tips that did help strike a blow to the Galra. The Galra always seemed surprised when they got the jump on them. It didn’t make sense.

Allura swapped with Keith so he could keep Shiro busy and she could tell Pidge more about this informant. Pidge searched for any matches of 'Lance's and comparing them to any camera feeds around the park. There was one that matched Allura's info but... there wasn't anything suspicious about him.

 There’s no way he could be just some average civilian that sent Shiro to the right places by pure luck, right? What are the chances of that?

[redrobbingabank]

Allegiances

Quackity wanted spruce wood for Las Nevadas. He’d asked Purpled to go and get it. It would have been much simpler, Purpled thought, if he’d let him get the spruce right next to the city.

When he’d asked why Quackity blocked his way, he’d simply given him some crap about “already taken”, and “rival businesses”. So Purpled had ventured off the main path of the Nether Hub and walked to the Arctic Empire, where he’d heard of a massive forest springing up.

It would give him a chance to check on Techno, too. Purpled dragged the blade of his axe along the trees as he walked, gazing up at the pine needles above him. They hadn’t talked much during the Eggpire job, but the words they had exchanged had given Purpled a high opinion of the warrior. He’d been curious if Quackity had invited him to join Las Nevadas.

Dogchamp at his side, Purpled stopped at the tree line and watched the two houses for a moment. Smoke rose from one of the chimneys. Maybe Techno had gone back into hibernation like he’d said. 

Purpled shrugged to himself and stepped out into the clearing. No one stopped him. He ascended the steps and stopped to put his axe away before knocking on the door of the house with smoke coming out.

It flew open almost before he touched the wood. “Techno?”

Purpled blinked. Philza was in front of him, looking like a mess and completely normal all at once.

His bucket hat was missing, and his eyes were full of worry. When he registered Purpled standing in front of him, he deflated. “Oh. What do you want, Purpled?”

“Um, hi.” Purpled fiddled with the string of his hoodie nervously. “I was actually, uh, looking for Techno.”

“What?” Phil stepped back from the door a little. Purpled glanced into his house. The place was organized, except for a mess of papers on the desk. “What do you want with Techno?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well, I don’t know if you heard, but Techno and I kinda owned the Eggpire with Quackity a few weeks ago,” Purpled said. “We hung out, I wanted to see how he was doing.” 

He was about to mention Las Nevadas, but Phil held up a hand. “Quackity?” His eyes hardened.

“Yeah, he’s the one who got us to come deal with the egg,” Purpled said. He stuck his hands in his pockets, glancing around nervously. Mercenary he might be, but he would be no match for Philza Minecraft. “Why?”

“That absolute piece of shit,” Phil growled. Purpled got the distinct feeling that he was talking to himself. “Only Quackity would have the fucking nerve to pull that shit.”

“Am I missing something?” Purpled laughed awkwardly. He himself didn’t like Quackity. He was never going to forgive him for destroying his UFO, but he’d come to appreciate the man’s drive. It wasn’t like, he’d say. More of a grudging respect. And, try as he might, he hadn’t been able to discern anything shady about Las Nevadas.

Phil looked at him incredulously. “What rock have you been living under?”

A casino shaped one, Purpled thought, but he just shrugged.

“Quackity,” Phil seethed, “locked Techno up in the prison.”

For a second, Purpled was frozen in a shocked silence. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“The son of a bitch trapped him in the prison with Dream.” Phil’s grip was so tight on the door that Purpled worried it would splinter. “He gave him a bullshit note and said Dream wrote it, and Techno fucking agreed. He agreed. And it’s been days. He fucking knew it was a trap. He gave me his damn will! And now I’ve got to get him out of the most fucking secure building on the server!” Phil dragged a hand down his face. “So that’s what’s happening, Purpled.”

Fuck. Anger filled Purpled before he realized what he was feeling. It was one thing to blow up a recluse’s home and offer him a chance at legacy in return. It was another to lock up the fiercest warrior, who’d fought beside him in good faith, with the server’s resident psychopath. 

“I see,” he said. His voice had gone cold and blank. “Thanks for telling me this, Phil. I’m gonna be back later, alright?” He took a step away from the door and paused. “Actually, could you watch Dogchamp for like an hour? I’ll be back really fast.”

Phil frowned, taken aback. “Um, sure, Purpled.”

“Great. Thanks.” Purpled shoved Dogchamp’s leash into Phil’s hand and rushed back to the Nether portal. He summoned his sword into his hand, glowering as he came out again in Las Nevadas.

“Hey! Yo, slimy boy!” he yelled. Quackity’s assistant-slash-spy-slash-adopted-kid was always hanging around Las Nevadas when Quackity was away on business.

“Hello, Purpled from UFO!” Slime dropped from somewhere above and landed in the water fountain. He scrambled out to stand in front of Purpled, beaming. Slime dripped from the tips of his fingers and his chin.

“Did you know about this, huh?” Purpled asked, holding up his sword. “Did you know about Techno?”

“What’s a Techno?” Slime asked.

Frustration overwhelmed him. He shoved Slime hard in the shoulder, his hand coming away sticky. Slime’s upper body bent back, but his feet stayed stuck firmly to the ground. “Technoblade! The anarchist!”

“Dap me up!” Slime said. He reached to nudge Purpled back, but he dodged.

“No! Stop it! Just… do you know who Technoblade is?” Purpled asked angrily.

“Um…” Slime looked around the room with large movements of his head. His glasses were stuck to his face. “The angry sword dude?”

“Fine! Fine.” Purpled pinched the bridge of his nose. “The angry sword dude. Did he seem like a chill guy to you?”

“Well, he was angry, so…” 

“Right, yeah, of course,” Purpled said. He dragged a hand down his face. “Well, I happen to be friends with Technoblade, and he actually is a really good dude. He helped us fight the Egg? You know the Egg?” he asked when Slime’s eyes widened. Slime nodded. “Great, yeah the Egg’s really fucking bad, right? Techno helped us beat it. Techno’s a cool dude.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Slime said. “Quackity from Las Nevadas said that Techno’s a bad person.”

“Well, Quackity fucking locked Techno in a prison with Dream!” Purpled yelled. “Don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

Slime paused. For a second, Purpled almost thought that he actually had. “Nope!” Slime chirped.

“Oh my ––” Purpled threw his hands up. “No. Whatever. Bye, Slime.”

“What slime? I’m meat, bones, see?” Slime pulled out a femur from his pocket. Purpled didn’t respond. He turned and re-entered the Nether, heading for Phil’s.

Slime took too long to figure things out. He knew this. He didn’t have time to make him understand. Purpled didn’t even care about getting him on his side. He wasn’t attached to him at all. Slime had yet to show the charm that Quackity had said he had. He ––

Was following behind him.

“Slime!” Purpled whirled around, brandishing his sword, and Slime froze. The heat was doing something to him. It looked like he was losing water, dehydrating. He was turning a steadily lighter shade of green. For a minute Purpled forgot about telling him off. “You can’t be in here!” he hissed, hurrying him back through the portal. “Get into the fountain!”

“Okay!” Slime started returning to his normal state moments after stepping into the water. 

“Now stay there. The Nether. Will. Kill. You.” Purpled watched carefully, hoping for some sign of comprehension from Slime. As usual, there was nothing behind his eyes. “Alright. I’m gonna go. Do not follow me. The Nether will make you die, man, and that’ll piss off Quackity, alright?”

“Alright!” Slime said.

“Alright.” Purpled backed away, watching to make sure Slime stayed in the fountain. He didn’t follow him again, but he waved enthusiastically.

Purpled dashed back through the Nether and through the Arctic Empire’s portal. He knocked at Phil’s door again.

“What?” Phil asked, stopping when he saw Purpled in full armor. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna help you break Techno out,” Purpled said.

[thornztli]

i've been thinking about this since bbh's stream where he killed skeppy and i think i know what happened at the end

i’ve mentioned this to a few friends but never actually posted it so here

so if you didn't already know, skeppy's and bbh's canon lives are intertwined. they're soulmates. bbh cannot lose a canon life until skeppy has lost all of his. he's basically immortal unless skeppy canonically dies, which is what has made the egg shit so annoying. nobody can kill bbh. and as we know, at the end of the stream, bbh accidentally pushed skeppy into lava and skeppy refused to get out, so skeppy lost a canon life.

a lot of people thought that this was some sort of weird dream or hallucination but i’m inclined to believe that it’s real life.

so if you remember back when skeppy first became infected, ant and puffy had suggested that bbh kill skeppy to try to get rid of the egg infection since nothing else seemed to be working. not holy water, not sand, or diamond, or the number 14, nothing. bbh refused, and puffy almost killed skeppy, but skeppy just kept running away, and they gave up. however now that skeppy has actually canonically died, i'm thinking that ant's and puffy's theory was right.

at the very end of the stream, you see skeppy in his house in big daddy island, which he and bad built together on skeppy's stream. it was non-canonical and just a place for them to mess around and hang out. you see him calling for bad, and he's blue and normal again.

my theory is that ant and puffy were right. when skeppy died, it got rid of the egg infection. remember how skeppy wasn’t at the red banquet? if he was still infected by the egg, even if he had died, wouldn’t he have been there to see such a major event for the egg? and remember that skeppy’s spawn was set to big daddy island at the time as well. it makes total sense for skeppy to be normal again, just stuck at big daddy island, far away.

(for the record, skeppy didnt know tommy and wilbur were doing lore when he accidentally killed friend and i don’t think it should be counted as an important plot point for skeppy’s character)

nonetheless, skeppy’s death leads me to believe the egg arc is probably coming to a close soon. remember that bbh's entire motivation for joining the egg is that he didn't know how to cope with the loss of skeppy. skeppy got infected by sacrificing himself to save bad first, and his sacrifice was eventually, a sacrifice in vain, as bbh got so depressed about skeppy that he joined the egg in order to be with skeppy again. but we saw how bbh was acting there. skeppy still didn't want him, infected or not. and so, bbh just kept losing faith in the egg. he was promised skeppy, and he got nothing. he was constantly telling the egg to shut up, to be quiet, and only apologizing when skeppy told him to. now that skeppy's okay, bbh's entire motivation for being with the egg is gone. i think bbh might either a.) gamble away a canon life at quackity's casino to break free from the egg, b.) go back to the original plan with the egg, which was to destroy it to become the heroes of the smp, or c.) break free of his own accord, now that he has nothing keeping him with the egg.

of course, bbh doesn’t know that skeppy could be cured now, but he implied at the end of the red banquet that he would be on his way to big daddy island, the last safe place he knew.

(it could also mean l’sandberg, but that’s unscripted as far as i know)

nonetheless, bbh is probs not gonna stay with the egg, leaving the eggpire as basically, just punz and ant. we have no idea what the egg has offered punz or ant, since we know nothing about their motivations. back in november or december, there was a theory going around that the egg offered ant his bf, velvet, and it would be how they introduced velvet to the smp, but that never happened and ant has refused to speak on his character's motivations (which probably isn’t an accident). punz isn't gonna do lore anyway lmfao he never logs on but if i had to judge, i'd say the egg offered him money, since it seems to be the only thing that works with him. as for ponk, ponk has lost a canon life and was only pretending to be with the eggpire in the first place to spy on them, and if my theory is right, he isn’t actually infected, just staying with the egg to stick it to sam for hurting him, since he lost his canon life after being infected.

purpled wasn’t actually infected, just a mercenary, and obviously sam, foolish, and puffy aren't a part of it. this also connects back to quackity’s casino. if gambling away a canon life can cure someone from the egg’s influence, how many people would take that chance? would bbh himself take it if it meant being able to be with skeppy again? would quackity take the lives himself if he came across that information?

just a thought.

[inkyjaguar]

Quackity’s Lore Stream Notes

Okay, Dream and Quackity’s scene was heartbreaking. It showed how Dream still has faith in his friends to visit him, and it showed just how much control Quackity has over him. The person who used to be the most powerful person on the server is doing everything Quackity says except give the book over. However, Dream got very excited when Quackity mentioned he enjoyed the torture; perhaps he was already thinking of how he could turn Quackity into a lackey? Quackity was already half way there after all. 

How does he have an elytra????? Where did he get it??? The End is supposed to be closed...... did DreamXD let him have it? Did Drista? Drista is known as ‘the devil’ in the Dream SMP. But they are the only people who are allowed in the end. Did Quackity make a deal with ‘the devil’?

Could Purpled possibly be an alien? Is that why the UFO was so important to him? His way home?

How did Sam know about Foolish? Who was around when Foolish went bad? Possibly Karl? Could Karl’s old library be his ‘sources’? Why did he steal from Karl? Sam said later in the video that he was ‘the law’, but why does he break his own rules? He’s a person. A person who is motivated by friends. Could a friend have convinced him that he needed to steal Karl’s library? And if so, who?

Why is Quackity blowing up an establishment he owns?

Foolish had Foolish JR in his hand when everything went to flames in his backstory. Question is, how did he get Foolish JR in the first place? Did he rescue him from the fire as a memento of what he once did? Or did he take him with him to the job that went wrong?

He said ‘oh no’ when Wilbur came back. Is he scared of Wil? Wilbur mentioned that Quackity was his biggest rival. Does Quackity feel the same? Does he feel threatened that Wilbur is back? Threatened that Wilbur will take everything away that he has worked so hard for just like Wilbur did with Pogtopia? Wilbur has a mission though; one that involves a lot of stone. Could he be working with Quackity and building an entirely new project?

charlie kisses to greet others. Who taught him that? Ranboo and Tubbo?

I don’t have a lot to say on Charlie but I love the lore we’re being given and I can’t wait to see his new spy role! I will leave Charlie speculation to you guys. 

Quackity is coughing when he lets Charlie go; is he dying? The cough seemed too fake but I remember him saying to Foolish earlier that the land of Las Nevadas is chaotic in and of itself. Is the land physically killing him? Or, has his deal with ‘the devil’ had negative side effects?

what is purpled’s other job? I remember that BadBoyHalo hired him to kill Puffy but is he talking about something else? And if so, what is it?

who leaked quackity’s plan to purpled? Quackity mentioned a mole and the only other person who could’ve known is Sam. Sam is motivated by people/friends. It could be possible that he told Purpled in advance and then scampered after Quackity went in because we see Sam is gone when Quackity resolves things with Purpled. 

Ranboo is saving up money. He told us so in a casual mining stream where his viewers gambled channel points. He said he was saving up for something and that we would find out soon if we didn’t know already. I think he’s saving up for the casino. I think Quackity must’ve told him. 

Where does purpled live... The skull place?

Common theme in this recruitment video: making people “new”. With Foolish, he literally killed Foolish to make him new. With Purpled, he killed the one thing people knew him for. With Fundy, Fundy already did half the job with cutting himself off from everyone. He killed the old versions of his new recruitments and told them that they could be “new” or basically more “important”. This is a hugely manipulative move. By cutting off and isolating your victims, you have a better chance to mold them because they can’t look to the outside. 

Fundy’s bit was quite interesting because he showed the most resistance. Quackity has been working him for a lot longer than he has Foolish or Purpled. Fundy has been having these dreams of the past for far longer and it has taken its toll on him. He has blown up his home and moved away from everyone else because of it. However, when he meets up with Quackity, we see a half dead LManberg. This speaks a lot about his mental state. He is trying to leave everything behind but he can’t and so that is why LManberg in his brain is half dead; he is still holding onto it. 

I think this is all a dream. He goes to sleep and wakes up somewhere new. But then, why is Quackity there?

Well, who do we know who has the power to manipulate dreams and has power over the entrance to The End? DreamXD. I think, Quackity has gotten his new dream powers and his elytra from DreamXD. Not only that, but I think he is getting all his riches and power from DreamXD as well. It makes sense why Quackity boasts of riches and power beyond anyone’s belief if he has a god with access to creative mode. 

And finally, Quackity and Wilbur. I don’t have a lot to say on that. I’ll let someone else take the lead. 

tl;dr- common theme, out with the old, in with the new/rebirth. Quackity might have a sugar daddy. Fundy, Foolish and Purpled need a hug and Quackity is changing in more ways than one. 

[miyaniacs]

Mafia AU - Bokuto x fem!reader

A/n: uhmmm sorry for not updating ... i haven’t been motivated to continue this and then i did and forgot that i had this update lol... so here you are. The beginning of the downfall is here. Sooo Tbh it will Kinda depend on your responds to this chapter if it will take months for me to continue it - or days 🙇🏼‍♀️

Chapter 12 - A decision is made

Index ; masterlist ; Chapter 11 - The encounter

Warnings: uhhh... violence? Mentions of guns

Bokutos POV

Monday 12 am

I want to punish him. I want to hurt him the way he hurt her, by messing up her life.

He looks at Ushijima with hate filled eyes, his whole aura shifts when he sees his arrogant smirk.

Why is he so sure of himself?

Does he really think that he, Bokuto, wouldn’t beat the shit out of him, right here in his office?

“Oh and Bokuto - hope you have fun with that hoe.” Ushijima smirks and now Bokuto fully breaks.

“Call her a hoe one more time.” Bokuto hisses. Furious wasn’t enough to describe what he was feeling right now. He was boiling with pure hate, his fist was ready to collide with this arrogant face of the male in front of him. He was ready to sent him straight into the hospital, hell he was even ready to kill him right here.

The one thing that was holding him back was the fact that such a quick death would be way too ‘nice’. He needs to suffer, he wants to break him, makes him feel all the pain in the world. Slowly peeling the skin off his body, until he begs him to finally kill him.

“And what are you doing then? Huh? I’m just telling the truth. She would have went to bed with you straight away the first time you saw her, just to get close to you and get informations.”  Ushijimas face is now almost touching his, sparks flying, both ready to beat each other up. “That’s only because you’d force her to do so.”

He laughs again. What is so funny, was it all a joke to Ushijima? A joke that he ruined your life, forcing you to throw yourself at random man, just to get information out of them? And for what? A small amount of money, comparing to what Ushijima probably owns? Oh he has to deal with the consequences at some point, he has to ... feel the consequences.

He can already see him hanging on a wall, blood dripping off the several cuts on bis body, his arrogance long gone as he looks up at him with eyes, showing that Bokuto did it, that he broke him.

Suddenly he feels someone tugging on his arm and he spins around, taking a few seconds to understand that he is still im the office. The fire in his eyes burning up again as he sees the fearful look on your face. He wants to comfort you and ask what happened, but then the shook took over him. You’re afraid of him.

He takes a few steps back, giving you some room to breath.

He couldn’t talk to you, the knot in his throat hindering him from telling you how sorry he is. Bokuto is lost in his thoughts the whole way back to the car and during the drive.

He is filled with guilt.

He hates himself for showing you this side of him.

All he ever wanted was to be a save space for you, to make you feel home and at peace.

He never wanted you to feel fear when being with him.

He has to do something and he knows exactly what.

“Go inside, I have to discuss something with the boss.” He says without looking at you his eyes still fixed on the street.

“Kou… let me explain… please.”

His heart breaks, you really feel the need to explain? To apologize? When he is the one that hurt you?

“Later.” He says way to cold for his own liking, but he couldn’t start crying now, even though he feels like it. He swallows the emotions that start to well up inside of him “I promise we talk later.” Placing his hands on your face he softens. You’re so beautiful.

He frowns when he sees small tears rolling down your cheeks.

No, why are you crying? He slightly starts panicking inside but tries to not show it. “Don’t cry my love.”

“I’m sorry.”  Here you go, apologizing for nothing, at last he doesn’t see a reason why your should apologize to him.

“No, don’t apologise. Non of this is your fault. I should have known better. You already told me how you’ve met Ushijima. It was my fault.”

Regret fills him up again.

Why was he so stupid?

He walked right into Ushijimas trap.

And now you were afraid of him.

He wasn’t good for you.

He wasn’t the right one for you.

The life he lives wasn’t one for you.

He had to get you out of this whole mess, you deserve so much better than this.

Even if that means, for him to leave your life completely.

He leans in for one last kiss.

“No. Don’t say anything. I promise you, you will never see me like this again. I can’t bear knowing that you’re afraid of me, even if it’s only a tiny little bit of you fearing me.” He mumbles before kissing you again. “Now please, get inside. And I hope to find you in one of my sweatshirts when I get back home.”

He hated lying to you.

But he had to.

“Okay, I can’t promise not to take your Vetements one tough.” You laugh and he smiles.

“Whatever I own is yours.”

My heart, my home, my car, my everything, he’ll make sure that you are save when he wasn’t with you anymore.

His cheerful smile dropped the second you were out of sight, he speeds through the city, not caring about the red lights or the other cars.

Monday 3 pm

“Sorry the Boss isn’t here right now.” One for the guards says.

Bokuto rolls his eyes and walks around in the empty office.

“What are you-“ the guard begins, “ I write him a note.” Bokuto huffs and scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Make sure to keep Y/n save.”

He storms out of the building.

The Adlers really think they could simply tick him and the others? By putting Y/n in his life to spy on them? Are they really that desperate to involve such an innocent and pure soul as you into all of this?

The hate he felt for them just increased the more time he got to spent with you. Your pure soul lightens up his day, he smiles whenever he looks at you, his heart warms whenever he sees your smile, when he hears your laugh it’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard. All those days he got to spent with you for now, have been the best days of his life.

And how can such a beautiful person like you, work in such a dark world.

This isn’t a world that’s meant for you.

Sure he knows that you’re strong... but he isn’t stupid.

He can see that all of this is just a mask, you got used to this life, but it is not the life you wanted to be involved in. All your sarcasm, the cold look in your eyes, the raised eyebrow with that light smirk playing on you lips, whenever someone is saying something that could definitely get them into jail.

It is all an act.

And he knows that you know that he can see right through it.

Those nights he spent awake next to you, making sure to reassuring you that everything is alright and that he is right next to you, trying to keep all those nightmares away from you. He sees how you turn in your sleep, how your face frowns, he hears all those small no’s. And it breaks his heart whenever he feels your hands grabbing his shirt, clinging on him, burring your face in his chest while you whimper something only you can understand, your whole body shaking out of fear of whatever hunts you in your dreams.

Sure, you play tough, but he knows that deep inside your heart you want to leave all of this behind.

Enough was enough and he certainly had enough.

He takes his phone and type three small words before getting out of his car.

Opening up the trunk he pulled off the flooring revealing countless of guns and knifes.

It was a true old fashioned kamikaze mission, but he didn’t care.

Putting two of the small guns in the back of his pants, he grabs the loaded submachine gun in one hand, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

I’ll get you out of all of this, you’ll be able to live a normal life again, with or without me.

And he pulls the trigger, shooting the first guard.

Your POV

You stand in front of the big window, looking down at the passing people and cars, always looking out for one specific black one, but you couldn’t spot it. The longer you wait, the more restless you get, Bokuto was away for way too long now, he would have told you if it would take longer right?

So why haven’t he come back home now.

Your phone vibrates, before you could check it, you hear the door burst open.

“BOKUTO?!” You can hear Atsumu call out.

“Atsumu?” You walk over to him.

“Where is he?” The person next to him, Sakura asks.

“I was about to ask you the same thing, he dropped me off and told me he has something to do... but that was hours ago...” you mumble the next part, “ You... you don’t know where he is?”

“Does it look like we do?! The Boss is sending all of us out to find him!” Atsumu growls.

“Tell us everything that happened today.” Sakusa demands and you begin talking, describing the whole situation that happened with Ushijima and how Bokuto behaved slightly strange the way back to his.

The three of you stare at each other after you’ve finished and your attentions shifts to the TV.

“BREAKING NEWS - Countless of shots have been heard from the Casino, related to the infamous Adlers, we’re live - Cassie, what do you know?

‘ We all know nothing, civilians could all leave, all of them are talking about only one men, entering the building. The police is still clueless, but a few minutes ago, the shooting stopped and -“

“FUCK!” Atsumu screams and he and Sakusa run out of the door, “YOU STAY HERE!” He shouts before pulling out his phone already calling someone.

No. No. No no no. This can’t be real.

Your mind is racing while you collect your things and rush out of the apartment.

If there is one small chance that Bokuto is still alive, you have to take it, you had to save him at all costs. Even if it means breaking his heart and revealing everything... you just have to everything you can.

Looking down at your phone, you remember the message you got.

From: Bokuto

Please remember that I will always love you.

@tendouthighs ,  @lilacshouko​@softhourswithseb​ ​@theperksofcoffee ​@cuddlesslut @shhhlikeme​​, @kynyta​​ @yammmers​  @asahi-is-jesus-periodt​​ @hxnni-bxnni​​ @theduvetpirate​​ @chromaticstudio​​@gywjd0131​​​ @haikyuusimp91​​​ @kara-grayson04 @saucysamu​​ @brokeyiam​ ​

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I had a dream last night that North Korea was building a hotel in the shape of a giant guitar, not like the Hard Rock Casino in Fort Lauderdale where it's standing straight up, but rather a one story building with a floorplan outline in the shape of a guitar, and it was also part of their plans for the world's largest amusement park. I was given control of a spy satellite to monitor their progress, and they cut so many corners that the end result was just a normal hotel with a picture of a guitar painted on the roof; not even the full roof, just one section of it, maybe the size of a single room. I figured that if the hotel was this bad then the amusement park must be equally pathetic, and the further I zoomed out the more confident I felt because the hotel was in the middle of a forest with no amusement park in sight. But then I saw a monorail depot that shuttled guests to and from the park 100 miles away, and let me tell you, it was everything the North Koreans promised it would be. It was a seaside park the size of a city with roller coasters as tall as skyscrapers on tracks carved into the cliffs and mountains, a modern marvel of engineering, the 8th Wonder of the World. I then found myself in one of the hotel rooms, which looked like they tried to copy the old Nickelodeon Resort from Orlando but didn't have the architectural plans, so they did their best to model everything off of low quality photographs they found online, like the ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey (the book, not the movie)

[galaxy-lilies]

u have banger karlnapity aus mind if u list them all?

Princes of the Realms:

This is an AU where the three boys represent the princes of the three Minecraft realms: the End, the Overworld, and the Nether. There are kings of the realms as well, the three princes expected to eventually take their place as the new ruler. Nonetheless, there is an annual meeting where they meet in the Overworld. This is the first time the kings are bringing their sons or partners to the meetings due to them coming of age. Additionally there are some tensions between the realms so it would be best for the princes to meet each other. What they don’t expect is for all three to fall in love with each other.

Stardew Valley AU:

Karl is the new guy in town, having recently inherited his grandfather's ranch. However, instead of tending to the farmland, he takes over the museum/library in the southeast corner of town. It's there he meets the local blacksmith Sapnap and the saloon owner Quackity. Sapnap and Quackity were already flirting with each other but never committed to a relationship with each other. That changed when Karl was added to the picture. Antics ensues and while everything about Karl seems relatively normal, he has a secret he's not sure if he's willing to reveal to his newfound partners.

The Painter, the Barista and the Tattoo Artist:

Just a fluffy little AU where the cafe Quackity works at and the tattoo shop Sapnap works at are close by and they meet someone who frequents the cafe a lot and fall in love. The cafe is ran by the SBI crowd and Tommy usually hangs out in the back booth with Ranboo and Tubbo. When the Karlnapity trio get together, there's a lot of chaos and antics but it ultimately leads to Karl teaching painting lessons at the cafe.

Mute! Karl AU:

AU where Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap were childhood friends. They always met up by the playground and Karl always wore this zippup hoodie that would zip up to his face (if you know that zip up creeper hoodie Minx got stuck in, you'll know what I'm talking about). The design on the hoodie is Karl's old Minecraft skin and Sapnap and Quackity never had a good chance to see the boy's face but they never pressed. Additionally, Karl never really talked and the other two didn't mind either. They filled in the silence with their own stories and tangents. One day, Sapnap and Quackity arrived at their usual spot, seeing a boy with an oversized hoodie and long fluffy hair in Karl's place. Initially they were wary but after some charades Karl managed to get the message across that it was him. As they grew up, Karl managed to speak more but if he spoke for too long he would get overwhelmed and go mute for a while. It's a good thing that he has Sapnap and Quackity to help him through it.

Aladdin AU:

A more recent AU where Quackity is Aladdin, Karl is the genie, and Sapnap is Jasmine/the prince. BBH is technically our Jafar character but he is being controlled by the Egg and Skeppy is trapped somewhere thanks to the Egg. So far the AU is headed in the general direction of Aladdin but with a few twists.

Of Bullets and Roses: A mix up of a spy/mafia/casino AU. After Schlatt dies, Quackity is left alone to fend for himself and ultimately gets injured in the process. While he is saved by the Dream Team, they do not take kindly to helping others. Quackity is now in debt to Dream and he's tasked with making it up to Dream in one way or another. With the help of the Dream Team he's able to get back on his feet. Eventually he's tasked with taking down the SBI unit downtown and he recruits Sapnap who brings along a friend of his. Together, Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap manage to infiltrate the SBI base but not without a price.

Ink AU:

The most recent AU where Karl is a librarian who fights ink-like monsters that reside in the books within the library. He keeps on running into two reoccurring ink monsters while in real life he starts falling in love with two regulars that come to his library. He eventually realizes that the events he causes in the books affect real life. It’s up to him to come in terms that he may need to harm the ones he loves to save the world he loves.

These are the only ones i can think of off the top of my head rip there are probably more but yee

[reushq]

ABOUT

Name: Megara Kiraz. Suggested Occupations: Fury, occasional Fixer for Khton Corporate. Age: 32. Gender & Pronouns: Nonbinary, all pronouns. FC Suggestion: Alp Navruz. Can be seen: Sending fake rumours about Orpheus to gossip accounts, arm wrestling Zagreus, leaving long voice notes in the Furies’ group chat, helping Eurydice behind the bar, compiling reports for Nyx, signalling Tisiphone via complex eyebrow raises, hearing too much about Thanatos’ professional life, running security updates on the casino’s Cassandra.

STATS

Influence  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Charisma  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Protection  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Information ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ Experience ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

CODEX

Of all of Tartarus’ children, Megara is the one who truly understands the worth of their sunken citadel. Where others have rejected the kingdom’s gifts, the opportunities it offers, the lessons ground so early into its children’s bones, Megara doesn’t receive such blessings lightly. The eldest Fury truly understands: no one is promised anything in this life. To have a chance of thriving, even in hell, is more than she’d ever take for granted. I often believed Tartarus should be written down as Megara’s mother, the depth who made hordes of children and bound them by oath. She certainly refers to the region not as a place, but as a parent. And is there any family on earth better welded than theirs, the children of Asphodel?

Throughout their long, fraught childhoods, no was the only answer to that. Anything else was so unthinkable it could not even be dreamt, and Megara would sneer at them for trying. Why seek a life above the trenchant dark that loathed and loved them? What other place could understand them? Or, better said, dare claim them? But then Orpheus was gone. And the days of childhood ended. When Zagreus praised the musician’s cowardice - no, encouraged them, to boot, saying everyone should strive to leave Tartarus - she stopped speaking with him for months. By then, Megara was already a Fury, of course. She excels in spying, I think, not because she is deceiving, but precisely because she is incorruptible. She has no weaknesses and no vices - which means, ultimately, there is no leverage to sway her. 

This is what people fail to understand about Megara, as they do about most of the furies: they believe in what the depths gave them. Their devotion can rival the idealism of Poseidon’s fans, or the enchanted faith of Olympe supporters. They truly see in Tartarus what Hades, Nyx, and Persephone saw all those years ago - a land free from the rules and fights of others, away from Gaian hypocrisy and Arcadian morals. As a result, they want nothing more than to keep it safe, and make sure it prospers on the back of rich sheep.

I recall her fervid declaration that Orpheus would come crawling back: to one who has lived too long in the dark, she told her sisters, what can the sun do but render them blind? But Eurydice had plans to follow. When she clasped Megara’s hand, begging to be initiated among the spies for a penny more, the Fury was dissuading. Yet, in the end, she realized that helping Eurydice to join the sisterhood was better than letting her flee in the night. I think a part of her believed the dream of Olympe will die as it arose, a half-fledged whisper in the gardens. It was a scorn mixed with conviction: the stuff of martyrs, prophets and fools.

We all know what happened with Eurydice’s stint as a Fury. Or, I should say, none of us know what happened, only that it was sordid and irreversible, and swiftly swept back into the dark. I cannot know whether Megara blames herself, or whether she believes her friend is safer here, even as an outlaw, than she would be as a beggar in Olympe. In a world that owes you nothing, how many are fortunate enough to be raised within a fortress? 

These days, Eurydice stays out of numbness - and necessity. But other Asphodels make plans to leave. Megara looks at Hypnos, whose shadow grows thinner, whose eyes hold more distant lights by the day, and knows she will lose them to the surface. Zagreus is half gone, anyway, and Thanatos is only ever half present, sent on his shady exploits. It seems only Tisiphone and Alecto remain to her, and she holds to them with a fierceness bordering obsession. At some point Megara’s rage must falter, and betrayal must give way to grief. Asphodel is no longer the future, but the past, and nobody can hold time in their jaw - not even someone as resolute as her. I fear the recent invitation to Olympe will prove that once and for all. Is there any family on earth better welded than theirs, the children of Asphodel? If asked, Megara’s answer remains unchanged. But the question is no longer rhetorical.

CONNECTIONS

Familial connections: Alecto & Tisiphone (family can be darkness, not just blood alone).

Professional connections: Hades (big boss, the final word to obey). Nyx (direct superior, guiding figure, they share the same vision). Achilles (security point man, constant collaborator). Minotaur (security guard; not to be trusted, but a calculated risk). Sisyphus (former superior, disgraced, deserves worse than they got). Theseus (financial henchman, needs Hades’ boot on his throat more).

Social connections: Zagreus (embarrassing ex, unfortunately endearing). Dusa (companion and protege, deserves all the shots). Eurydice (Asphodel member, close to heart; questionable tastes in romance and morals). Orpheus (former Asphodel member, thus always to traitors). Hypnos (Asphodel member; reliable entertainment, already learns to miss them). Thanatos (Asphodel member, friendly rivalry; she resents how far his reach extends). Athena (suspects a tie to Tisiphone; intends to watch her closely).

WRITTEN BY AZA.

[delicrieux]

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta. 

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up. 

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?” 

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow. 

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

.

hope you liked it! xxx

.

[astraeagreengrass]

Right Where You Are, That’s Where I Am

Sometimes, finding yourself means finding someone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.904

Warnings: Angst, allusions to violence and PTSD, fluffy ending

A/N: This is my submission to @wkemeup​’s 4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Mariner’s Apartment Complex” by Lana del Rey. Thank you Kas for having me and congratulations on such an impressive milestone! ♡

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or any other fictional characters mentioned in this story - they are property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. The title belongs to Lana Del Rey. The plot is my own creation.

You lose your way, just take my hand  You're lost at sea, then I'll command your boat to me again

The plane left you in the border of Burundi.

From the muddy, narrow airstrip to the meeting point it took you four hours in a 1977 Jeep CJ-7. The air-conditioner was broken, forcing you to roll down the windows hoping for some breeze, but no such luck. Your hair was stuck to your nape and your skin collected mosquito bites as you drove through the heart of Africa, trailing the Mwiruzi river, guided only by an old printed map and a vibranium compass.

You reached the village at nightfall. Less than twenty houses formed a semi-circle around a tiny square, a well right in the middle of it. It was similar to hundreds of other villages you passed through on your way, but a rune drawn in white paint on the door of the house closest to the road gave it away as the right one.

You parked the Jeep beneath a Tamboti tree, tucking the keys under the passenger’s side seat cushion. Taking your backpack and a black duffel bag, you exited.

Nakia was waiting for you at the porch of the seventh house, a fussing baby in her arms. She was trying to soothe him with a lullaby sung in xhosa, her melodious voice the only sound apart from the crickets, but the child was insistent. Realizing she wouldn’t acknowledge you until the child was calm, you sat in the rickety wooden porch step, tucking your head between your knees. You hadn’t slept in over two days and finally finding Nakia gave you some unexpected relief that allowed the exhaustion to creep in.

“We’re leaving in the morning” she announced a few minutes later, when the baby surrendered to sleep. “You can rest until then.”

You wouldn’t, but it was nice of her to offer.

“It’s safe here” she added and you just nodded. That wasn’t enough guarantee to let your guard down.

Nakia sighed, only minor frustrated. Your behaviour annoyed her, but she knew she couldn’t demand much from you, even if you did look dead on your feet.

“Come on” she said, mentioning with her head for you to follow her inside. The house consisted of a single room, a kitchen, and two long, pic-nic style tables. It was relatively full, which immediately startled you, but your deft gaze was quick to assess that these people were more suspicious of you than you were of them.

There were no adult men, only women and children. The oldest boy appeared to be around twelve, and was carefully tucked to his mother’s side. There were other babies like the one Nakia extended to a girl sitting by the door, before exclaiming in igbo:

“Ayo! The milk is here!”

Ayo was a middle-aged woman mixing food by the stove. She nodded, but made no move to step away from her careful cooking.

“Are you hungry?”

You were, but it didn’t look like you were welcome. Regardless, Nakia mentioned you forward. Taking the black duffel bag from your hands, your host started taking out the cans of milk formula you bought in Johannesburg.

The request seemed odd to you at first: why did Nakia, the Kenyan heiress turned Wakandan spy, needed dozens of cans of milk formula somewhere in Tanzania? It looked as though this room was the answer.

Ayo wordessly placed a bowl of githeri in front of you. It was delicious and you didn’t hesitate when she offered you seconds. While you ate, Nakia and the cook stacked the cans in neat piles on the cabinet under the sink. You were still eating when they finished.

"We'll take your car to Mukigina" Nakia stated. "Someone will get us there."

"When?"

"In sixteen hours."

"How long from here to Mukigina?"

"A little over seven hours if we go off the road."

You shrugged. You've been going off the road for a while now.

"Can I ask you something?" she leaned closer to you. Nakia could easily be mistaken by one of your sisters, with her flawless features and deadly skills. But the gleam in her eyes, still present after all the terrible things she's seen during her undercover work as a War Dog, set her apart from the daughters of the Red Room. She wasn't broken, battered and bruised on the inside like you were. And all the horrors she'd witnessed weren't caused by her. "How did you know he was in Wakanda?"

You met Nakia at an underground casino in Busan right after the fall of Hydra. She was following a lead on a poacher of and you were following a lead on him. When the poacher  turned out to be more vicious than she expected, it was your bullet in his head that solved the problem. You never met again - until two weeks ago, when you saw her standing next to the Wakandan king at the United Nations.

"My sister was with your king in the summer" you explained. "In Germany."

"Oh" her eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her headscarf. "Romanoff?"

"Yeah."

"That explains how you know him."

You snorted.

"How did you think I knew him?"

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "Honestly, for the past two years I've thought about you constantly. You saved my life and I couldn't even say a proper thank you before you disappeared. I thought maybe you were an Avenger, but you're too squirmish for that. And none of them wear black, do they? They love their bright colors."

You laughed, the first real one in a long time.

Nakia patted you on the shoulder gently.

"I meant what I said earlier. You should get some sleep."

"Sleep isn't really my thing" you muttered.

"Every single girl in this village was rescued from the Boko Haram. We secured this location a couple of months ago because these men, these terrorists… They don't care about the women they steal, but they do care about their children. Especially if they're boys. So don't be ashamed of your nightmares, 'cause we're used to them around here."

You scanned the room. Most of the girls had left, but there were still three huddling by the stove, listening carefully to Ayo's instructions. They didn't look a day older than sixteen. At sixteen, you'd already killed more men than you could count with both hands. You wondered if they'd kill their kidnappers if given the chance.

Nakia's room was in the house next door. Moonlight filtered in through the curtainless window, bathing the small chamber in silver glow. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

In less than a day, you'd gone from old cars and dirty roads to spaceships and hover carriers.

Birnin Zana - The Golden City - rose miraculously under the savanna sun. Skyscrapers as high was the eye could see, a protective dome and cutting-edge technology - all of it coexisting in perfect harmony with nature and ancient traditions.

Nakia placed you in a hut in the outskirts of the city - close enough that you could visit Princess Shuri’s laboratory everyday but far enough that the locals wouldn’t be bothered by a foreigner’s presence.

The first week was torture. Blurry recollections of your past haunted your dreams, leaving you gasping for air, staring out the window until the first light appeared behind the trees. From dawn to dusk you'd stay at the lab, guarding his frozen body like a ghost.

It finally got on Shuri’s nerve.

“That’s it. I'm kicking you out."

She sent you to the Dora Milaje. Their leader, Okoye - tall, gorgeous and intimidating - was apparently looking forward to meet you. On a grassy field overlooking the river she handed you a wooden stick.

"Let's set how you fight without a gun" she said with a smirk.

It was disastrous. Okoye and the other warriors were graceful, silent and fast like cheetahs, meanwhile you were a hippo in heels, scrambling with the wooden stick. Madame B's voice taunted you, like the devil on your shoulder, seething everytime they bested you. On the fourth day of training your demons finally caught up to you and you broke down.

Okoye held you, whispering in soft Yoruba that you were safe.

A month later you braved the market. Manioc, okra and tomatoes in a booth, turmeric, cardamom and nutmeg in the other. The smell was intoxicating, swirling in your brain in gormandize like never before. You left chewing on a ripe piece of watermelon, pink juice staining your lips, with a pot of African violets cradled in your arms.

The violets were placed in your kitchen table - two seats, one for you and one for him when he came. Soon afterwards they were joined by a banana bunch, plucked from the tree in your yard.

The discovery of the banana tree made way for lettuce, eggplant and pumpkin. The seeds were gifted to you by Queen Ramonda herself and they took to the soil like sand to sea. When you noticed the first green leaf sprouting from the earth, you wept. Your hands, once made for killing, were now giving life.

The food welcomed the children. They'd play in your yard, sidestepping the flower beds like a dance. When they grew tired, they barged in, all five or six of them demanding lemonade and strawberries and questions.

"What does snow feels like?"

"Do you miss Russia?"

"Is it true the Americans think Africa is a country?"

Like ground ice. No. Some of them do, yes.

It was late December when Shuri gave you the news.

"We're ready to wake him up."

They placed his sleeping body on the bed, saying that he should rise by himself in a few hours. Suddenly, you were fourteen again, waiting behind bulletproof doors in a secret facility in Siberia, waiting to meet him for the first time. Only he wasn't the Asset or Soldat anymore. He had a name, a history, a mind of his own.

You'd killed for him. Tortured innocents. Thwarted governments. Broke a thousand rules just to be closer to your forbidden lover. Schemed and lied looking for his freedom, uselessly. Lost yourself trying to find him.

"Come with me" Natalia pleaded. "That spy I was supposed to kill in Budapest… He spared me. Said he can take us both to America. S.H.I.E.L.D. will offer us protection."

"I can't" you refused. "I can't leave him."

"You'll die before you save him."

Your sister was wrong: you survived. And now, halfway across the world, fate gifted you with another chance.

The children woke him. They scurried out of the house, laughing and chanting. Emhlope ingcuka, they called him. White wolf.

James Buchanan Barnes found you gazing at the horizon beyond the lake. Slowly, testing his legs, he walked over to your side.

"Good morning" you smiled.

"Good morning."

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Good."

You turned then, eyes catching his in the warm daybreak. A breeze ruffled his hair and your skirt, a gentle reminder that it was real. You were real.

"James?" you tried, hesitantly.

"Bucky" he declared in triumph.

"Bucky" you liked it. It suited him. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm sorry it took so long."

His right hand squeezed yours. Callus and scars met callus and scars. Your rough edges molded into his in a perfect fit, in this new land that took you in as its own.

You were home.

My masterlist

Everything taglist: @scentedsongrebel​ @youclickedthislink​ @thegetawaywriter​

[alexsmitposts]

Get Ready for That Epic Arms Race: Sleepy Joe Woke Up

Here we go. If you were wondering when the next foot would fall after a lunatic American president was replaced with Joe Biden, the new boss at the White House just took that step. The amplification of the anti-Russia symphony has now been maxed out now, as the US leader calls Russia’s president a killer on 50,000 news outlets. It turns out, Donald Trump was only the trendsetter for an American hegemony hell-bent on total world domination. Now the Biden presidency has the green light to create a detente nightmare.

I always thought the election of Donald Trump as America’s president was a kind of weird political science. But, like many Americans, I was anxious for a change of pace and policy, so a billionaire casino builder seemed a rift of a departure from lying politicians like Barack Obama and Joe Biden. Sadly, millions of us were only fooled. Donald Trump’s job, the reason for all that comical craziness of his, was to ensure the people who backed him would lose their voice for the foreseeable future. Now, the liberal world order is in full command, of a surreal army dedicated to taking down anything that has to do with tradition. And Russia, while they are at it.

The New York Times put it on the front page, Vladimir Putin authorizing an interference in the 2020 presidential election. And the proof is? Like all the proofs against Russian’s embattled president, hearsay. A nation based on the rule of law and justice has created a western world court of public opinion where a Tweet from a puppet of mobsters is enough to throw us into a state of war. Biden, sometimes referred to as “Sleepy Joe”, seems to have awakened from some kind of chilling dream where threatening the president of Russia is okay. He told ABC News’ George Stephanopoulos that Putin will pay that will soon become clear.

Now get this. The President of the United States kicks off his administration attacking Syria first. Then, in a masterstroke of diplomacy, he threatens the president of the second most powerful nuclear nation on Earth “they tried to influence public opinion”, referring to a report from the Director of National Intelligence that said there was no election tampering. You read that correctly. America is being prepared for all-out nuclear war, based on bobble-headed speculation and doublespeak, from the same people who tore up the US Constitution by spying on Americans. Here’s the declassified version of the report.

If your read it, you are thinking exactly what I am thinking. Is this a joke? According to these Sherlocks somewhere beneath the Pentagon or in the basement at Langley:

“Some foreign actors, such as Iran and Russia, spread false or inflated claims about alleged compromises of voting systems to undermine public confidence in election processes and results.”

This was “Key Judgement One”, no less. There’s not a hint of proof, and even if there were, how would this make Russia’s leader a killer? It’s madness. And we thought Trump had cornered the market on Alice in Wonder Land diplomacy. The report goes on to classify any criticism of either Joe Biden or Donald Trump, as efforts by some mysterious “Kremlin proxies” out there. I am not joking here, if you read this report you will probably start looking into Armageddon bunkers for your family. These people are riding the ridiculous wave that began to bulge about the time Bush II invaded Iraq. Obama paddled the surfboard to enable ISIS and the Euromaidan, Trump donned the banana-colored Hawaiian bathing suit, and now Joe Biden is cutting a wake straight into a geopolitical tsunami. Short version, we will probably all drown in the aftermath of this nincompoop report. Get this. The President of the United States is acting based on a report that cannot decide whether the Russians liked Biden or Trump! The trillion-dollar US intelligence machinery says they think Russia preferred Trump over Biden, even though Trump had some unlikable policies toward Russia! Here is one section. No, I am not lying.

“We have high confidence in this assessment based in part on the Kremlin’s statements about him and the consistency and volume of anti-Biden messaging we detected from Russian online influence actors.”

The lunacy continues. Please read this report! The geniuses in America’s cyber battalions took what happened, which was Trump losing, and then got some PR hacks to write a “truth” that would match (sort of) the fact Russia just watched and waited to see who would win. Seriously. They cite Mr. Putin’s actions and words, then wave some kind of White House spell casting wand, to make it appear Putin was spending his nights wringing hands and plotting what America will do. Talk about exceptionalism gone off the edge. The US President, these days, is just not that important to anybody anymore. Trump saw to that. The report writers go on to seesaw back and forth as to whether Putin wanted Trump or Biden, in one of the dumbest official reports I ever read. And Biden waved it in front of the American people.

Okay. After you read, and when you note how many times the word “probably” occurs in the document, I know you will try to wrap your mind around what just happened. For many of you, if Trump was a raging maniac, Joe Biden will come into focus as a mindless stooge who will certainly fiddle while the world burns. The unbelievable thing is, nowhere in this Three Stooges of cyber intelligence report does it say Vladimir Putin killed anybody. Biden just threw that in for good measure, before threatening harm for Putin and/or Russia.

I hope the reader will forgive me, for once I am at a loss as to what to say next. Biden went further, if you can imagine this, suggesting that Russia’s leader does not even have a soul, reasserting his dislike for the Russian leader from a supposed meeting they once had. The Associated Press (AP) ran this story as if this crazy report were prima facia evidence. I guess my only analysis is this – get ready for the biggest arms race in history.

[kingjinxii]

Now that I can breathe again, let’s talk about P5R’s trailer!

Now that my hype is out of the way, I want to put my thoughts on the trailer down coherently.

So, let’s jump right in!

The trailer starts with Akira in the interrogation room, being confronted by Goro, aka the traitor. This is very reminiscent of the E3 2016 trailer for vanilla P5, but Sae is not present, and the questions being asked are more personal than a simple interrogation.

Goro: You think you know it all. You think that sparing you here is going to make me happy? I have no need for such pity. I have no need for such hesitation!

Now, this is the iconic scene where Goro “kills” the protagonist. And honestly, a lot of people had problems with it, Goro fans and Anti-Goros alike. The angry and vindictive way he killed Akira seemed...bizarrely out of character if he’s meant to seem sympathetic, and seemed out of touch with the “true self” we see later on Shido’s ship.

Here, he seems conflicted, he says he has “no need for hesitation” but he never hesitated in vanilla P5, so why call attention to it here?

I’ll get more into it later.

Following that scene, we find ourselves back in a frozen Shibuya crossing, just like when Akira first received the Metaverse app, and saw Arsene. While in that first scene, he seemed...apathetic if a bit confused, in this one, he’s outright scared, and worried.

That doesn’t go away when the screen lights up behind him.

Mysterious Voice: I...stole a dream.

It sounds like everyone’s new boo Kasumi has some secrets she’s hiding. This appears to be a late game Palace, possibly replacing the Bottom of Mementos as the December Palace.

Dreams and ideal versions of people keep popping up in all the promo imagery. But let’s continue on.

We get a previous of our stylish new OP featuring (nearly) everyone. It’s very reminiscent of comic books, very flashy and colorful.

Also it’s a bop.

Kichijoji opens up! It’s famous for its shops. Inokashira Park, a place already in the game, is also in Kichijoji.

Palace exploration has been expanded. We have a grappling hook now, allowing us to move at a Z axis! No more just sneaking around.

What I really hope this means is a lack of “Safe Room skips”, aka just skipping to your last Safe Room before the final boss. Maybe this time, you’ll really have to secure a route without the use of safe rooms.

The dialogue is much more interesting though.

Futaba: With this you can...rewrite cognition?

Makoto: Can we really do that?

Cognitive Pscience was brought up in Futaba’s Palace. It’s what her mother, Wakaba, was researching. However, it never actually affected anything, other that Shido learning about the Metaverse. It looks like it will play a bigger role in the story of Royal.

Kamoshida: Didn’t I tell you already? This school is full of students you’d be better off turning a blind eye to.

Morgana: Don’t you think something’s off here?

In practice, these are probably two unrelated pieces of dialogue referring to 1. Kamoshida being a dick and telling you to stay out of trouble, and 2. a Palace puzzle. But the fact they are used against this shot of Kasumi has me thinking that she isn’t all she appears to be.

The current theory is that she is like Marie from P4 Golden, some sort of supernatural entity spying on us in the real world.

But that’s a post for another time.

FINALLY these kids are getting THERAPY.

Also he’s cute.

Not much to say here, but let me touch on Ann’s line.

Ann: Lately, I’ve been feeling like someone’s watching me.

Ann: Like someone’s tailing you?

I’m fairly certain these two lined are unrelated. I think the first is referring to Yusuke’s stalking, and the second referring to Makoto’s stalking the protagonist or possible Kasumi or Goro stalking. Nothing new to note.

Futaba finally going to get her AOA!

Combo attacks from P4 are back! Haru/Morgana and Ryuji/Makoto are in the trailer. My money is on Ann/Yusuke having one, and possible Kasumi/Goro too

Yu never got one, so I’m assuming it’ll be the same with Joker.

Kasumi gets some dialogue!

Kasumi: Senpai, are you continuing on as Phantom Thieves? Wouldn’t it be best to stay out of trouble?

I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that Kasumi knows the protagonist is a Phantom Thief early. Like, possibly even Mishima early (as in Rank 1 Confidant). She showed opposition to the Thieves before, so I wouldn’t put it past Atlus to have her Confidant be debates between you and her on your methods.

This staticky figure is shown. I’m guessing it’s Kasumi, as this appears to be the same screen as was in Shibuya. The shape is indistinct though.

More school events, and Makoto and Haru are introduced early. Makoto even has a new portrait! To be honest, I prefer her old one, but maybe it will grow on me.

I’m worried the game will be too text-heavy though. I had a major problem with how much reading was in vanilla P5, especially conversations about nothing, that ended up leading to you being unable to go out at night. I hope let you go out after story events now.

Kasumi is possibly being abused/hurt by this man, but I’m unsure. We’ll need more information.

This cutscene scares me. She looks like she’s been betrayed. Possibly by the protagonist being a Phantom Thief? I don’t know.

“Self-suggestion” is also mentioned here. Maybe more Cog-Psci stuff?

New hangout: Penguin Sniper! Home of darts and billiards. Inviting your friends here might raise your relationship with them, and maybe raise your stats? We’ll see.

Phantom Thief Kasumi confirmed! Her HP and SP pool has me thinking she’ll be a primarily physical attacker, which is an interesting thought.

I love her Thief outfit. She’s wearing a leotard, which emphasizes her skill as a dancer and gymnast.

Place your bets for her Thief name. Maybe Princess or Rose?

Yusuke has a brief line.

Yusuke: I ran away. Forgive me.

I’m thinking this may be added dialogue about Madarame, but I’m uncertain. It ties into another point I’ll discuss later though.

Here’s the more spoilery part of the trailer!

Take a look at the lower right corner. Do those stripes look familiar?

It seems that Goro is alive and well, helping out the Phantom Thieves with Loki as Black Mask!

SO why did he hesitate in the interrogation room?

It’s because he genuinely cares for the Thieves and Akira. My prediction is he spares Akira, and joins there, instead of being a boss fight.

We’re getting a new Palace. That’s obvious. In vanilla P5′s opening, all the sins are overlaid over Morgana.

They are

Acedia - Sloth (The People’s Mementos)

Avaritia - Greed (Okumura Spaceport)

Gula - Gluttony (Kaneshiro’s Bank)

Luxuria - Lust (Kamoshida’s Castle)

Invidia - Envy (Sae’s Casino)

Ira - Wrath (Futaba’s Pyramid)

Superbia - Pride (Shido’s Ship)

Irritum - Vanity (Madarame’s Museum)

However the last one, Cavum or Emptiness, goes unused.

This Palace must be Cavum.

The question is whose Palace is it.

Old theories had it be Goro’s, but considering he’s in the Monamobile, I’m guessing it’s Kasumi’s.

Kasumi a cute!!

Also, Ryuji.

Ryuji: What’s right and what’s wrong...You have to decide that for yourself. Don’t just run away to keep yourself safe.

See, I told you that quote would fit in later!

I’m going to take a guess at P5R’s theme: Escapism.

Vanilla P5 is all about standing up for what you believe. Royal is going to tell you why you need to do it, instead of indulging in your own fantasies to escape your reality.

Finally, Joker drops from a great height towards the ground. Or those weird stairs.

I’m getting serious Ryuji sacrifice vibes here. If Joker survives this, whatever he’s dropping down to face, he’ll have to face alone.

No more running.

So there you have it! My coherent thoughts on the P5R trailer? What do you think? Do you have your own opinions and observations? Let me know!

[atty-goldstein]

feeling a lot of deja vu again

A/N: I have been haunted for months by parallels, so here’s an ambitious Spies are Forever and TGWDLM crossover where Curt Mega is reincarnated as Ted and Owen Carvour is reincarnated as Paul Matthews. Whether this will have more parts, is subject to reception (and my time or motivation to actually write more). 

tagging: @showstoppingnumbrr @sweetsmalldog @prismartist @moonblimpie

tw: angst, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of alcoholism

It was the same old haunting memories, Ted wished they’d stop, he remembered having been Agent Curt Mega already, he didn’t need to stay chained to the ghost that was long gone. Hell, he didn’t even want to remember. He just wanted to wake up one day, knowing Ted is all he was and all he’ll ever be. Just once, he wanted to wake up able to look at his damn reflection without seeing the face he put a bullet in all those decades ago. Not even the cracks in the glass, which he caused in a fit of angst, let him unsee the sight that plagued him for years. It was disconcerting listening to himself speak and not recall the venom that once tainted his voice, God, at least he wasn’t reincarnated British, how maddening would that be? 

Abandoning his vice turned out to be for nothing if this was how he was meant to live in this lifetime, so he returned to the bittersweet arms and throat-burning sensation of alcohol. It didn’t really matter, there was nothing and no one to try being a good person for anyway. Agent Curt Mega had his mother, Tatiana, Barb, the Informant, even Cynthia. And Ted? Well, Ted had no one. It wasn’t that he never tried looking for them in the people he interacted in now, but they simply weren’t there. Charlotte, Bill, Melissa, Mr. Davidson, Paul, and literally everyone else in Hatchetfield were their own persons. Except maybe that crabby barista that very much reminded him of that equally crabby waitress at Richman’s Casino, but that information wouldn’t do much for him even if it were true.

There were days when he’d be grateful he never saw Owen in anyone, but then he’d pass by a mirror and- oh, that’s right. Ugh, why couldn’t the universe just let him be? Why did the universe have to take “spies are forever” literally? It wasn’t even amusing the first time around with Owen. And, he’s back in the depths of the memories that broke his heart beyond repair. Yeah, Curt Mega’s pretty sure he’s cursed beyond reasonable doubt.

Paul jolted awake in bed. It was that feeling of his soul being dropped back into his body after dreaming of falling. Falling was the most familiar feeling in the world to him. This wouldn’t be the first time it happened, but it still knocked the wind out of his lungs and made his heart race. He hated waking up like this. These weren’t even dreams, these were memories. Half the time he kept expecting he’d wake up in that Russian Weapons Facility turned inferno or yet another Russian Weapons Facility but expecting cold concrete instead of fire and brimstone. Still, he’s still just in his bed in good ol’ Hatchetfield. 

Hatchetfield was supposed to be a decent change of pace, much more mundane than a life of espionage, treason, and other crimes against national security. Owen Carvour was alright with settling into the persona of a completely average person. Sure, “the guy who didn’t like musicals” isn’t as colorful a moniker as “the deadliest man alive” but it’s not the worst. He wasn’t too fond of being reborn American, but there was nothing to be done about that. It was fine, he’d made friends- well, mostly acquaintances, gotten a lot more time to himself, and got himself a pretty stable job. This life was safer, even if it meant he could no longer flex about being the best spy there ever was. It was okay, because he no longer had to be a subordinate to a group dedicated to causing the world to fall apart.

That was, until… he met the reincarnation of his past downfall. He cursed the moment he’d seen him. Apparently, he couldn’t have his face back but sure, give it to Curt fucking Mega. The rage and betrayal threatened to bubble over the surface, but he was going to hold back. He was not going to expose his past life to Curt. No more impulses, no more reveals, play the long game again. So Owen forced out a smile, held out a hand to his new co-worker, Ted, and introduced himself as Paul Matthews.