#kirby: text (any/all)

[paintpanic]

Res AU Joronia drawings. Character rambling and bonus doodles under cut.

This AU takes place a good while after the events of Triple Deluxe happened. Since then, Taranza's mostly recovered mentally from everything. He was able to move on from his grief and (somewhat) forgive himself. Now that Joronia's in his life again, seemingly back to her former self, some of those wounds he'd thought were fully healed have started to ache again. He still feels ultimately guilty for what happened to her.

He's thrilled that Joronia's been given a second chance at life, but is somewhat wary deep down. This feels to good to be true, that she's just back with seemingly no strings attached. The other shoe could drop any day now, and he could lose her all over again. Fearing this, he wants to make the most out of what could be a short time to be together again with his friend.

Joronia senses that there's a distance between the two of them now that wasn't there before. It shouldn't be surprising; he's probably still hurt from what she did. Other people definitely are. She's determined, though, to work hard to make it up to everyone she's hurt, and to prove to them (and herself) that she's not really like that, that she's capable of being better.

The Mirror's influence twisted her mind and her perception of reality. It made her feel like she was inadequate, and that everyone else were enemies to be subjugated. Now, she's supposed to be normal and better, but she still feels like there's something wrong with her head. She still doesn't feel good enough, and it still feels like everyone hates her. It's hard to trust herself. She's not sure if it's some lingering effect of the Mirror, or if there's just something inherently wrong with her now. She's scared.

She's afraid that something will happen, that she'll revert to how she was as Queen, and that she'll hurt Taranza again. Someone who'd always helped her, who'd stuck with her even when she was absolutely horrible to him, and who's kindness she's relying on again now, staying at his home as she worked on getting her life back together. She's a burden on him, and she always has been. She hates it.

Still, her deepest, most selfish wish is that they could be real friends again.

---

These two need to have a long, honest discussion about their feelings toward each other and themselves. Both of them are absolutely terrified about that prospect, though, because they each think that the other secretly resents them to some degree. If they actually talked through it, they'd quickly realize that they both want the same thing.

[yarmiko-art]

Watch out, kids, there's a man eating butterfly over there--!

Really wanted to make something like this with them for a while. I care for them so much. Wholeheartedly believe that those kids have a really deep bond

There's a lil tidbit down the post with me trying to do the character study on Gooey.

"I can't do it right," Gooey mutters quietly with clear sadness in their voice, looking at the crumpled wad of paper under their fingers. Whatever this thing was, it definitely wasn't a paper plane he worked so hard on for the ten minutes, sticking out his tongue with diligence.

The boy raises his head up, looking at a white speck among the green leaves. Kirby's planes flew easily and far without effort. One of them soared so high up that it got stuck in the crown of a tree, which stretched a huge pleasant shadow above them. A pretty orange butterfly perched itself on a white wing. Even it likes Kirby's plane better.

Kirby's paper frogs were better, too. They jumped on the grass as if they were alive - the boys just needed to lightly poke their flattened heads. Origami cranes gracefully positioned themselves in the shade with their wings spread out. Waiting for the wind to pick them up in the air. The doves were made of regular, even lines.

And Gooey couldn't even make a simple paper plane. Maybe the wings were too short to allow them to fly forward rather than fall, driven down by the force of the impact. Or maybe he was making too many bends on the sheet, constantly forgetting which corners to bend inwards. But it suppose to be so easy. Kirby made it look so easy.

Gooey looks at their hands in disappointment. Palm. Five splayed child fingers with a couple of scratches from carelessness. No different from a human one. Gooey grabs Kirby's wrist and puts his palm against his own, carefully comparing them. Frustrated eyes run from one hand to the other. Kirby doesn't mind. His free hand ruffles the blue dreadlocks on other's head in a soothing manner.

"Don't be upset. I didn't do it right the first time either."

Gooey unclenches the fingers, closing his eyes. He wouldn't be so upset about the first time. But this was the third one! Something was clearly wrong! He obviously did something wrong while morphing these hands—Huh?

The look of big dark eyes attracts something new. Kirby takes out a new sheet from the pile of paper pinned down by the picnic basket. He smoothes it out on the grass and lures Gooey closer.

"Fold it in half first," the boy draws an imaginary fold line across the sheet before Gooey hesitantly follows the instructions, "Neat! And now one more time. And then open it."

Fold the corners to the inside. Fold up the bottom. Corners again... Following Kirby's words was much easier than frantically trying to remember the next step in fear of ruining the sheet. Turn it on its side and in half again. Huh, Gooey doesn't remember such a step in the plane making. Although, maybe that's why they didn't couldn't do it right.

The sheet goes tightly under the fingers, bending unevenly. "It won't fly this time either," the boy tells himself, but completes the last instruction - pull the corners to the sides. He expects the paper to tear, but instead the origami in his hands opens up in--

"A boat?" Gooey blinks a little puzzled, and Kirby tugs at his elbow in the direction of the pond. The water was right next to them, splashing the knees, covered with herbal juice Two hands sink into the cool pool, allowing the boat to gently stand on the shiny surface. Gooey leans forward, hanging over the pond at a dangerous angle, about to fall into the water. But the boat is not sinking. Kirby takes a deep breath and blows - the light paper gives in, and moves forward, leaving a small ripple on the blue surface.

Gooey blinks again and their face breaks into a happy smile. It's strange, he can't remember what he was so upset about.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a reflection in the pond below him. Two little children - one in a white overalls, and the other in a blue robe. He raises his hand and the child from the pond waves back at him. Palm. Five children's fingers. Quite human.

[moonmacabre01]

The very specific hell of not being a fan of Metadad with Kirby. Can they just be really weird friends please.

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

how do people come up with system names. i’m like five seconds away from opening a word generator and making it all mark’s problem

[sun-corpse]

shoutout to mfs with counterintuitive comfort characters. gotta be one of my favorite genders

what? no. this post is not about my stupid obsession with Folly. why would u think that

[chibishortdeath]

OH I AM BEING SO INCREDIBLY NORMAL ABOUT CORDOVA TOWN RN—

[sweetandglovelyart]

Are there any other Kirby fans on here who are also fans of Star Trek? I know of a couple people already, but I’m trying to see if there’s anyone else. I personally see a lot of parallels between Kirby and Star Trek, and some of my Kirby fanart is Star Trek-inspired, so that’s why I’m asking.

[warpstarrie]

oh no gay people hyperfixation

thinking about comoe/susie is so weird bc in canon they are sugar sweet, jus two girls having their first* relationship

but if they met at anytime during robobot comoe would eject her from the solar system

szzsszzczxzx

you know what i am rewriting robobot in my mind she's just evil in a rich girl way instead of that + a willfully ignorant/indifferent colonizer brat

[lowrezbonuslevel]

I think Crystal Shards is the safest bet. The movie would definitely try to accommodate viewers with limited knowledge of the Kirby series, and Adeleine is a great character to introduce to Kirby alongside the viewers.

I could see the setup being Kirby escaping to Earth on his Warp Star, bumping into Adeleine (probably literally, as a trailer gag), and taking her across the galaxy to fight Zero2 and the Dark Matter horde.

Adeleine could serve as mediator to the audience in another way—since seeing Kirby talk in complete sentences can be jarring, even to fans of the series, the writers would almost certainly limit his dialogue to the classic "Hiii!" and "Poyo." Adeleine could "translate" exposition to the audience via her conversations with Kirby instead.

Conveniently, the story of Crystal Shards also provides Ribbon for Kirby's love interest (if such a subplot is obligatory), Dedede for the comic relief (what would a Kirby movie be without Dedede, anyway?), and (Bandanna?) Waddle Dee to provide additional context to the movie's setting.

I don't think there's a real chance that the movie would be a one-to-one recreation of any particular game in the Kirby series. Video game movies seem to have been prohibited from being too faithful to a franchise, for better or worse.

Considering this, I would really prefer it if a story with more gaps to fill is adapted. Crystal Shards has a strong enough story to guide the basic plot of the movie, but also leaves enough "questions" for the movie to answer without trampling too much on existing canon. (Who are the people of Ripple Star? How did Adeleine get to Popstar? What is Zero2's motivation? etc.)

I can already see the post-credits scene that teases Meta Knight's appearance in the sequel. Wow! This script truly writes itself!!

The only remaining question is: which character is Chris Pratt going to voice???

Please reblog this btw !!!

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 7

Summary: You saved Soap's life. And Laswell has news.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings For This Chapter: Continued military and safehouse inaccuracies, mentions and descriptions of suicide, canon typical violence/gore, guns, attempted accents, and more Soft!Simon

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the latest chapter. I treasure each and every comment and they really keep me motivated! Just three more chapters after this!

Previous Chapter

You spent a strange amount of time just poking at things in your room. There had been a secret door between rooms; surely there were other things for you to find. You’d given up on trying to nap after you stared uselessly at the ceiling for an hour, listening to the muted sounds of the city starting to wake and start the day. You were tired. Exhausted. Had been for weeks.

But you couldn’t sleep.

Couldn’t sleep because Simon had kindly offered to show you around a library. What was wrong with you? And how many times have you asked yourself that in the last handful of weeks? And you were so mad at yourself for wanting it. Wanting to see that library with Simon. You knew all of this was temporary. Even if they managed to kill or apprehend Makarov in a timely manner, where did that leave you?

He lived in the UK (when he wasn’t off somewhere around the world doing…whatever it is he does) and you had your life here in Chicago. Sort of. It wasn’t as if you had a job waiting for you. And your lease was nearing its end. And… You really needed to stop this train of thought. It would only hurt you. So, you turned over and shoved your face into the pillow and groaned before getting up and exploring your room a little more.

To your strange comfort, it seemed like your only surprise had been the door connecting your room to Simon’s. There were no secret compartments in your closet or bathroom. The one thing you did find was in the small drawer in the bedside table: a small red button tucked just inside. You knew better than to press it—red buttons usually meant trouble and you weren’t about to test your hypothesis when you finally had a small bit of peace.

Saving you from your boredom for a moment was a new text, chirping on your phone. It was a picture of Kirby and Pauline in the back of a car, bundled up and ready to go, the tiny yellow teddy bear tucked in beside the carrier. “Off on our first adventure!” The picture was probably taken by the post-partum doula or nanny Kirby had hired. Kirby had sent you heaps of potential resumes and then felt content with the two she’d narrowed it down to—and you’d felt a little more secure knowing she had help. She had steadfastly refused any other help you offered, telling you she was determined to do everything on her own. Were you nervous about that? Of course. But she had read every parenting book her doctor recommended, attended every single mothers’ birthing class, researched endlessly about each and every bit of furniture she could buy before purchasing, and went to extra therapy sessions biweekly ever since the situation with Julian blew up.

She’d have help and the money Julian coughed up would probably make everything a little easier. They’d be okay. You could be waiting in the wings if anything came up, and Kirby knew that. Kirby needed to be Kirby. And you needed to be okay with that.

Ugh. You did not need to be having all these emotions before breakfast. You typed out a quick, “love you guys!” message and deleted the perfunctory “stay safe!” you had first added and instead just added a single heart emoji. There. Nailed it.

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled. It had been a while since you’d eaten—a burger and one half of a chocolate bar you split with Kirby before dawn at the hospital hadn’t exactly been a complete breakfast. And thinking of the chocolate had you remembering Simon had been the one to buy it—not that you could ever forget any of this. Or him. And you knew it was stupid. Stupid to hope, to want…but you still found yourself going over to the hidden door and knocking. Maybe he’d get breakfast with you.

But the wall didn’t open and you tried to ignore how something ached in your chest because of it. Well, you could still get breakfast anyway. But first, you decided to give pilates another try, queueing up a workout on youtube and regretting it only a few minutes in. By the time you finished, your arms were shaking and your legs hated you but the shower felt nice. You slathered a bit more arnica cream across your throat when you finished. It would still take time for your neck to look normal, but the red in your eyes had steadily decreased.

You turned your attention to the extensive room service menu that had been tucked beside the sleek bedside table lamp and tapped your finger against the thick cardstock, mulling over your choices. You flipped the menu over, trying to make sure you knew all your options and instead found a small history of the hotel. Apparently it had always been “family owned” since its opening right before World War I. Interesting. Had it always been a safehouse? Either way, the matcha sounded good. Eggs Benedict, too. You ordered, feeling a little ridiculous—you’d never ordered room service before—but the person on the other end of the line was nice enough. It might have been the manager, but you weren’t entirely sure.

Your throat ached as you set the phone back in its cradle. All of the excitement yesterday definitely did a number on it all. Maybe tonight you’d actually sleep well… You weren’t going to hold your breath about that, though.

A knock sounded at your door a few minutes later (after Kirby had texted you back, another picture of Pauline, snuggled in her bassinet), it was probably your breakfast, but you still checked the peephole and felt a small bit of tension leave your shoulders when you recognized the manager on the other side.

She held out the covered tray with a smile. “Excellent choices, if I do say so.”

You returned her smile and took the tray, mouth watering a little at the smell of it. “I didn’t think you’d be the one to deliver it.”

She shrugged. “We don’t let just anyone up here. And the kitchen was busy anyway, two birds, one stone and all that.”

Briefly, you remembered how breezily she checked you all in, smiling at John the entire time. She really must have seen some stuff to not care that a known terrorist was looking for people who were hiding in her hotel. “Still, that was kind of you.”

She waved that away, too. “I’m sure Laswell said you could ask for anything,” she said, a knowing smile on her face.

“She might have said that to the guys.” Not to you. You were sure the no-nonsense woman you’d met back in the UK didn’t particularly want to think about you at all. You wouldn’t hold it against her; you hadn’t made the best of impressions.

She nudged her arm into yours. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re one of them right now. Maybe it’s just for now, maybe it’s just for a little longer, but for now, you are under my care and the hotel’s protection.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “Sounds like a bit of a steep promise.”

The manager shrugged. “It is. But my family’s been doing this for generations. I know how to keep you safe.” Her watch beeped before you could even attempt to process what she’d told you and she smiled again. “I’ve got to run. Please, enjoy your breakfast.” And then she was gone, disappearing down the hall and into the elevator.

What an enigma of a woman. Again, you thought of Price’s interactions with her. Just what had happened between them? Hmm. Oh well. Probably just another question you’d never get the answer to. You settled onto the overstuffed armchair in front of the giant television and tried not to think about the man on the other side of the wall.

Simon had spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at the hidden door that led to her room. Wondering if she actually fell asleep. Wondering if her short time with her sister and niece was enough to make her happy. Or settled. She’d once asked if he had anyone to get back to after all this was over. He didn’t. And after she had told him about what she had gone through, he thought about his own family. His mum. Tommy. Beth and Joseph. And for a moment, short and aborted, he thought about telling her what had happened to them. She might understand. There could be understanding there, instead of the pity anyone else who knew his story usually met him with. But, again, Simon pushed it away.

Pushed it down, ignoring how the thought echoed and ached.

But it didn’t really matter because Price called them all to his room, telling them that Laswell had called with news. That could have been good. But Simon knew better than to think this all would be over soon. And then a strange, selfish thought struck him, too, as he followed Kyle to Price’s room. This gave him more time with her. She’d been quiet after he offered to show her the library before he watched a small smile push at her perfect mouth. And he thought about it until Price had called them.

But any sort of hope was quietly stuffed away when Price fixed them all with that look that Simon knew well. And maybe he should have been expecting this. Something didn’t feel right. It was too quiet. Simon knew Makarov played the long game. But Laswell had been briefing them about how several more of his caches had been destroyed and more of his men had been killed but Makarov hadn’t been spotted. There was no chatter from him or about him despite Laswell, Farah, and Alex all hunting for him.

Laswell was waiting for them, videoing in on the laptop Price had set up on the small table in his room. Simon stood at the back, letting the others take the chairs closer to the laptop. Price turned toward Laswell, his mouth set in a thin line. “We’re here, Laswell. What do you have for us?”

Laswell sighed. “I found who leaked your location.”

“And?” Johnny said, leaning forward in his seat. He was chomping at the bit to get some sort of revenge. Their families had been targets. No doubt Johnny had wanted to make him feel exactly what his mother had felt. And Simon knew that he hated that she had been hurt. The feeling was mutual.

“He’s dead.”

“What do you mean he’s dead?” The question had an obvious answer but it needed to be asked, if Simon was being honest.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say.” Laswell shook her head. “The man I tracked down when I figured out who leaked where your team was located shot himself.”

Price looked at Simon who looked right back. “Confirmed, then.”

“I was the one who found him, John.” Her breath crackled over the line. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

No. She wouldn’t. But this still all stank of something he didn’t like.

“I’m still tracking down who he sent his intel to, but I hope to have news for you soon.”

It was someone Laswell had worked with, not necessarily trusted, but relied on in some capacity. That was a betrayal. A deep one. Shit.

The video disconnected soon after and they all seemed to just look at each other. Silently processing what they’d just learned, calculating their next move. What options did they have? Moves to be made. Risks assessed. Before any of them could voice their thoughts, the computer beeped again. Simon watched Price type in a code and then sigh.

“I need a bloody drink.” The captain rose, in search of the morning drink he wanted, and Simon slid into the chair he vacated.

Simon didn’t blame him for wanting a drink. That was an appropriate response. Laswell had sent over a batch of pictures from the leak’s apartment. Probably taken when she’d gone to confront him. He clicked through the pictures, trying to tell himself that this was one loose end tied up in a neat bow. But there was a voice at the back of his head that kept whispering that something wasn’t right. There was more to this than one man’s apparent greed and Makarov playing him for a fool. Simon stopped, pausing on one of the photos of the man, his head back against the edge of his computer chair with blood and bone and brain spattered behind him on the white wall.

Everything on the desk was neatly arranged. Stacked. Organized. Now marred by the mess of his death. And yes, Simon knew death was messy. Could be messy. But people sometimes took care to make sure it wasn’t. And the more he looked at the surrounding room, Simon surmised that this man was a person who would take care to make sure his death wasn’t messy.

It didn’t fit.

The bruising, exit wound, and spatter might match all the hallmarks of a man seeing no other way out after committing treason. But it didn’t fit.

Kyle stepped to his side and bent down, just enough to look at the photos and Simon could see him working through it, too. He knew he would. “Staged. Someone else pulled the trigger. Held the gun beneath his chin while he hoped he could talk his way out of it.”

Simon nodded. Kyle had put the pieces faster than he had, but Simon knew he would.

Johnny was quick to take his place on Simon’s other side, reaching over him to click through a few pictures. “Is Makarov in the States?”

Simon glanced back at the picture before shaking his head. “We would have heard. Laswell wouldn’t’ve let ‘im slip by like that.”

Kyle’s mouth pulled into a thin line as he stood straight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then there’s another problem.”

Simon almost hated that he was right. All of this just meant it was even more complicated than they had previously thought. And it already was a fucking nightmare. “There’s another person on the inside.”

Kyle grimaced. “Covering their tracks.”

Price walked in, half-empty glass of whisky in his hand and eyed them all. “So you see it, too?”

“Seems like it. Wasn’t acting alone.”

“I have no doubt Laswell saw it, too.” The glass clinked as Price set it down on the window ledge. “But she’s playing it quietly. No confirmation on anything else until she has answers.”

Simon knew that was the wisest way to do this but it still grated at him.

“How high does this go?” Kyle asked. Simon could feel the rage radiating off of him. But he always kept a tighter leash on it than Simon did. It was something Simon respected about him, one of the many, actually. And it was why he trusted him so implicitly in and out of the field.

Johnny frowned and then turned abruptly toward Kyle. “The lass’ flat was untouched, wasn’t it? When ye went to get her stuff?”

Kyle nodded. “Everything seemed fine. Wasn’t exactly looking for cameras though.”

Simon nodded, too. And everything had been in its place. He wondered how long it had taken her to make it feel comfortable. Not home, exactly. But a place she knew she could rest her head, like his flat in Manchester.

“But that bastard knew her name, no? Nearly killed her at the hospital in London. Why would he leave her flat alone?”

Simon chewed on that thought. He did know her name. And while there might be other people with her name but Makarov—or at least one of his men—knew she was American. If they’d taken her purse, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine they knew where she lived. But why had her flat been untouched? “Laziness, possibly.”

“And he knew we were hiding her. She wasn’t going home.”

But that small fact was still a glaring part of the picture that someone knew they had been moving her.

“Do we move again?” Johnny asked.

“Moving us now would just confirm that we are here. And if it doesn’t, we are out in the open until we get to the next safehouse.”

“What other options do we have, Captain?” Kyle asked. But Simon didn’t miss the way his eyes went to him first. “She is still an asset and a target. We are still targets and Makarov is in the wind.”

Price leaned forward, mouth pulled into a flat line. “Way I see it, we can move and take our chances or we stay put and get ready.”

They didn’t like running. And the plan had always been to lure Makarov into a trap. Why couldn’t they do that here? And the silent looks between the men seemed to show their quiet agreement.

And then something whispered at the back of Simon’s mind. And then he remembered the curve of her lip. Her smile and the way she simply wanted to see her sister and her baby. “We need to tell her. Get ‘er ready for it.”

Price grimaced but didn’t refute Simon’s logic.

“She deserves to know. She’s in this with us.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look pleased about it. “If you think she can handle it.”

“She will.” Simon had watched her outmaneuver Johnny and fight like hell to live against a trained operative. She could handle a bit of book camp. He knew it.

“And the manager might want to know what’s happening. You seem to know her best, Captain. Want to break the news?” Kyle asked, face straight.

Price sighed.

You were on the last dregs of your matcha when you heard a sharp knock…on the wall. You turned and watched the hidden door open. Simon filled the space, broad shoulders brushing the sides—and no, that didn’t make your mouth water. He wasn’t even wearing any sort of gear, just a hoodie and loose joggers, swapping out the jeans he’d worn to the hospital with you and he looked better than ever. (Shut up!)

“C’mere, yeah?”

You frowned, not expecting the invitation, but stood anyway and let him shuffle you into his room.

It wasn’t that much different than yours. Same color scheme. Same layout. There was just one large, glaring difference. The closet door was open and the entirety was filled with weapons. Mostly guns, but you spied a few knives, too. There were also a few vests, that you surmised were kevlar or something along those lines. It really was a mini arsenal. This hotel kept surprising you.

Gaz and Soap were waiting inside as well and you resisted the urge to think the worst and smiled, feeling it twitch on your face. “Everything okay?” The stretched silence that followed only made your nerves start to fray, like overused yarn.

“Everything’s sorted,” Gaz said, arms folded neatly across his chest. And you wanted to believe him. You did. You could trust him and the others to protect you like they’d done before. But something wasn’t right.

You glanced at Simon, and he was already looking at you over the edge of another surgical mask. Your heart did an embarrassing little leap behind your ribs. And then you looked at Soap. There was a bit of calculation behind those unnervingly blue eyes. “C’mon, Soap. Out with it.”

He smiled, a bit of pink touching his cheeks. But the smile didn’t last long. “We’d like ta teach ye a few things.”

“Things?”

He nodded, overgrown mohawk flopping a bit. “Just in case.”

And those three words had your stomach sinking. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

“It’s just a precaution.”

And that was how you found yourself in the hidden firing range behind another false wall down the hall (apparently you had been right about there being more to your floor than a few rooms on this floor). It was entirely soundproof with a small sparring ring tucked behind it and another wall filled with guns and other weapons. No wonder the manager seemed so sure she could protect you. Kyle was patient as he adjusted your grip on the small handgun he said would be a good fit for you and patient still when your arms shook as you focused on the target. You didn’t like guns. But when he pressed, gently and kindly with hints of his megawatt smile, you promised to keep the gun in the drawer beside your bed. They were doing this to protect you. They liked you at least enough to try and give you a fighting chance. This was a kindness.

Soap was next but didn’t last very long. “Would ye like to learn how to make a bomb? Just a wee one.”

“No, thank you.” Jesus Christ.

To your surprise, Price walked into the large room next and then handed you…a crowbar. He taught you a few moves with it, telling you to aim for the neck if need be. “You might lose a gun, miss a moving target. But you can always hit them with that.” Comforting.

Then, to prove his point he turned and waved over Simon, who had been silently watching along the back wall (not that you were always innately aware of where he was in the room).

“Attack her.” The captain waved a hand at you before clapping Simon on the shoulder.

“Let’s not do that,” you said, words falling out of your mouth before you could think of something else to say.

Simon, however, stepped closer and held his hands up a bit, as if he were making sure you knew he was unarmed. That wasn’t exactly comforting. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d never ‘urt ya.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and you felt every syllable wash over you. He wouldn’t hurt you but he was trusting you to swing at him with a goddamn crowbar. He trusted you. They trusted you.

Straightening your shoulders, you tightened your grip on the crowbar.

And then he moved. No one that big should be able to move that quickly—it didn’t seem fair—and you were flat on your back. You swallowed the lump in your still sore throat as you looked up at him.

“Try again,” Price called out.

So you did. Again and again. You managed to clock Simon in the arm exactly once and earned a round of applause from the other men, all of them decidedly ignoring that you were supposed to be aiming for the neck. Your arms and legs were screaming at you (again) by the time Price called him off.

“Ye did good, bonnie,” Soap said with another smile. “Proud of ye.”

Oh god, you were going to cry. Tears stung and your battered throat ached with the effort to hold them back as you handed the crowbar back to Price with an uneven smile. “Thanks for keeping me alive.”

“Fair play,” Gaz said, clapping you on the shoulder. “Kept Soap alive. Kept us from eating through the house. You’ve been good to us.”

You cleared your throat, trying to swallow down the emotions. They didn’t need to see all that. “Just trying to-”

“Earn your keep?” Price asked, blue eyes near twinkling. “None of tha’. You’ve done more than enough.”

It wasn’t many words but you didn’t think Price was a man who used flowery prose or words to anyone. But that didn’t stop it from meaning the world to you. How many times has someone said you’d done enough? You could probably count them on one hand. So, you simply nodded and murmured, “yeah, sure. Anytime.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price eventually trickled out, leaving you and Simon alone in the large room. “C’mere.”

You walked to his side, a strange jittery exhaustion pulling at the edges of your mind.

“I want to show ya how to get out of a few ‘olds. Yeah?”

Like the guy who’d try to strangle you back at the safehouse. This training made sense—and no matter how well you (didn’t) shoot or swung a crowbar, you felt like this bit was more practical. And you felt safe with Simon. Simon with his dark, warm eyes and rough hands.

He led you through a few grapples and moves to break a stranglehold—he never aggravated your throat, his grip gentle if not bordering on nonexistent. He even muttered something about getting you more cream when you finished.

As strange as it was—he was pretending to strangle you—you never felt unsafe with him. Not when he came up behind you. Not when he charged forward. Not when he bent you across a bench and coached you through how to maneuver around it while your neck was tucked into the corner of his bent elbow. Never.

“You did good. But I want ya to do better, olright?” He asked as you broke another hold.

You nodded and then the broad expanse of his palm was dragging across your throat and he was pushing you back back back until your spine collided with the padded wall behind you. You tried to ignore how your chest brushed his with every breath you took. The attempt flew right out the window when he wedged a firm thigh between yours.

“Remember whot I told ya.”

Right. Focus. You turned in his loose hold and shot your arm up, remembering the move he’d taught you earlier. But he must’ve moved or you did something incredibly wrong (more likely of the two options) because when you turned to drive your arm down, meaning to break his hold, your finger caught on something and it snapped against your palm.

You watched, a little confused, as Simon’s mask dangled uselessly off one of his ears. A scar, old and jagged, stretched from one corner of his mouth up to his ear. Another bisected it on his cheek. More scars twisted across his mouth and down his chin and-

You smacked a hand over your eyes. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you more masks. I-”

A now-familiar hand, gently pried your hand away from your eyes but you still kept them closed. He wore a mask for a reason. You weren’t about to betray him like that, even if it was an accident. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t!

“You can look. ‘S fine.”

“Not fine.” Eyes still closed.

“I’m saying ‘s fine.” But it was the gentle swipe of his thumb against your cheek that had your eyes slowly opening again. He meant it.

You watched, almost transfixed, as Simon reached up and unhooked the other side of the small mask. The simple act had your heart leaping and racing beneath the cage of your ribs. Your fingers shook with every bit of skin now exposed to you. He had scars. Some big, some small. And you had been correct in thinking his nose had been broken before but you liked how it sat, a little crookedly, on his face. His brown eyes didn’t move away from you as he shoved the small mask into his pocket.

Your hand raised and then froze, uselessly hanging in the air between you. It had been a selfish want to touch him. You hadn’t asked and he hadn’t given permission. Shouldn’t it be enough that he trusted you with this?

Before you could apologize or try to covertly play off why your hand was halfway to his face, Simon reached out and his thick, scarred fingers circled your wrist in a gentle grip and he dragged your hand up up up. The tremor in your hand ceased as soon as your fingers brushed against the warm skin of his cheek. Your thumb traced against the scar that cut from the corner of his mouth and up toward his ear. A cruel slash. And he was so handsome.

Your heart ached when you felt him press a little more into the warmth of your palm. His long blond eyelashes fanned against his cheek as his eyes closed. He was so beautiful.

“Simon.” His name was a prayer. A promise.

He moved closer, the heat of his body bleeding across yours.

And then his mouth brushed yours. It wasn’t a true kiss. Not yet. Just his lips, scarred and cold, against yours. But you kissed him, pressing your lips against his with an embarrassing insistence that you couldn’t stop. But the embarrassment did not get a chance to fester, not with how his large hands framed your face and you could feel him smile.

“Olright?” He murmured as he pulled back the slightest bit, letting his large hands smooth lightly down the sides of your neck to rest over your shoulders, warm and heavy.

Your heart fluttered. He cared. “Yeah. This is good. Y-you’re good.”

His thumb and finger hooked your chin and he tilted your face toward his again.

Next Chapter

A/N: Thanks, again, for reading! Your comments mean the world to me and really keep me motivated.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |10|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: Threats of Murder

Word Count: 1.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Tara’s eyes darted around the park; she had her hands shoved in her pockets, so she’d stop fiddling with her jacket. She was the one who told you to go with Gale, she assured you that everything was going to be fine, she was sure of that, at least at the time she was. She was right next to Sam, Kirby was in a van with Chad, Mindy, and Ethan close by, and Bailey was sitting on a bench not too far away, they were all connected so they could hear the call from Ghostface when it came in. But you weren’t here, Tara came so close to losing you in the apartment and now you weren’t here, you were halfway across town.

“They’ll be okay,” Sam said. Tara shook her head, getting out of her mind as she gave her sister a questioning look. “They’ll be fine.” Tara nodded; she looked down at the pathway as they continued their walk. “They’re with Gale, they’re perfectly safe.”

Tara couldn’t help but scoff at that. She didn’t think Gale would let anything happen to you, despite everything, Gale did care about you. Still, even without Ghostface lurking around every corner Tara didn’t like the idea of you being alone with Gale. Gale has already hurt you so much, no amount of groveling will ever change that, Tara just didn’t want you to get hurt again.

“Gale won’t let anything happen to them,” Sam assured. “She’s survived, what, nine of these assholes? Being by Gales side is honestly probably the safest place to be.”

Tara let out a huff at that. Gale had survived many attacks, had been stabbed plenty of times herself, she was also an investigative reporter. Basically, besides Sidney Prescott, there was no one better prepared to deal with Ghostface. Hell, the only gift Gale every gave you ended up being a gun, Tara didn’t even want to know what Gale kept for herself back at her place.

“I just…” Tara sighed. “I don’t like this. We’re out in the open,” Tara looked around the park. It was broad daylight, there were people all around them. Not that any of that ever-stopped Ghostface before, this new Ghostface chased them down and didn’t even hesitate to shoot up a bodega filled with people.

“I just need the call to last fifteen seconds,” Kirby said through the earpiece. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”

“We’re ready,” Sam said.

Tara could feel Sam’s concerned gaze on her. “It’s a good plan,” Sam assured. “We’ll be fine.” Sam rested a hand on Tara’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. Tara smiled up at her sister, despite their issues and despite what Sam might believe she was actually pretty good at comforting her.

“It feels like we’re missing something.” Tara looked back, there were people jogging, couples going for a walk, people playing catch, families having a picnic. Everything was completely normal; it was insane to think all these people were going about their normal lives while they were stuck trying to trap a psychotic killer who wanted them dead for some messed up reason.

Tara pulled out her phone, she opened her recent messages with you for comfort. You sent a simple good luck text instantly followed by an I love you just as Tara and Sam had gotten out of the van to start their walk around the park. Tara had instantly sent an I love you back.

She had been away from you plenty of times, she went to school, you went to work, she even went to parties without you, but she hadn’t been away from you since the attacks started. Last year every time the two of you were separated one of you, mostly you, got hurt, she wouldn’t be able to handle something happening to you while she was out trying to catch Ghostface.

She tried to just focus on the walk, all they had to do was walk around the park and keep Ghostface talking, which in theory shouldn’t be too hard, Ghostface really loved to talk. As if on cue Sam’s phone rang, Tara felt her entire body tense at the sound. They had left it on ring so they could be ready for when Ghostface called. As soon as Sam pulled the phone out of her pocket Tara looked over her shoulder to see the call said it was coming from Richie.

“You’re going to die you know,” Sam said as she answered the phone.

Tara kept her eyes open, her head constantly moving back and forth, trying to spot anything unusual. When looking for something out of the ordinary though everything seemed out of the ordinary. There were dozens of people walking around on their phones, any one of them could be Ghostface, or more likely none of them were and Ghostface was off somewhere they couldn’t even see.

“No, you’re going to die Samantha,” Ghostface’s voice came through the phone. Tara tried to ignore the chill that ran down her spine, as hard as she tried to ignore it, she would never be able to get that damn voice out of her head. “Choking on your own blood while I hack up your sister.”

Tara slowed her pace and looked at Sam, it wasn’t the first time a Ghostface threatened either of them, but it never made it easy to hear. “Unless we find you first,” Sam said.

“For a mastermind you’re not very bright,” Ghostface sighed, almost like he was disappointed in them. “Waiting for me to call, desperately hoping I’m nearby so the police can grab me.” Tara’s looked all around, there was no way for Ghostface to know their exact plan unless he was right there, watching them. “But I’m not nearby, I’m a step ahead. I’ll be seeing you, Samantha.”

Sam slowly came to a stop, her brow furrowed as she looked around. Tara mimicked the look, there was some threatening but that wasn’t the typical Ghostface call, they were missing something.

“Oh, Tara,” Ghostface added before hanging up. Tara’s eyes shot to Sam’s, somehow Ghostface knew that not only was Tara right there but that she could also hear him. “I do hope you said your goodbyes.” Tara furrowed her brow as she looked down at the phone. “Because I sure do intend on making them suffer.” The call ended with Ghostface’s sinister chuckle.

“Wh-what does that mean?” Tara asked, searching her sister for answers.

“Did you get it?” Sam asked, completely ignoring Tara’s question.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Yep, coming through right now,” Kirby answered Sam, everyone still seeming to ignore Tara’s worry. “He’s on the upper west side.” Tara could hear the confusion in her voice, that was nowhere near where they currently were. “He’s in an apartment.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “On West 96th?” Tara asked.

“How did you know that?”

Tara didn’t bother answering Kirby’s question, she was already pulling out her phone. She tapped your name and brought the phone to her ear, speed walking her way out of the park. She was aware of Sam following behind her, but she wasn’t about to wait up. “Pick up, pick up,” she mumbled to herself. “Pick up the fucking phone,” she gritted her teeth.

“Hey,” you answered, the sound of your voice instantly making Tara relax but she didn’t slow down. “What happened?”

“Ghostface is there!”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about? What…” Your words trailed off, Tara looked around frantically, she needed to find a way to get to you.

“Y/N?” she asked. “Y/N?” she looked down to see the call had been disconnected. “Fuck!” she quickly tapped your name again; she was going to keep calling until she could see you safe and sound for herself. The call just rang, until she eventually got your voicemail. “Fuck!”

She gripped her hair as her eyes scanned the street, she didn’t even know what she was searching for until her eyes landed on Bailey’s car. She didn’t hesitate to run towards the car, flinging open the driver’s side door. Tara didn’t even have time to enjoy the fact that not only was the car unlocked but the keys were also tucked up in the sun visor. Tara tapped your name again, putting it on speaker but once again it just continued to ring.

“Sam!” Tara called out, interrupting whatever she was saying to Bailey. “Get in!” Sam’s eyes widened but she didn’t hesitate to run over and hop in the car.

Tara rolled up the windows and ignored Bailey’s orders to get out of the car. She clicked the button, locking the doors before he could get to them. She didn’t care if Bailey was a cop, she didn’t care if this was a cop car she was stealing, nothing was going to stop her from getting to you.

“Keep trying,” she said, handing Sam her phone.

Sam did as asked and redialed your number once again. The ringing filled the inside of the car as Tara flipped on the sirens and sped out into traffic. She weaved in and out of the cars as they moved out of her way, pressing her foot harder on the gas as the ringing ended, only for Sam to try calling you again.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrryxcx @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

@riyaexee

[thanyatargaryen]

Surprise My Love

Ok I'm trying to do this for the first time because I'm not used to creative writing and if you see this and you have any ideas please let me know.

Rating: PG

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

You have been in LA more often creating content for your Youtube channel and you started hearing rumors in social media that you were dating an older man. At the same time the heartthrob Pedro Pascal was seen more often in LA spending time with a secret someone. The situation spiked the paparazzi lenses taking pictures of him talking with someone in a coffee shop often or having secret encounters with a person in secluded restaurants.

Funny enough, you were indeed dating an older man... Pedro Pascal whom you met a few months ago at the announcement of The Fantastic Four: First Steps at San Diego Comic Con. You were recording and interview for your channel since you had an agreement with Marvel for promotion. The situation was funny since you both were able to jock around and the vibe was so carefree even after the age difference. The vibe was in high levels between you to that even Vanessa Kirby noticed and invited you to the after dinner event and that how it all started.

Throughout the night you were talking about everything and nothing with Pedro. The conversation was so light hearted talking about your childhood in your home country and his childhood and how he used to go to the movies with his dad, living with his siblings mostly Javiera. His jobs and the first time you saw some of his work, the books both like to read and the movies you watch to disconnect from the world. Even after dinner you kept talking outside the restaurant and he asked your number to keep in touch. You could feel the cold breeze of the sea near the restaurant and your cheeks getting hotter by the second as you took your phone and exchanged numbers. You saved your number on his phone with your name and he being cheeky saved his as Z. Pascal which you knew what it meant and made you giggle. Pedro offered to take you home or order a cab for you but you declined since you had parked your car at a nearby hotel.

After that, you exchanged numbers with Vanessa with whom you had a great connection throughout the interview and dinner. She was asking question about your work as content creator and how it all started with your youtube channel. You explained how you had always wanted to do content creation and how much it took you to actually take a leap of faith on yourself and actually do it. She was amazed on your trajectory from being a student and all the work you did with your family and as a university teacher while taking classes making life a bit harder. She was amazed and asked what was to do in San Diego you gave her a list and she was interested in many places to visit.

Time ran out and you all ended your night around 2 am as the valet got your car you were playing with your phone and a text came through "Are you free tomorrow night?" P. It made you smile and right at the moment you were going to answer your car arrived. You got in after giving a tip to the valet and fixing your seat. The car felt warm but it wasn't the car it was you feeling happy after the text. As you start driving you make the call answering "I'm free after 5 pm tomorrow" :) and that was how you got your first "date".

It was a quick dinner at the hotel restaurant where he as staying, a sushi bar and you got to talk even more about what you do and what you like to do. The date was full little touches on each other, knee, hand, shoulder, arm you name it. the night ended around 10 pm. "I appreciate you taking the time to have dinner with me, even though I'm not often on the west coast I would like to keep talking if you feel like it." You were completely surprised and over the moon you took a big gulp and looked at him "I appreciate the invitation, i had a great time and I hope we keep talking too. If you ever want to come to San Diego i can be you and your family's personal tour guide." He closes on you and kisses your hand like a gentleman "I will take that offer for sure and i hope to see you after we come back from filming."

"Are you going straight to filming after the con?"

"Yes we are going to Spain as i finish a few things for Gladiator "

"Wow well i hope to her from you soon and take care it was an amazing and beautiful dinner."

"I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed the night because i did too." Right at that moment your car got to the valet, Pedro opened your door and waved goodbye.

Months passed and at this point you were biting your nails at the airport on your way to Malta to visit Pedro. It was your first time doing something so crazy as this. You could see a few people walking around and a few groups of teenagers and college age people looking at you. Out off nowhere you feel a hand on your shoulder and they as "Hello, I'm sorry to bother you but i was was talking with my friends and we think you look like this Youtuber that does interviews to people from Hollywood and things like that..."

"OH! Yes it's me." that answer brought a group of 15y/o asking for a group pic when you hear your flight getting called for second time which was a bad thing. The group was going nuts that if they wanted individual pics or group. "Why don't we ask someone to take a picture with your phone and then i reposted on my stories... it will be nice to have it before i get into the plane." That is when they all agreed and someone took the picture, at least 20 teens were scattered on the floor and smiling which made you happy since it was your job that brought so many people together and this is proof of it.

After the picture gets taken the last call comes through and to take the people and run to the plane almost not making it. I that's weird to think that since you had been at the airport 3 hours prior to your flight. You were nervous about how impetuous this decision was for you. After talking with John (Quinn) and getting the surprise for Pedro this was the only way the surprise could happen. You apologized to the flight attendants for the delay and go to your seat, the crew makes all the safety checks and talk to the passengers. Straight after that you get your earbuds on and try to forget not to be anxious for 16 hours. You started watching a show on netflix for a few hours, then a 1 hour nap and then read your book for the last 4 hours of your flight arriving to Malta around 1:30 pm.

It took about 30 minutes to get through customs and pick up your luggage since you had done customs online at the kiosk after you got off the plane. By 2 pm John had a car waiting for you and when you get picked up the jitters start on your belly. While arriving to the hotel you get a note from the people at checking it is from John "We are having lunch and the car that picked you up will take you there" Johnny Boy. Giggling you get taken to your room where you change your clothes to a nice flowy dress and flats. You run to the elevator and down to the car where the driver took you to that little restaurant near the beach. John had sent a text with his location for you to find them easier when you arrived. The driver gets to the main entrance of the restaurant and the hostess takes you to the main path towards the isolated tend where Paul, John, Pedro and Fred were eating.

You were so happy to see Pedro even from afar, you saw John taking a selfie and what bette moment to surprise him than with a hug. You sneaked up on the small group and stood behind Pedro. He was weird out because he could smell your perfume and that's when you lean into him and whisper "Hello General." Pedro is speechless and all the guys are taking pictures, he stands up and hugs you tight while you wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him. "This is indeed a good surprise my lady."

I hope you like it and please let me know what else i could do to improve my writing.

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

I wonder if we should ever make a pronouns.cc… That is the one that allows you to make multiple lists, right? Could be helpful given the Several Of Us.

[gobstoppr]

ohhhh ok my bad. hey waddle dee is it just me or is now a Great time to eat a Delicious Gem Apple 🍎

so, star-crossed world has these crystals right. and super kirby clash does too. and return to dreamland deluxe canonized super kirby clash. alright. alright

[kirbyofthestars]

honestly considering the sheer extent of how much kirby supplementary media just straight up doesn’t get localized i think we’d ought to take a moment to appreciate the work this fandom’s translators do - manga, anime, light novels, interviews, artbooks, guidebooks, manuals, any nuances in the games’ original jp text that might’ve gotten lost in translation, all of it. we are in your debt, thank y’all so much 🩷

[sweetandglovelyart]

Are there any other Kirby fans on here who are also fans of Star Trek? I’ve met a couple of people on here who like both, but I’m trying to see if there’s anyone else.

I’m a big fan of Star Trek and I actually see a lot of parallels between Kirby and Star Trek (some examples of this are they both have mirror versions of the characters and the plot of Planet Robobot is just the plot of every Borg episode from Star Trek). I also like to include Star Trek references in my Kirby fanart (like making a reference to the Vulcan philosophy IDIC/Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations in my Meta Knight backstory comic) and I was wondering if anyone else in the fandom likes to do stuff like that in their art or writing. Where are all of the Kirby Trekkies at lmao ����