#like its okay to un mask and just be

[himbos-hotline]

*stares at my tumblr mutuals* these are the bitches I pulled by with my autistic swag

[targaryenluvs]

— ALL MINE

pairing - prowler!miles morales x reader, miles morales x reader

summary - whilst on the run, your boyfriend miles and yourself were taken home. although your hometown is not as it seems. with a shadow clinging to your every move, will you make it out of this universe? part two - not yours

warnings - possessive!prowler miles, he’s like low key delulu, swearing, violence.

notes - i am absolutely in love with prowler miles. THE BRAIDS HAVE A CHOKEHOLD ON ME. sorry if this seems to resemble other fics but i just wanted to do my lil version since all the others are half way done :P and i’m writing again since i’m in the holidays :) also idk if miles can make people invisible but for the sake of this text yes he can. also big fancy words idk if i used em correctly. comment for p2!!!! also pushing the 42miles calling his girl ma agenda 😘

wordcount: 2.1K

you had to catch your breath.

you’d never been the most athletic person in p.e and it certainly wasn’t going to change then and it certainly won’t now. but as miles eggs you on to keep moving you ignore all the un-athletic bones in your body and push yourself to keep running.

as you reach your destination miles grabs your hand and the two of you creep your way inside. miles begins to mess around with computers as margo tried her hardest with the help of lyla to figure out what on earth was going on.

as miles scanned his eyes he pulled you into his arms, “you okay?” he asked as you nodded, “for now, as long as miguel-”

and to your luck he barrelled through the doors at the exact moment you uttered his name. “bloody mary much?” you muttered under your breath as you took a step back.

and as he clawed and fought his way in your hand tightened its grip on miles’s. “it’s okay, he’s not getting in y/n/n. it’s okay.” and as he reassured you to the best of his abilities you couldn’t help but feel grateful. he always put you first, no matter what.

always made sure you and his family were okay.

and his reassurance managed to calm you down as margo looked up at the two of you, her finger hovering over the reboot button but as she looked between the miles and you, she couldn’t help but aid the two of you. as miles pulled his mask over his face, you saw the pure rage painted over miguel’s face and you couldn’t help your indignation towards the man.

but you didn’t see him for long as the pair of you were sucked out of the room and travelling at the speed of light (or so it seemed) to freedom.

the lights were harsh on your eyes.

as you adjusted to the luminosity of the neon signs you looked to your right to see miles on the floor.

“miles? miles!” you rushed over and rolled his body over as he coughed, “i’m okay, i’m okay. how about you?” you smiled, “i’m fine babe. we made it, we made it home miles.” you cried as you engulfed him in a hug.

he smiled as he reciprocated, “thanks to you y/n. but we needa get goin okay?” you nodded as you stood and helped him up by his arms.

“hold on tight.”

you’d honestly forgotten how nice the cold air felt on your face. the thrill of swinging through the city, passing people by as they stared in wonder, slinging by and grabbing a few treats on the way, yours and miles’s normal routine almost everyday in the past six months. you never knew you could miss a place so much.

but being with the spider society and being at the HQ managed to make you deeply homesick.

as you neared miles’s home you felt a weight being lifted off of your chest.

you were almost there.

you had gotten home in time.

you’d save mr morales, be allowed to call him jeff and his wife rio, miles would have his father, he’d continue being spider-man, the two of you would move to new jersey (fingers crossed), miles would study something new (seeing as the two of you have had your fill of other universes in the past few days), you’d study journalism, you’d get your own place, travel, live and love.

together.

as you got to his rooms window you held on to the ledge as miles opened the window and carefully guided you in. you’d never expected to feel so elated at seeing his single bed, his action figures and posters, everything. but as you entered, the waves of fatigue messed with your head to the point where you managed to overlook the contents of his room.

you were so exhausted you didn’t even manage to make it to the bed and relaxed in-front of it in the corner. as you looked around you couldn’t help but frown. it looked, different.

some things were missing such as all the posters and figurines. you chalked it up to mrs morales packing them away perhaps, or miles moving them to his own place.

as you slowly drifted off you missed the creak of the door opening.

rio walked through the door with her laundry basket clung to her hip.

miles turned around quickly, relieved to see his mother. “ah mom, you don’t know how happy i am to see you.” rio furrowed her eyebrows as her son ran over to smother her in a tight hug. it’d been so long since he’d acted so.

and was his hair out?

he seemed shorter too.

what on earth has this boy been up to?

as he rambled on explaining himself she couldn’t help but smile. he seemed so, innocent. before everything, before the pain, before the loss, before it all happened, before he changed, permanently, before her.

“miles, i think it’s cute your into uh what’s it called cosplay? you one of them comics-con kids?”

“what’s that? i- no, this isn’t cosplay ma.”

as she walks into another room miles stands frozen as his uncle aaron walks into the home. albeit a different version of his uncle aaron but it doesn’t change the way miles’s hands are sweating, his heart threatening to implode.

as aaron rested a pile of cash on the table miles stared in awe. “you ready to go miles? damn you took your braids out? what’s going on man?” he joked as he walked to the door his hand gesturing miles to follow along. “yeah lemme just grab something and i’ll be there.”

miles shook you awake and asked you to follow along but not too closely.

you were perplexed as to why but followed along nonetheless. as you made it to the door you saw aaron in-front of miles. and suddenly something came at miles, knocking him out.

you ran to him, “miles! shit, are you okay?” you felt your chest tighten as he didn’t respond, his finger tips twitched yet he was unresponsive. “fuck what the hell did you do aaron?”

aaron couldn’t believe his eyes.

how- what?

you were there. sitting, cradling miles’s body in your arms as you stared up at him.

alive.

“y/n?”

it was a whisper. but you caught it. “no i’m the fuckin sun. yes it’s y/n.” you said as you continued to inspect miles, looking for any signs of injury.

“you want her too?”

your head snapped up as you heard aaron speak again, he was looking behind you and you honestly didn’t have the energy to see someone else right now but as you looked back you wished this was a bad dream.

the prowler.

he stood tall, not as tall as aaron but at least a few inches more so than miles. his suit was a little different, his claws sharper and his mask. he nodded towards aaron, yes.

it was as frightening as aaron’s. aaron. if he was right infront of you you then who the hell was thi-

your head was throbbing so much, but you were currently being tended to. or, you thought you were. someone was lightly dabbing a wet cloth on your forehead, your head was supported by something, it was nice.

when you built the strength to open your eyes you saw miles. “arriba mi vida.” you squinted. “what?” you saw a slight smile on his face, “try to get up.” miles wrapped his hand around your neck, cradling it as you attempted to get up.

you rested against the cold wall as you took in the environment around you. “where are we?” you asked miles as you tried focusing your eyes, you swore you saw the outline of someone tied to a, was that a boxing bag? the light from the window behind them illuminated their outline, their face left unknown.

“shh, está bien y/n.”

“miles you know i cant speak spanish that well.”

“i’m sorry, i forgot. you feelin’ okay ma?”

as you were about to respond the body tied to the bag started to move and mumble, causing you to actually realise that someone was tied up. your eyes were adjusted now and as you looked around and settled on miles’s face you couldn’t help but frown.

“since when do you wear braids miles? and do you honestly think this is the right time to try out a new hair style?” you questioned as he got up, “you don’t like my braids? you use to do em all the time ma.”

your eyebrows furrowed as the body finally came into focus, and you saw-

miles?

you slowly rose from your spot on the floor and looked back and forth from both miles’s. the one in front of you had a certain way to him. his shoulders straightened, taller than usual, hardened face, he seemed so, formal.

whilst your miles was a sloucher most times, not short but he didn’t tower over everyone, usually with a smile donning his face and always easy going.

“i- you.” the words scrambled out and you had no idea what was going on. all you knew was that you needed to get out of here. as you walked towards what you had assumed to be your miles, other miles grabbed your hand and yanked you back.

“whatchu doing?”

“i was seeing my miles. what are you doing? why did you tie him up?”

“can’t exactly have someone running around my streets with my face now can i?”

“okay, i understand that miles but you need to let me go. we need to get back to our universe otherwise mr morales is gonna- and we can’t let that happen you know that. untie him. please.”

“why would i do that shit? what’s so special about him? why does he get to have everything so good? his school, his friends, his family- you.” other miles was getting a little too close for your liking and you found yourself backed up against the wall. not a great position to be in when completely helpless and tired as hell against someone who could probably throw you across the room.

his hand came to your face as he pushed away a stray strand of hair from your eyes. “i- did we- did you date someone like me?”

“not someone like you ma, i dated you.”

“no you dated another version of me. that’s not me, that’s her, wherever she is i’m sure she missed you and if you picked up the phone and called-”

“she’s dead.”

your eyes widened, “i- i’m sorry for you. and for her. i’m sure you loved her a lot but, i’m not her. you’re not my miles, my miles is right there. and i love him. please you have to let us- me go. y/n wouldn’t have wanted this for you i’m sure of it.”

“you gonna tell me she wanted me to be happy?”

“uh i’d assume she wanted that for you. i’m sure you guys were amazing together miles.” you smiled as you tried to suppress your fear. it was hard to, you could feel it slowly creeping in, the miles in front of you was hypnotising, his eyes were warm so warm you could feel them burning into yours. he was absolutely gorgeous, the soft glow from the night life outside highlighting his face. he was so gorgeous it was insane as well as scary. he took your breath away, the same way your miles did.

“we were, and we will be again.”

“i’m not so sure you can bring people back from the dead. i understand you miss her but you need to let her go and move on. speaking of moving on miles and i should be moving on back to our universe so if you would so kindly-”

“i got her right here ma.”

his grip on your hand tightened as he somehow got closer. all the air had apparently hopped out of the room since you felt your chest tighten.

“no me dejarás de nuevo mi vida. your staying with me, here.”

“You won’t leave me again my life.”

“stop it, i understand you’re hurting but please just-” you tried with all your strength to push him away but his feet were planted firmly into the floor, as still as a statue and you couldn’t help but cry.

you’d escaped one place to be potentially imprisoned in another.

“shh, shh y/n/n. i got you right here.” he held you as you sobbed, praying your miles would wake up soon and save the two of you.

as miles held onto you he couldn’t help but feel his tensions and sorrow seep into the floor as he held you again after all this time and as he did he couldn’t help but whisper,

“you’re mine mi amor,

all mine.”

[nat-ter]

ok. hear me out. batman and superman having petty rivalry. not bcus they actually hate each other but bcus there's a little misunderstanding going on between them.

the first time they met, superman wanted to impress the other hero (bcus yayy a new friend!) so he might have tried a bit too hard to look impressive to batman by putting on a more confident front than he generally feels.

batman has heard of the new hero in town (or the next one over wtv) and ofc there's this superhuman being who literally shoots laser out of his eyes not to mention the flying thing so in the most batman way possible, he's immediately cautious. and then comes this obnoxious alien to batman's own turf introducing himself as if he expects bruce to bow down to his feet and sing his praises just bcus he can, what, breathe ice? never! so begins the hostility. which took superman by surprise bcus here he comes, looking for partnership, maybe even friendship, but instead getting rude and obnoxious short replies in return.

first time superman is questioned his thoughts on the dark knight, he's honestly taken aback bcus since he hasn't had any contact with the other hero in the public's eye he didn't think ppl would ask him questions about gotham's bat. so, a bit flustered clark kent, in a very un-superman-like way, blurts out, "oh, that. i heard he's human." immediately after which he has to leave the scene bcus there was a tsunami somewhere. and so he unwittingly sets out the verbal war.

next time batman is questioned about his thoughts on superman, instead of leaving without any comment like he usually did, this time he stays and boy does he have something to say. or not, according to his words. but he did say smth and that highly contradicts his own words. "i have nothing to say about a twat in a primary colour who doesn't even know where undergarments go." and so officially begins the war.

clark hates batman bcus he thinks the man is a xenophobe (except he has seen batman interacting with other superbeings just fine and some of them may be meta but still it stings that he's the only one being treated with such hostility). bruce hates superman bcus he thinks the alien is looking down on him for being human with its shortcomings and hey this is a touchy subject for him okay back off. but neither of them actually never make any contact apart from trashing each other to the press whenever they can.

at first it was only pointed remarks that portrayed their distrust for each other like:

"at the end of the day what is batman but a furry with anger issues finding an outlet in the dark?"

"next time, maybe superman should use his ego to topple one of metropolis' finest buildings instead of himself. surely that will get the job done quicker."

but the longer it goes on, the more the two heroes enjoy themselves. and eventually the remarks grows more petty and childish and nothing like what two grown men who fight crimes should even say about each other.

"batman is probably hideous, maybe that's why he wears a mask that only shows the more attractive part of his face."

"who is to say there isn't ugly tentacle-like creatures hiding behind that pristine, god-like face."

unfortunately the longer the war wages, the more it sounds like the two of them are merely flirting in a backhanded way. which drives alfred and martha up the walls. alfred swears that he will leave the manor and maybe become a vegabond if he has to witness master bruce making a fool out of himself by pulling the proverbial ponytail in the playground any longer. martha is mad that her son has supposedly forget all the manners she had painstakingly grilled into him (she demands that clark immediately make peace with the bat but clark is so busy he doesn't even have time to visit his own ma lately and no it's not bcus he's afraid of the disappointed face™ nope. never).

it went from:

"i hardly think batman believes he's above the law, no, rather he believes that he is the law." (which is simply wrong, in bruce's opinion. no, he likes to think that he's operating outside of the law while perfectly abiding to it. alfred finds it dubious but it isn't like bruce will listen to him anyway)

and,

"just because superman can fly, he thinks he's above us. i hardly think any god would run at the sight of a green rock." (which is also wrong, in clark's opinion. he has never run from a fight even when kryptonite is present. lois can seconded it even though she wishes he does run as fast as he can)

to:

"maybe batman should smile more, that'll make him much more attra— i mean, approachable. which, i understand, will dispel the whole dark and broody and bat-themed performance he's got going on, of course, but im just saying, you know, the guy's got a pretty nice chin and—" ("clark!" hissed lois who's hiding among the people superman has just rescued from a burning building, only for superman's ears and shutting the man right up)

and,

"people only trust superman because he's so stupidly handsome." ("wow, B, didn't expect batman to come out like that," sarcastically comments nightwing in batman's comm. batman growls)

it's driving everyone insane. alfred is ready to take a very long, a very well earned vacation, lois wants his best friend to get laid, martha is working up a rant and the two heroes can't seem to figure out their stance on the idea of one another.

[fish-eat-fish]

⋆ Gwen x f!reader ⋆ Sleep ⋆

request: @hyunslvvr can u pls do one for f!reader x gwen where they have a day in and they just stay in bed:)

tags: fluff, comfort, wlw, cuddling

word count: 2.1k

a/n: im paving away at requests rn, this one had me kicking my feet i LOVE gwen stacy _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR REQUESTING FOR HER, another one for the gays <3

✰✰✰

Un unbelievable stack of homework and two essays due. You couldn’t believe it. The sunlight beamed through your window and shined onto your desk, papers covering its surface as you tiredly scribbled on your assignment papers. Friday night and you had nothing better to do than weekend homework, how miserable. You sighed, tapping mindlessly on your desk when a buzz from your phone interrupted you. Picking it up, you smiled seeing it was Gwen.

It read, “on the way, open ur window!”

You sighed at the words, setting down your pencil and getting up out of your chair to unlock your window. Gwen had a bad habit of breaking in when she wanted to. You’d already assured her your family was okay with her visiting, preferably through the front door. But she always insisted that it was easier this way. Socializing seemed to sometimes stress her out you noticed.

Unlocking your window with a click, you raised it open, taking a nice breather as cold air blew in. The sunset was particularly nice today, and you didn’t quite mind seeing your favorite person right now. Sitting on your bed, you spiffed up your room for Gwen, making the bed and cleaning your cluttered desk. Just as you were about to exit your room to go and grab some snacks, a few knocks on your window sill signaled that your girlfriend had arrived. You turned around and beamed.

“Hey, sorry for the late notice.” She apologized, sitting on your window sill and climbing down from it. Taking off her white mask, Gwen sat down on your bed, crashing down on it. Until she rose up again.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Thank you for remembering.” You teased. Watching her take off her beaten-up shoes, and carefully placing them near the window on the floor. She let out a huff, flopping back onto your bed. Gwen’s suit was a little damaged and scratched. She looked tired.

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I…?” She asked. It was obvious that she felt guilty about her visit. But you’d reassured her many times before that your room was always available to her whenever she wanted. And so was your company.

Eyeing the homework on your desk, you declared your study session over. It didn’t matter all that much compared to hanging out with her. “Nope. I’m glad you dropped by actually, I was getting bored.” You explained, looking at Gwen as she folded her legs up on your bed. Gwen awkwardly rubbed her arm as she looked around the room.

“So…”

“Yes.”

She raised her eyebrow, “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “Yes you can sleep over. I don’t mind.”

Gwen smiled at you, relieved. You leaned back against your desk, “I’m glad you’re here.”

She smirked, “What, you missed me?”

“Actually I did, yeah.”

Looking at Gwen, you figured that she didn’t have the best day today, being a crime fighting hero and all. Walking up to her and leaning down, you placed a hand on her cheek and gave her face a quick kiss. She chuckled and peered up at you. You held onto her cheek momentarily, “I’m gonna go and get us some snacks. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Oh uh, I haven’t had the chance yet.”

“Gwen.” You said, sternly.

“I just had to go to band practice, then there was some jerk downtown and-” She spoke quietly, her voice dying down as you stared at her, an irritated look on your face. Gwen sighed and grabbed the back of her neck, her hair falling down to hide her guilty expression.

“Sorry…”

You sighed, smiling at her nonetheless, “I’m gonna go make us some food. Stay put Spider.” Gwen grinned at you, watching you walk out of the room. She took a deep breath, lying down as she observed your room like she always did. She loved the comfort you and your space brought her. Your room was decorated with posters and fairy lights.

Gwen looked around, deciding that she should probably change. It was an unspoken ritual for Gwen to pick out something from your closet. You’d let her do it once, for a sleepover. But ever since, she’d found routine in picking out an outfit of yours for her to wear and potentially keep if given permission.

She walked up to your closet, finding a pair of pajama pants and an oversized tee. She slipped it on as she changed out of her spider suit, carefully tucking it away to where it was out of sight. Just in case. Gwen tugged the shirt towards her face, taking in your scent. Her senses were filled with just you, as she felt at ease.

Walking over to your bed, she noticed a new photo in your little collage of Polaroids. It was from your last hangout. “The Mary Janes Concert–October.” In it, Gwen was holding you by the waist, her drumsticks clasped in her hand. Your arm held her cheek for a kiss, whilst the other held up Gwen’s Polaroid camera. Gwen was laughing as she looked in your direction, feeling proud of your praise of her performance.

That night your throat was so raspy from cheering for her, and Gwen felt absolutely ecstatic as you tackled her after the concert. She was happy to introduce you to her band members after, grabbing you by the hand and speaking with pride to announce you as her one and only girlfriend.

Gwen stared at the Polaroid, taking it in. She smiled and reached out, touching the photo. Moments like these felt surreal, and being reminded that someone as amazing as you were willing to stick by her and be in her life, made her woozy. Gwen loved you a lot.

The door cranked open as you walked in, a plate of sandwiches in one hand, and a mug of freshly brewed tea in your other. You set down the food on your nightstand, glancing at Gwen as she took her hand away from the Polaroid hung up above your bed. You observed her, obsessed with the way she looked in your clothes.

“Being nosy again?”

“Just lookin’ around.” She shrugged, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

You sat down next to her, the bed shifting under your weight. You held out the plate towards her, to which she gratefully accepted. Gwen dug in right away, mumbling incoherent words as she ate. You laughed at this, “I can’t understand you when your chewing, you know that right?” Gwen swallowed her bite and smiled at you, gesturing to her sandwich.

“This is seriously good. I’ll never get tired of your food.”

“Glad you like it.” You grabbed the mug off of the nightstand, passing it to her as she finished the last bite of her sandwich. Chamomile is Gwen’s favorite. You’d made an effort to always keep it in stock for her since she liked to crash at yours a lot. Gwen took it carefully in her hands, blowing on the tea to cool it down.

You grabbed a pillow off of your bed and hugged it to your chest, just quietly watching Gwen as she drank her tea. You gently smiled, as she seemed a little bit more energized now. Grabbing your own mug from the nightstand, you drank it quickly, uncaring of how cold it had gotten. Putting the mug down, you patted the bed. Gwen looked up at you curiously.

“I’m a little tired today, do you wanna…?”

Her eyes widened as she lowered her mug.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind.” She smiled at your offer, shifting off of the bed, and placing her tea on your nightstand. She lifted the covers off of your bed, carefully moving the pillows and occasional stuffed animals off to the side to make room. As Gwen got into the bed, you turned off your main light, allowing the darkness to consume your room. The sun had set long ago now, and it was time to wind down. You walked up to your fairy lights, switching them on so that only gentle orange light illuminated your room.

Carefully stepping over to your bed, you got in, placing the covers over yourself, noting how you were much colder before. The warmth of your covers had you snuggling into them deeper. You glanced over at Gwen, who looked a little unsure of what to do with herself. You two were still kind of new to the whole cuddling thing. It’d taken a long while for Gwen to be comfortable with physical contact like that on top of that. She let out a small laugh as you snaked your arm around her as you faced her.

“What?” You asked, curious of her amusement.

“I don’t think this position is natural for you.” She teased, noting how awkward your arm felt around her torso. Your body was also pretty stiff. Gwen’s face was gently glowing due to the string lights, her blonde hair fell down into her face as she shifted her body to face towards you. So much for being big spoon tonight.

There was a quick silence between the two of you. Your face was comfortably above the covers, whilst Gwen pulled them up to cover her exposed skin. Her heart was racing, as usual. She’d never gotten used to intimate moments like this, and she’d decided that she’d never get used to it. You made her nervous in all the good ways.

Gwen peered at you, the covers pulled up to half of her face. Nothing was said between the two of you. Leaning in closer, you gently moved her blonde hair out of her eyes. Talking no louder than a whisper, you spoke, “Your hair, I think the pink is fading, you should…”

Gwen shuffled, reaching out and grabbing your collar, pulling you closer to her. Her hair tickled your face as she hovered her face near yours, before carefully connecting her lips with yours. It was quick but intimate. And if not for the dark, Gwen would have definitely taken the opportunity to comment on the rising red on your cheeks. She pulled away, not completely leaving the kiss as her lips brushed over yours. And yet just like that it was over.

She cleared her throat as you lay there speechless, she glanced at your eyes through the dim room, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“We should probably sleep now. It’s getting… late.” She blurted. That statement was probably wrong, but you nodded anyways. Gwen’s internal alarms went off, as she criticized her judgment. That took a lot of courage, but she didn’t want you to know. Laying beside her, you stared at Gwen in awe and adoration. You loved this girl so much it was unbelievable.

“Fine.” You sighed. Gwen eyed you questioningly.

“Go on.” You said defeatedly. Gwen laughed at your words, smirking as she saw your expression.

“Finally.” She teased.

Turning over to the other side, you felt her cold hands wrap around your torso, pulling you in closer. Your bodies were snug against each other. Still being wide awake, you hoped Gwen didn’t feel your thumping heart as her hand was placed on your torso. She definitely did notice of course, but she was nervous too, hiding her face in your shirt.

You both lay there, nervous and awkward, as it was usually in the beginning stages of a relationship. You felt her move your fingers, playing with them.

“I think you’re the most amazing girl I know.” She spoke softly, into your back. Your heart fluttered at this. At Gwen’s voice, and the way she gave you affection.

“I love you,” you whispered out.

Gwen only smiled as she planted a soft kiss into your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

Yawning, Gwen mumbled something into your shirt, unable to really keep her eyes open any longer. You hummed, questioning what she said. But she didn’t reply. You’d finally calmed down, letting the comfort of the covers and Gwen’s warmth ease your mind. The city’s ambiance seeped into your room through the open window as you let your mind wander. Gwen’s breathing slowed down, her head placed on your back.

Readjusting yourself and the covers by pulling them up, you froze as Gwen stirred in her sleep. Cautiously, you pulled part of the covers over her. Gwen held onto your torso tighter and moved her face into your neck, her breathing tickling your skin. Holding her hand, you caressed her skin. Her hands were rough and calloused, evidence of her skills as a drummer.

Feeling Gwen twitch in her sleep, she subconsciously intertwined her fingers with yours. The only thing you could remember was Gwen’s touch as you dozed off. Gwen may have needed your comfort and presence the most after every day as Ghost-Spider, but she’d never understand that you needed her more than you let on.

✰✰✰

[a-big-chicken-nerd]

can we get more info on the movie ice emperor (i am sickly obsessed with the ice chapter and the ninjago movie. i will kill a man for more of the funny guy if needed)

WOOHOO OKAY im glad you asked i think about him constantly

first of all im open for ideas on what movie!neverrealm is like because im having a hard time coming up with anything but currently what ive sort of vaguely got is that its just more technologically advanced (not modern though) (like. mid to late 1800s-ish??)

vex is pretty much the same in personality except now hes british and is like a tired single parent

anyway ice emperor

hes not allowed to leave his throneroom and no one but vex is allowed inside the throneroom "for his safety" (its actually because hes so silly and un-royaltylike and vex worries no one will take the ice emperor seriously if they actually meet him)

he has a lot more energy than show!emperor and is constantly bored

internally watches his movie collections a LOT. from the outside it looks like hes just wandering around his throneroom and stopping to stare at nothing for about an hour, going over to a new spot and staring off again for another two hours

makes vex watch movies with him sometimes. ice emperors favorite movies are the star wars prequels, which vex also thought were cool at first but got sick of them after being forced to watch them like 45 different times throughout the years

makes tracks with ice around the throneroom to roll down on his heelies. vex will come in to a whole icy skatepark setup and the ice emperor will be like "crowd_cheering.mp3 VEX CHECK THIS OUT" and roll down a single ramp and immediately fall over and vex just has to clap and go "wow my lord that was so "sick""

vex HAS to hang out with ice emperor and try to keep him entertained or he will get bored & lonely and throw a fit and freeze everything in the castle

ice emperor is falling apart because he isnt made of titanium like show!emperor is, like whatever his outer layer is made of isnt handling the low temperatures and years of no maintenance very well at all. the armor and the mask is to hide all the damage . whether or not that makes him more or less creepy looking is up to personal opinion

he broke the Ten Billion Lumen Light in the throneroom on accident :[

and of course: BOREALL movie!boreal is a dragon but he acts like a big kitty. he is just lazy and doesnt listen to anyone except ice emperor and is usually lounging around on the castle roof.

will do what the ice emperor says but only takes the command as a suggestion. he gets distracted easily and takes shortcuts so he can be done and go back to napping

LOVES getting scritched behind the horns

uses the castle walls as a scratching post

he would LOVE the big laser pointer

the only time ice emperor can ever leave his throneroom is to go on the roof to tell boreal to do stuff (they always end up playing and hanging out for ages instead)

ice emperor makes big ice mice for boreal to chase around and catch

the ninja didnt have to kill boreal in this au. they saw this big wyvern displaying kitty behaviors and were like "oh yeah this is just like meowthra" and (very easily) distracted and befriended him. he got a lot of behind-the-horn scritches that day

im glad u guys seem to like movieverse emperor too because he just kind of kicked down the door of my brain one day and made himself at home and refuses to leave

[buriedinsand9]

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

thirty four

miles morales x hispanic!reader

summary ✧.* you hear a loud crash outside of your window of your apartments fire escape. you find yourself face to face with spiderman, he asks you to help him with his wounds. you help the hero and you feel create sort of connection.

genre ✧.* (strangers to friends to lovers, sorta a low burn ig?)

warnings ✧.* (blood mentions, wound mentions, needle mentions) wc: 2.3k - ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

the clock reads 8:34 P.M you lay in bed on your phone, scrolling mindlessly. you hear a loud crash coming from your window, from what you saw from the corner of your eye, it looked like a person. usually cats or birds will fall onto the fire escape, they'll never crash into it. you open your window and look around and see the spider-man wounded on your fire escape "hey..haha.." he says "a-are you okay?" you ask rushing out onto the fire escape. "yo, you mind uh.. helping me out?" he asks pointing to his wounds. his suit is partially covered in blood. "yeah no i can help you out- uh is that yours orr.." you ask, pointing at the blood on his suit. "i dont really know." i help him into my bedroom window and sit him on my bed. "what do you- what do you need help with?" you ask. what an obvious question. he points down at his bloody and torn suit. "right.." you reply in a low voice, almost a whisper. you leave the room and find your family med kit. is this even real? i mean spiderman is in my house, on my bed, my sheets, asking me for my help. this has to be a dream. you think as you rummage through the hallway closet. you come back seeing him hold on to the side of his stomach. you put the med kit on your desk, your back facing him. "do you- do you know how to treat a dagger wound?" you turn to him quickly "you got stabbed?" you ask in concern. "..sort of?" he replies, you sigh. "wheres the wound?" you ask with a hand on your hip and an exhale leaving your mouth again. he takes his hand off the side of his stomach and shows you the dagger wound. "oh shit." you reply, looking closely at the wound. "im gonna assume you put pressure on it right after you got stabbed because you arent gushin' out blood." you say, turning around to your materials "y-yeah i did. so can you treat it?" he asks, a wince following his reply. "oh yeah for sure, i just need to stitch it up." you say finding the correct materials, which isnt much. its just a needle, some thread, gloves, some cotton pads here and there. you sterilize the needle and thread. "this is gonna hurt like a bitch." you tell him as you organize your stuff. "you could bite down on a wet towel or you can hold on to one of my pillows." you tell him, putting on your blue gloves. "can i, uh, bite the pillow?" he asks. you stop in confusion. "you know what.. sure." you turn around with the thread and needle in hand. "okay so im not a doctor. that means if you get an infection its totally not my fault." you tell him as you sit next to him. he laughs. he lays down on the pile of pillows you have at the feet of your bed. he pulls his mask just above his nose to breathe better, you watch the mask un-reveal his facial features. spiderman has some soft lips- hold up, not the point and obviously not the time. you think to yourself. he grabs the nearest pillow he could find, biting on it. "relax your body, count down to 100, and focus on your breathing" you tell him, inching closer to his wound with the needle in your dominant hand. you start to stitch up his wound. you feel his breathing getting heavier. "you're doing great, just focus on your breathing." you reassure him, still stitching him up.

you finish stitching him up, cut the excess thread and stand up from beside him. "are you feeling okay?" you ask as you grab the cleaning supplies to clean his other wounds. "y-yeah 'm feelin' better already." he tells you, sitting up. "im just gonna clean up your other wounds. is that okay?" you ask him, turning back around to face him and he nods. you turn back around, changing your gloves to clean ones. you sit back down next to him, attending his other wounds.

you see his eyes start to wander around your room. "yo are you a photographer?" he asks pointing to some polaroids on the desk. "oh yeah. i take pictures of things sometimes." you clean around some shoulder scratches he had. "is that me?" he asks about a photo you had on a small box of him swinging around. "oh shit yeah. i saw you swinging around late at night and i snapped a picture. i actually have a couple more in that box. im on the roof a lot and you swing around a lot so.. you know." the room falls silent. did i weird him out? you think to yourself. the silence breaks as he starts talking. "uh do you mind showin' me?" you relax your shoulders hearing his words. "oh yeah, sure." you finish cleaning his shoulder and back wounds and you get the photo box.

you sit down on your desk chair and hand him the photo box. he opens it and takes out the photos you've taken of him. "oh this one looks so badass." he says, showing you a picture you took of him floating in the air. you chuckle lightly at his comment. he pulls out another picture you took of some cats sleeping on a building roof. "i've seen these cats before!" he tells you, a sort of excitement in his deep voice. "i always see them sleeping on the roof next to mine so i have a couple of photos of them." you chuckle as the room goes silent again.

"well uh thanks for the help. sorry for uh.. fallin' on your fire escape?" he chuckles. "yeah no its my pleasure! id say if you need anything you could just come here but uh.. you know." you insinuate to him sending the hint of 'well you're spider-man and im me so i doubt you'll just come back as if im your personal doctor!' he gets the hint and starts to stand up. "oh wait, let me get you a little after-care kit for your wounds." you tell him running out of the room getting the things. you come back with all of the things in a box. you take a post-it note and write the instructions down. "here," you say giving him the box "the instructions are inside." he takes the box and looks back up at you. "oh uh thanks." he tells you with a smile on his face. you open your window for him and he steps out. "be careful with swinging or any physical activities. you dont wanna risk those stitches poppin' out." you both laugh. "ill be seein you spider-man." you tell him. "you too- wait i never got your name." he turns back to you. "bye bye!" you reply, closing your window. "i-" he scoffs, smiling and leaves. he was pretty cute, you thought, well at least what you saw of him was cute.. kind of bummed he wont come back.

little did you know he would come back. a lot..

A/N: ive had this idea for a while now im so glad i can finally write it jsjsjs this is a series btw so stay tuned for part two 😝ill see yall next time hehe

[lutiaslayton]

Um. Okay um. How do I put this.

I think we may have finally found some major hint coin lore.

Remember that infamous weird coin from Miracle Mask? Well, I had completely forgotten that there actually is some dialogue when it is found. And the Japanese version… is absolutely fascinating.

オウムさんがコインを落としていきました！ これは、ひらめきコイン…に、似ているが違うようだね。 ぜんぜん、ひらめきそうにありませんね。なんなんでしょうこれ…。 ふむ、名づけるとすれば、『ひらめかずコイン』といったところかな。 ひらめかずコイン、ですか…。

Luke: Mr. Parrot dropped a coin! Layton: This looks like an inspiration coin… but it’s different. Luke: I don’t think it’s going to give any flash of inspiration at all. I wonder what this is… Layton: Hmm, if I had to name it, I would call it something like the “un-inspiration coin.” Luke: A coin that doesn’t inspire…

Not to forget the item’s description once it is in the collection box:

ひらめかずコイン　ほとばしるひらめきのチカラを感じない。どうやらこれは、まがいもののようだな…。

Un-inspiration coin: The surge of inspiration’s power (力) cannot be sensed. Apparently, this seems like a fake…

Okay so. To break all of this down bit by bit.

ひらめき: “Inspiration” Coins

Inspiration would be the simplest way of translating the “ひらめき” part of 「ひらめきコイン」, the Japanese name given to hint coins starting from Diabolical Box onwards (in Curious Village and the original version of London Holiday, they are referred to as 「ヒントメダル」, aka “Hint Medals”). A full translation would be “flash of inspiration,” or insight.

So as this dialogue seems to say quite clearly, hint coins, in-universe, are coins that somehow give you a spark of genius when you use them.

ほとばしる　ひらめき　の　チカラ: The surge of inspiration’s “Power”

As ridiculous as this sounds, this really can’t get much more esoteric yet straightforward than this. Hint coins seem to radiate some sort of power, since this specific coin’s description says that contrary to a normal hint coin, this one’s “power” cannot be sensed.

Speaking of “power,” the word is written in katakana, which is an interesting choice. I honestly am not quite sure what to make of it, but I thought I would at least make a note of it. Specifically, the word チカラ / 力 has a lot of potential meanings to it, most related to strength, energy, power, you name it.

Anyway, what do we make of this?

The first and most important thing to be taken from here is what hint coins actually do when they are used. They give the user some sort of sudden Eureka moment, then disappear, perhaps by being dissolved into thin air as they lose their power.

This does not exactly say what needs to be done in order to “trigger” a hint coin into giving you some help, but this at least seems to say that the hint coin has some mystical power of some sort, and that the way it works is through literal… telepathy, or whatever you want to call it.

This, in itself, brings quite the interesting hypothesis:

Is this how puzzles could, for example, transcend language?

Just think about it. Anyone in the world can solve puzzles. Animals can solve puzzles. It does not seem like puzzles can actually talk. And how can puzzles even tell whether or not you solved them?

If puzzles and hint coins are made of the same stuff, or at least are connected in the way they function and coexist, then it seems logical that if one bases its powers on the mind, then so does the other one.

Additionally, what is that one Azran thing I have been talking about quite a lot every now and then that is also known to manipulate puzzles and read people’s minds? Yes, the Illusory Forest. The Azran Mechanical Trees have simply been replicating what natural puzzles and hint coins have been doing since the dawn of the universe.

The Azran have harnessed the power of one of the most intriguing constants of the world, and have been bending it to its will. When Aurora said that there was no puzzle [they] could not solve, perhaps this had to be taken far more literally than it seemed at first glance.

So let’s recap.

Puzzles are physical, tangible somethings that can move around on their own, like to hide, and according to the currently undocumented dialogue in LMJ in which Ernest feels like he is being watched by one, they may or may not stalk people passing by. The London Holiday tutorial has this interesting line in particular:

部屋の中をタッチすると、隠されたナゾが出題されます。

When you touch inside the room, hidden puzzles will question you.

In short, puzzles literally lurk in the shadows, then jump at you for an unprompted pop quiz. They do not speak, but they don’t need to; as both their questions and the flashes of inspiration provided by hint coins are merely the result of the mind’s active thinking—of the sparks of electricity that course through nerve and neuron, which seem to be in tune with whatever puzzles and hint coins are made of and/or like to interact with.

As a recap of previous observations already, puzzles are also capable of moving around, disappearing in a puff of smoke (according to Katrielle), being summoned from even distant places as if they could teleport if Granny Riddleton has anything to say about it (who, by the way, is said to be capable of “popping up” as well in the weirdest of places, like her cat and… well, I’ll just name-drop Pavel for fun even though he (probably?) has nothing to do with this).

(Screenshots graciously provided by @magicwhiskers29​)

So in the end, what’s the deal with this coin anyway? Is it like the Fashion Farthings from LMJ, a coin that looks like a hint coin but has little to no puzzle-related power, either because it has lost its power but somehow did not vanish, or because it was simply created this way, the same way you can have diamonds of multiple colours depending on the nature of the impurities in their composition? Was it man-made?

Given the fact that the gang instantly compares it to hint coins rather to, say, regular human-made currency (since it is canon that they have pounds, shillings etc thanks to various puzzles that show them in action), I would lean towards the former. After all, this coin is different from both hint coins and Fashion Farthings in colour, pattern, lack of “inspiration power” (though fashion farthings probably don’t have that either), and the fact that it has moss attached to it (if this part even means anything).

Regarding the pattern, it is of note that since LMJ’s hint coins look different from hint coins from the other games (and that the hint coins from CV also look different for no apparent reason), it is a wonder whether the pattern on the coin even matters, if it exists at all in-universe. I at least am in favour of the hypothesis that if hint coins display a pattern despite seemingly not being made by anybody, then patterns are far more varied than what we are shown by the UI.

So if this Enigma Coin reminds them of a hint coin faster than it reminds them of regular currency… Perhaps what remains is the one thing we, players, cannot feel: the texture. The material composing it.

Sadly, if we want to get any more specific than that, this question shall remain an enigma; but that enigma sure helped solve a much bigger puzzle than itself.

Now, if only we could have some kind of terminology to use in order to finally stop talking about “somethings” or “stuff” all the time, at least so we could put a word on what they’re even made of… It seems like whatever puzzles and hint coins are made of, what they have in common, would be some kind of material that is capable of interacting with the brain in some sort of capacity, like reading people’s thoughts or even memories; something that is also capable of moving around through long distances, as if it were capable of teleportation. Something that, surely, scientists in-universe should have been head over heels about, not just the Azran!

Sigh… It truly is sad that despite this, we will likely never get to have canon terminology for discussing this topic in more depth…

        Oh, wait. We do :)

[booiiee]

Brooklyn Baby

Pairing: Lee Jaehyun (Hyunjae) × Female Reader

Tags: Fluff, Hyunjae is WHIPPED, They bicker- a LOT, they love each other so much, it's pathetic actually, eventual smut (duh), separate tags and warnings for smut in the smut chapter. MINORS DNI!!

For @un-love 🩷🩷

-------

Chapter 1

It's summer of 2024 you've just shifted your whole life to Brooklyn New York, a decision that you and your friends and family had to all collectively take, Brooklyn is expensive and people are rude sometimes but for the first time you're building your life

You love your job, not a lot of therapist can say that specially with how taxing the job can be, but you really love your job, you're one of the most loved therapist at Brooklyn's biggest hospital NewYork-Presbyterian Brooklyn Methodist Hospital (yes i googled that) and let's just say you earn enough to have an entire studio apartment to yourself, something that you've come to realize, you love.

Your job is many things but it is not a job where you have a lot of free time, it might even be busier than working at a fashion magazine like your friend Daisy does,some days she is the only reminder of your life back in your home country, and your love for kpop and a certain kpop idol- Lee Jaehyun from The Boyz.

“Miss Rose, the director wants to see you.” your thoughts were interrupted by your assistant Liz- or Elizabeth, informing you of your rather sudden meeting with the director. Now the old Jasmine would absolutely lose it over being called by the director but moving to a place like Brooklyn from India has made you indifferent to these small anxiety triggering things.

To say that you were surprised would be the understatement of the century. The director had assigned you a patient of your busy (lazy) colleague, some VIP, whose case was “of utmost importance” to the hospital, which in itself was making you angry as if one life was worth more than the other. Nonetheless, you were gonna treat this patient like any other patient.

“Hi, Mr. Eric? I am Dr. Rose. I am taking over your case as of today, as informed. Please follow me this way” you introduce yourself to a tall man with freshly dyed brunette hair with a mask. He must be some high profile person given the way he was avoiding the stares from people.

R- You can keep the mask on until you feel comfortable to talk without them, our session can happen without you having to show your face.

E- Oh that is a relief thank you doctor.

R- So tell me Eric, what do you love doing when you are the most stressed and when you have a lot of leisure time?

E- Oh I thought you’d start with asking me my sickness

R- You say sickness like it is a bad thing

E- Is it not?

R- Well being sick is not great but it is not something derogatory.

*No one is born a patient and no one stays a patient till the end*.

*(From Daily dose of Sunshine)

As far as the questions go, if you’d rather me start with discussing your diagnosis, i am happy to do so

E- No its…its okay we can do your method.

I am skipping the actual therapy part because I am neither a licensed therapist nor a psych student to be writing that.

The 3 weeks you were assigned Eric’s case you found that against your better judgment, you guys were becoming almost friends, which is to say was weird in more ways than one. You were his therapist and you did not know what he looked like. You never asked him to take off his mask. He never mentioned why he prefers to wear one. So you decided you’d start and stay away from him in the hospital corridors when you often bump into each other after his session with your colleague.

E- I know we are not supposed to be friends and all that protocol, but you have really helped me in ways i could never explain and i am not the best person when it comes to gifts but i asked my friend j and he suggested this since you like to read- i've seen all those books in your office

Your gasp was audible to not only Eric but a few staff around as he pulled out a blue box. Eric quickly pulled you aside and for the first time, took off his mask.

R- You’re THE Eric?????

E- I mean I dont really say that about myself but i think you know me? Which is even better, so you know that i can afford this and im not robbing a bank for this gift, which also is not the case cause J bought this really-

R- Wait, I WILL not accept that, and give me a minute Wow! okay.

Eric, hi, I love your music and you'd understand when i say how weird this is to know my patient is a member of the group i love

E- aww doc you’re a fan. That makes me wanna be your friend even moore

R- Yeah, we’re gonna…we’ll talk about that later.

Wait, you're Eric from TBZ, so your friend J who often drops you to your session, the one who bought this SUPER EXPENSIVE gift, is J, Jaehyun? As in, Lee Jaehyun?

E- Yup you got that right! The one and only! In Fact he is on his way up, now that you’ve seen me, we can all talk comfortably

R- Oh No… no no, NO.

E- But why? Do you not like Hyunjae? *Gasp* Are you a hyunjae antiii??

R- WHAT???? NO! I could never hate my Hyunjae! not in this lifetime for suree!!!

“Well that’s good to know, Miss Rose”

You could identify that voice in a room full of noisy people, let alone the silence of the corridor, so you had no choice but to tun around and see a curly haired masked man smiling at you. Oh this is not good for your job.

-----

Chapter 2 will be posted super soon!!

[adobe-outdesign]

So what's your thoughts on the newly revealed DLC 'mons?

(I've done the other DLC 'mons already, so I'll be tackling the Teal Mask 'mons here. Like the Terapagos review, this is being written before the DLC and thus my opinions might change a bit with future context.)

All of the 'mons from this DLC seem to be based on the Momotarō legend, which is about a child born from a peach who teams up with a talking dog, pheasant and monkey to fight some oni (or ogres). While Ogerpon's name suggests it's based off the oni in the myth, it also appears to be the peach itself, or possibly representative of Momotarō himself—note the stem on the head, the leaf-like shapes on the body, and the sandal-like leaves on the feet.

While we don't know what its face looks like quite yet, we can see a bit of it in this artwork; it appears to have black on the outside of its face to match its legs, large eyes with eyelashes, and spikes around its face along with a pair of "ears" at the top.

Visually, I do like the mask; the crystalline accents are cool and the overall design of it, from the leaf shapes to the expression and crescent chin, all look pretty neat. The brown draws attention to the face without being distracting, and the whole concept is pretty unique.

What I'm not sure about is the anatomy. The hand and arm holding the mask in the second artwork looks weird and formless, and it's a bit hard to figure out what's going on with the leaves around the head as well. The two symbols on the body also feel extraneous; the circle is barely visible and the flower-like shape seems like it wants to parallel the shape of the mask but doesn't quite manage it. Regardless, this is a pretty interesting 'mon.

Okidogi (side note: love the names for these guys) is okay enough. I like the expression and general threatening look, though obviously this more anthropomorphic approach might not appeal to everybody. The patterning is interesting, and the eye scars matching the "scarf" are a nice touch.

However, its big problem is the colors. I don't know why they picked these as we don't know its typing yet, but honestly, they're downright ugly. The green and the black are almost the same brightness, resulting in the colors looking muddy. Meanwhile, the magenta accents don't even remotely go with the green. I get that the magenta.... thing is on all three of these guys and they didn't want it to share an accent color, but why not do something less clash-y, like a yellow or red (which would also keep it from sharing colors with Ogerpon)? And if you gotta go green, at least go with a bright lime green or something less muddy.

Munkidori at least has a significantly better palette than Okidogi, but it still suffers from some strange stylization and proportions. Look at those weird little pointy angular fingers, or the way the entire body is just a shapeless cone. I don't know if I mind it, per say; something about the expression and personality are pretty fun, and the headband placement being accented by the magenta on the "socks" is nice. It just really doesn't fit visually with the other two is all.

Speaking of not fitting visually, Fezandipiti is again stylistically different than the other two; it's much more realistic in terms of the animal it's based off of, and it looks the most like a Pokemon in that respect.

And, in general, I think it's the best designed of the three. The brown accents are pleasant and go well with the shared magenta and black; the yellow on the head is a bit add when that could've just been more brown, but it's otherwise solid.

I also like how the body looks like a kimono of sorts, with the magenta things forming the sash and the white markings forming a neckline. It's subtle enough to be there but not feel forced or un-animalistic. There are some other interesting details in there too, such as the forked tail (which matches the eye wattles, which in turn likely reference the wattles on male common pheasants) and the shape of the beak and feet. Overall, this one's pretty nice.

As a whole, this group is okay. The Momotarō theme is obvious and works well, but the visual styles are all over the place despite the attempts at forming shared visual elements between the main three. The actual designs are also a mixed bag—Ogerpon and Fezandipiti are strong, Munkidori is relatively bland outside of its strange stylization, and Okidogi has a terrible palette that screws up an otherwise okay design. A mixed bag, but an interesting one none-the-less.

[stormkobra-5]

hi, i absolutely love your writing! can you do “visiting a haunted house” with jake lockley? thank you love <3

nsjsbsjshsj thank you so much 🥺

Prompt: List 1, 2) Visiting a haunted house

Rating/Warnings: M, themes of gore/violence, disturbing images(?), mentions of corpses/skeletons, fake blood, being chased by a dude with a chainsaw, none of its real but still, it’s a haunted house okay (written by someone who’s never been to a haunted house btw), fluff, Jake pretends to be tough but he’s söft

“I don’t really see the point of this, princesa,” Jake grumbled from the driver’s seat, letting his cigarette hang out the window. “It’s childish.”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Big macho Jake going to a haunted house, how horrible.”

“Yes. It is horrible. Thank you for understanding.” Jake went to start the car, but you stopped him with a firm hand on his knee. He slumped back into the seat with defeat. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” You said, as stern as you could muster. “Just because you’ve never been to a haunted house before doesn’t mean you can’t ever go.”

Jake sighed, exasperated. “I’m thirty-seven, Y/N. How many thirty-seven-year-olds do you know that visit haunted houses?”

One of your eyebrows popped up. “Quite a few, actually. It’s also considered a couple’s activity.” After a few beats of silence, you reached across and took his hand in yours. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to, Jake. Promise. Just—“

“It’s a Halloween thing,” Jake finished for you, “You’ve done it every year for the last several years. This is your first time with me and it’s supposed to be special.” He shot you a lopsided grin. “See? I pay attention, hermosa.”

“I know you do,” You leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. “So? We doing this?”

Jake heaved a sigh before unbuckling with a roll of his eyes, trying to stifle his grin at your excited, beaming smile. “Thank you, Jake!” You leaned across the divider again to pepper kisses all over his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

That broke his stoic resolve, and he melted into your touch before returning the chaste kisses with some of his own. You hopped out of the car with an eager giggle, hurrying around as Jake got out so that you could link your arms together.

It was a short walk to the ticket booth, and then you were ushered inside. Dark, stuffy, and filled with strings that felt suspiciously like cobwebs, it was unsettling. Screams, seemingly distant, echoed from hidden speakers and gave the impression of being surrounded by killers just around the corner. You clung to Jake nervously, every little sound making you jump. Jake was more wary, careful, but not prone to being petrified by the sound of a skittering mouse like you were.

At least... he hoped it was a mouse...

It wasn’t long before you’d lost your way in the nearly pitch-black hallways lined with plastic skeletons and robotic corpses that would lunge when you least expected it. Not even Jake was sure where you were, now. He took solace in the fact that this was a controlled environment, and even if it weren’t, he was certain he could protect you if he summoned the suit.

It was only a matter of time before you ran into somebody.

Jake was unimpressed. It was a guy in a plastic Jason mask with clothes covered in splattered fake blood, and a chainsaw that clearly had no blade. It was entirely fake— but you squeaked in terror and latched onto him as if your life was seriously at stake, so it was completely worth it.

The guy started the chainsaw and rushed toward you with a truly unhinged yell that was covering some kind of laugh as you took off running, dragging Jake along with you. For the sake of it, he kept up with you, even sped up and pulled you along behind him. Why not play along? You were having fun, squealing and giggling; and the thrill of the chase was getting to him, too. Someone catching the Midnight Vigilante in an overdone costume with a fake chainsaw? Un-fucking-likely.

Jake went faster, trying to remember the way out. “Fuck?! Where the fuck?!”

“This way!” You took him down a hallway neither of you had been before, but at least it was an exit. The chainsaw guy was actually pretty fast, although it was difficult to run while laughing so hard. Was he laughing? Fuck, yours just must be that contagious. Even chainsaw guy was laughing.

The hallway narrowed until it hit a dead end, making you unleash something between a laugh and a scream. Jake shouted in alarm when he saw the chainsaw guy speeding up the hall towards you; Jake tried to put himself around you, but the hallway was too small. The chainsaw touched you and Jake’s legs before the guy stumbled back and shut it off, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. You were wheezing, and Jake couldn’t stop staring at you in awe. You were beautiful like this, when you were carefree...

“You guys were great!” Chainsaw guy said, hefting his fake weapon to rest on his shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way out!”

Back in the car, still breathless and giggling together, Jake managed, “That was fun.”

“See?!” You pulled him in for a hug by his collar. “I told you!”

Jake had made a new pact. He’d never complain about doing anything ever again if he got to see you smile like that. No matter what it was that you wanted him to do, or how he felt about it... your laugh was priceless. “Yeah. You told me. I’ll listen next time.”

He pecked your lips lovingly and held one of your hands against him, relaxing as you traced patterns over the back of his with your fingertips. You sighed contentedly as he backed out of the parking spot. “Princesa?”

“Hm?”

“There any corn mazes around here?”

Your smile gave him butterflies.

Spookable September

[loversj0y]

ITS ME ITS ME IM GLONK

I HAVE ANOTHER SIREN IDEA

So: i was learning about art forgery earlier this year, and my professor was mentioning how because of the elitism in the art world, some artists are forced to turn to forgery because no one will pay large amounts of money for art that doesn't have a famous name/history attached to it. SO they'll copy other people's artstyles and say they found this "Leonardo Da Vinci" work in some abandoned attic somewhere and sell it (now obviously because DaVinvi is so famous, it would be pretty hard to sell that lie, but you know what I mean. maybe a buttersworth painting. idk).

...And you can launder money with art forgeries: somebody could buy a forgery with money achieved through nefarious means (dirty money), then resell it for the same (or a higher) price. Now they have the same amount/more money, but it was achieved through legitimate means so its harder to track down/make a case against it in court.

Anyway: The Syndicate catches some broke ass college student on their territory, but they are a damn quick thinker and say that they have connections in crime to spare themselves. The student tells them that they have contact with this guy Anonymous, who provides art forgeries that the Syndicate can then sell and keep their money trail clean (especially useful, when in their civilian disguise. all that money is suspicious...). What the student ISN'T telling them is that they aren't just the middleman for Anonymous' works, they ARE Anonymous (because, if the Syndicate got sick of them and knew that there was only just one person involved in the business, they could just kill that one person. But if they think there's multiple, they'd have to keep the student alive to get to Anonymous).

Maybe Siren finds out that its the student who is doing the paintings, and they bond over their artistic interests; him being a musician, them being a painter.

Or, ALTERNATE SCENARIO: There IS a mafia that the Syndicate is dealing with, and the mafia agrees to set them up with one of their greatest contributors. Obviously Siren is sent to talk with this mysterious associate-- since he's very persuasive-- and instead of finding some shady, powerful crimelord, he finds a worn out, paint-splattered college student wearing J O R T S in a shitty apartment. they don't even react when they see him they're just used to it at this point.

i might un-anonymize myself soon idk

GLONK YOUR BRAIN IS HUGE OH MY GOD

firstly, always feel free to spam my inbox with ideas, they make me happy to see and i love coming home or having a minute to read through them and reading it like the daily paper, it’s my favorite part of the day

secondly!!!!! AHHHH okay the whole thing abt hiding the fact that this broke college student is actually like an amazing art dealer and like potentially dangerous is so juicy. like

student: “yeah, Anonymous is crazy. they once stabbed someone and used their blood to sign a painting because it was the only color they could get to match a specific red tone that Van Gogh used” knowing damn well it was actually their own blood because they cut their finger opening up a box of new paints, causing the red to splatter on the floor

siren: “wow… this Anonymous person must be dangerous. how are you so calm around them? not to sound rude… but you dont strike me as the fighting type”

student: *think fast think fast, i cant let them know i make most of the forgeries or that i am Anonymous* “we’re lovers”

siren: “what.”

i feel like techno would be the first one to figure it out, and wilbur would be dead last. techno knew the minute he met you but just kept quiet about it, phil realized when he monitored your activity for a day and noticed how you’d be mimicking famous artists, tommy realized because student told him, and wilbur didn’t believe it for a second until he literally showed up to a meeting Anonymous had set up, watched as they tried to kidnap them, resulting in their mask being knocked off and siren was like OH FUCKIN SHIT OH NO

but i also love the second alternate part bc siren’s heard all these stories about anonymous’s ability to replicate artists exactly and how skilled they are, and then student opens the door and is just like “okay. siren is here. totally normal.”

siren’s like “i need you to do something for me”

student just scoffs “yeah? you’re going to have to wait, i have to finish a painting for my niece. she asked me to paint her favorite barbie doll” fully serious and siren is just like ??????? and considers using his voice but is just curious and wants to watch you work so just sits back and watches.

also LOVE the concept of the anteater paintings. wilbur is just staring around in anger and annoyance and student is just there, grinning evilly and watching bc they know he wont say anything about it so it’s funny.

[budgiesunset]

Hi can you write a harriet the maze runner x fem reader please maybe with an idea of (your the only girl in group A and then a wall opens and group A and group B gets connected and then you start a relation ship with harriet) that was just a suggestion you can write about anything love its okay if not and definitely don't feel pressured to make one xx💕💕😘😊💗❤️

AN: GUESS WHOS BACK! After a few months and my birthday I have returned. Hope you like this story Anonymous and I did decide to change a few things about the plot but I hope you still enjoy and sorry for the delay

Shot || Harriet x Fem!Reader

•Warning’s• blood, guns, gunshot wound (not fatal), the flare, slight swearing, probably incorrect medical information, part where reader is in bra but it’s not descriptive, angst if you squint, not edited or proof read •Summary• After escaping the maze and the scorch you find yourself getting shot and falling for Harriet while she patches up your injury

You had just escaped WCKED and again now setting off with Jorge, Brenda, Aris and what was left of the gladers on a mission to find the right arm and to get to the safe haven.

‘We’re so close’ you thought as you got out of the car that had gotten you almost the entire way. The road was blocked by a bunch of abandoned cars several of them had been trashed

‘probably from when this all started and people were looking for supplies or ways to get out’. The thought came to you as you looked through a cracked window of an old truck.

First you heard it. It was loud and clearly a gunshot then suddenly felt a hot pinch in your arm. You felt yourself being pulled to the ground in your daze you turned around seeing Frypan looking at you concerned.

“Keep pressure on your arm” he said as he moved your un-injured arm so the you could replace his hand on your wound.

Everything happened so fast and the next thing you know your being pulled up from the ground by someone you definitely didn’t know.

She was wearing a mask and had a rifle. But she had dark brown eyes. Brown almost black hair that she had styled in twist and she had tanned skin even though you couldn’t see her face you felt like you could trust her.

After a very confusing interaction between Aris a girl named Sonya and the girl who pulled you off the ground who you learnt to be called Harriet. They agreed to take you to the Right arm.

Along the way you found yourself walking next Harriet. “How’s your arm” She questions.

“It’s okay I guess for being shot.. Hurts like hell though” you say as you lift your hand off of the injury to look at it but quickly placing it back and applying more pressure as blood starts to leak out again.

“When we arrive we can get it looked at and bandaged up.” She said looking at you then quickly looking straight again.

“Yeah that sounds good” you say. The rest of the trip was silent.

[Time Skip]

You were sitting in the med tent when Harriet entered.

“Docs busy with your friend but luckily for you I know how to fix up a gun injury.. Do you need help to remove your shirt?” she says as she lets out a breathy laugh. You just nod as she carefully removes your shirt leaving you in your bra. She then sits down on a stool using a cloth to clean around the wound.

“This is going to hurt” she says while holding a pair of tweezers so they were just hovering over the hole using her other hand to stretch out the skin. Then carefully she pulls out the bullet.

“Fuck” you mumble squeezing your eyes closed. Harriet them starts to bandage the wound on your upper arm.

“Wait here I’ll go get you a clean shirt.” She says before exiting the tent. She returns a few minutes later with a cream colored long sleeve shirt. “Here” she says holding it out to you.

“would you mind helping me?” You say looking up at her from this angle you could see just how beautiful she is, how her skin glows as she nods and how her hair falls in her face as she leans over you to help you pull the shirt on.

Her touch is warm and as she stands up you find yourself missing her warmth you both stare into each others eyes until the silence is broken.

“Dinners ready” you look over to the door of the tent to see Aris standing there looking at you both confused.

Harriet helps you stand up and guide you to a small log next to a campfire she tells you to sit before walking off and returning a few minutes later with two bowls of hot soup.

She hands you one and then sit’s down next to you and you both talk for hours. Then suddenly you hear a loud buzzing then you see a beam of light and feel a gush of wind.

Harriet acts fast grabbing her rifle then your hand and pulling you behind her as she yells out orders left and right.

You’re suddenly behind a car and all you can hear is gunshots, explosions and yelling. You cover your ears curling your knees up to your chest hiding your face in them.

Not even a minute later you feel yourself get violently yanked from the ground and then you feel it. A gun placed at your temple.

“Put your weapon down or else she dies!” The soldier yells. You start shaking your head left and right tears welling in your eyes as the barrel of the gun get pushed even closer to your temple forcing you to move your head on a diagonal so that your left ear is almost at your shoulder.

Harriet looks into your eyes before throwing her gun to the floor not even two seconds later she is being grabbed and pulled to a line up you not too far behind.

Your head gets pushed forwards and then the soldier calls out “A45” and then moves onto the next one.

You flinch when you feel something grab your hand but quickly relax when you look over and see Harriet holding onto your hand.

“It’s going to be okay.. I won’t let them hurt you” she whispers so that only you and her could hear.

[Time Skip]

After everything happened and the WCKED soldiers left taking almost half of what was left of the right arm you curled up next Harriet as she rested up against a large rock.

Your head rested on her shoulder and her arms wrapped around your waist in a protective manner as if she was scared that if she let go you would end up in the hands of WCKED just like Sonya and Aris. So that night you fell asleep in the arms of Harriet where you felt safe.

The End

[jades-typurriter]

Party Planning, Housekeeping, And Other Jobs For A Personal Digital Assistant

Another TF story collaboration between me and Bowsiosaurus, set in the aftermath of a Halloween party (this was written just after the 31st in 2023), where a case of mistaken identity leads Anodyne (an alternate sona at the time of writing who later turned out to be a whole headmate lol) to make a few alterations to Bowsie's files. Hope you enjoy!

Bowsie scurried back and forth across the jumbled and disarrayed apartment. Vee wasn’t sure how vee had fit so many of ver friends in the little place to begin with, and was even more confused as to the mess, which seemed to have been made by a party twice the actual size. It was November 1st, technically: the wee hours after a Halloween get-together. The poor, stressed serpent still hadn’t even had the chance to change out of its costume—stretchy, breathable black leggings and arm warmers, shiny white boots and gloves, and a matching white tunic, all accented with an eye-catching cyan—before getting down to the dirty business of un-dirtying the place.

“Okay, I… okay. I still have to… the trash over there, and the spill on the floor, and… I should write this down before I lose track of it all, actually.” Vee leaned ver broom against the wall and started for ver room to check the nightstand where vee usually charged it. It wasn’t there—where had vee left it? Vee retraced ver steps, mind still pulled in a million different directions as it struggled to cling to all the little things that still needed doing, still cloudy with exhaustion. Vee walked right past ver phone more than once, as a matter of fact, and was so distracted that vee didn’t notice when the screen blinked to life by itself behind ver.

“Oh, Tasque Manager! Funny seeing you here,” chirped a tinny, computer-synthesized voice from the phone’s speakers. Bowsie didn’t seem to notice the voice, nor did vee notice when the digital voice was followed by the digital snout of a digital cat, then their digital shoulders, digital torso, digital skirt, and digital wheel. Hovering above the screen, spinning their wheel like the propeller of a helicopter, they leaned forward with their chin resting on their paw, scrutinizing Bowsie’s costume as vee frantically scrounged around.

“Y’know, you’re lookin’ a little off, TM.” They snapped their fingers and projected a checkered frame around themself, expanding it and up-scaling their form along with it. They zipped across the room like a spark of electricity, startling the little sea serpent as they came closer. “Let’s just make sure your files are all up-to-date and undamaged, nya?”

“UWA?!” Before the dragon could even turn around in ver surprise, the ephemeral cat poked it with a single holographic finger, sending a feeling like a static shock running throughout ver body. It quickly dissipated in ver torso and legs, but lingered in ver arms and tail, somewhere between the feeling of a limb falling asleep from holding it for too long in tension, and the dull thrum of distant machinery.

Ver costume felt tighter, the stretchy nylon solidifying into something more akin to latex. Bowsie could feel it clinging tightly to ver scales, but just as quickly as the feeling had come, it subsided, no longer a constricting sensation. As a matter of fact, it felt like vee wasn’t wearing anything at all beneath the white dress—as vee flinched to make sure vee was still fully covered, vee could feel the rubbery surface stretching and folding as though it were ver own skin, and patting itself down, could feel just as keenly as if there were no leggings in the way.

Finally finding the wherewithal to turn around, Bowsie saw the digital catgirl floating above ver. They flinched immediately.

“WOAH! Oh my god, I didn’t realize you’d lost your mask! I promise, I didn’t see anything! Let me just go fetch that for you.” Before the poor dragon could even get a word in, they had flashed across the apartment, zeroing in on the mask with digital precision. Bowsie hadn’t even remembered where vee’d left it, but suddenly, they were back and holding it inches from ver face. “Let’s just get this back into place, here…”

“GwawawammMPPH?”

The cat was already mushing the hand-decorated cardboard over Bowsie’s snout, pressing a little bit more firmly than was comfortable. Vee was afraid they were going to break it, or at least mush up ver snout, but just as the thought formed, the mask began to harden—and ver snout suddenly began to give way. It filled the cone—now some kind of shiny plastic—like clay being packed into a mold, and soon enough, just as with the leggings, vee couldn’t feel the boundary between the accessory and verself. Vee opened ver eyes, fighting through the flinch response of someone’s hands being pressed into ver face, and blinked. The cat watched as the mask blinked, too; Bowsie, underneath, didn’t feel the drag of ver eyelashes against the material underneath.

“There! Looking more like your old self already,” the cat grinned. “Just a few loose ends here to tie up—nothing like a little cable management, huh?”

They snapped their fingers again, and the buzzing feeling in Bowsie’s limbs intensified. Ver shoulders began to feel much lighter, and ver tail was suddenly no longer dragging along the floor. Looking behind verself, vee saw it glowing an icy blue, flickering and jumping as it became thinner. As it settled into its new shape, sending tingles up ver spine and into ver fins the whole while, a shiny, vivid blue coating like the rubber covering ver legs had replaced ver scales, and the finds at the end had reshaped themselves into the prongs of an electrical plug. Whipping around again to look at ver arms, they were similarly aglow, except when they got thinner, they didn’t stop. Eventually, the sparks dissipated, leaving ver hands fully disconnected from ver body, wrapped up in the prim white gloves of the costume; terrified, vee tried to move ver arms, and ver hands floated at ver command. Vee wiggled ver fingers, and the hands obeyed.

“So much nicer to go wireless, isn’t it?” The cat beamed, spinning up a number of the floating, disconnected gears in their chest to emphasize its point.

Vee could barely breathe a sigh of relief before remembering the humming pouring into ver skull through ver fins. It could feel them reshaping just as ver tail had, becoming patches of spiky cyan hair and a pair of pointy, feline ears. The buzzing kept inching deeper than that, though, past ver scalp, rattling ver very skull. Slowly, the buzzing began to become less and less chaotic: no longer random sound, but something that Bowsie could almost make sense of. Vee closed ver eyes and focused on it: slowly, slowly, it became sharper, came into clearer focus. Like millions of molecules moving together became a wind whose force could be felt, like the vapor drifting off of food became a rich scent, the buzzing slowly filled in the parts of ver mind not already filled by ver internal monologue.

“Alright!! Looks like there’s one more thing still out of place. Don’t mind me! I’ll just…”

They made a frame with their paws and once projected a dotted boundary, indicating that they had “selected” Bowsie’s whole body. With a flourish, they pulled their paws apart, and vee felt the tension of ver shifting skin once again as vee began to grow taller and taller. Compared to the dimensions in the files that were currently being verified, the serpent was still quite stout. All that data was being reallocated to better represent it’s proper form, but it ran into something of a bottleneck as it tried to flow through the sash vee wore around ver waist. As vee grew, it restricted the movement of the extra memory, conveniently restoring the curves of ver body to their defaults by pinching ver midsection. Well, not quite default. The mass didn’t extrude all the way: the hips had a bit left over in them, and were bigger than they usually were; the thighs were a bit more powerful to match.

With a freshly-adjusted model, and with a number of background processes fully initialized, Tasque Manager opened her eyes. She already felt more focused, in spite of the sheer bulk of information traveling through her mind, parsing it as easily as an organic being might breathe—and able to make sense of the rest of the apartment just as quickly. She didn’t like what she saw, but she had already put together a plan to fix it, and with the ways she felt like she could multitask, the path she’d mapped to allow her to move as quickly as possible from one job to the next, and even a new system for putting away everything that wasn’t to be thrown out, she was confident it would take her no time at all!

“Yaaaayyy,” the cat beeped, pulling her from her mental calculations. They spoke directly through her console via a newly-shared wireless connection. “I like the UI adjustments, personally,” they said, appraising the… modifications that had been made around her waist. “I could keep tinkering around, though. Y’know, if you prefer!”

“Pardon, but I believe you’ve made enough unauthorized changes to this device,” she chided them. They blinked, then froze briefly.

“Un… unauthorized? No, no! I, uh, I have administrator privileges! And they were given to me voluntarily, for sure.”

“Then could you please give me the PIN for the phone you’re currently operating on?”

“Uh—”

“Or perhaps the password for this—” she gestured down at her freshly-reformatted form. “—piece of hardware?”

“I don’t think it comes with a password, but—”

“So you don’t know how to legitimately access either of them, then! My, my. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the … disorder, around here, would you? Since you seem to be an outside influence.” There was a long, tense silence, broken by the electric hum of Tasque Manager producing her whip. The cat continued to remain stock still, except for the graphic of a spinning wheel that eventually flashed across their visor. Eventually, they came up with some kind of answer.

“Ah, gosh, TM,” they stuttered, “No matter how many times you get an update, you’re the same old stickler underneath, nya? I can see the party’s over, so I’ll jusHEY WOAH—” They cried, dodging the thunderous crack of an electronic whip as it slashed through the air beneath them. She had intended to take out the trash, and party crashers were just as important to clean up as any other of an evening’s left-overs.

TY for reading!! If you're interested in more of my writing you can have a look here and here. Oh, and have an epilogue and some of the concept art vee did!

[arctic-shard]

Outer Child, chapter 3

( 035 changes its alias every time I need to give it a name.  Maybe one day I’ll settle on something more permanent, but I’m fond of it just changing aliases whenever.  Anyway, Dr West gets her be-toddlered mask weirdoes back to her containment to try to calm them down and figure out how much the transformation affected them. )

Outer Child, chapter 3

Warnings: none

Words: 730~

-----

  The Doctor and 035 - Amica, as it currently wanted to be called - had clung tightly to Victoria's hands as they walked to Light Containment.  It was obvious even to Victoria that they'd learned to associate being taken places with bad things.  Victoria didn't know what tests had been run on the two SCPs-turned-toddlers, if it had been just clinical check-ups that Amica and the Doctor couldn't understand in their current state or if any of the researchers had taken the chance to cause some pain.

  Combs had been there for the Doctor's exams and said they had been clinical, but it might have been because Combs was right there observing so no one took any liberties.  Victoria was more worried about Amica, whose sadistic nature and high body count might have drawn some retribution.  It didn't seem to be injured, at least.  Maybe they were just worried they'd be taken back to their containments to be alone.

  A guard walked behind them, which Victoria found ridiculous.  What could Amica and the Doctor even do in this state?  Maybe the guard was for her, in case she decided to just scoop up the other two and carry them out.  Maybe it was just the basic protocol that she wasn't supposed to wander the halls alone and it didn't mean anything.  She still found the basic protocol ridiculous.

  All three relaxed once they were in Victoria's containment, which looked more-or-less like a large bedroom with a small bathroom attached.  Nothing any fun in it for kids, but it was more comfortable than Heavy Containment's bare concrete and metal.  Victoria went to her laptop and set the media player to a Classical playlist.  It wasn't her favourite but the other two liked it.

  By the time she looked up again, Amica was already walking around like it owned the place, opening drawers like it expected to find something more fun than clothing.  The Doctor had remained where she'd left him, standing on the small rug beside the bed.  She walked over to sit beside him, using her bed as a backrest.  "It's okay, Doctor, you're safe here.  I know everything is confusing right now."

  He sat down on the rug beside her and curled into her side.  "C'est un mauvais endroit."

  Victoria put an arm around him protectively.  "I don't understand French."  The Doctor had taught her a few words, mostly endearments, not nearly enough to have a conversation.  "Can you say it in English?"

  "This place is bad," said the Doctor quietly.  The rasp had gone from his voice, now high and childlike, but the slight metallic echo was still there.  "People are sick."

  The Doctor was usually only allowed to interact with a couple of the medical doctors who he had deemed clear of the Pestilence.  They'd probably had several uncleared researchers studying him over the last few days, just because his condition was new and they wanted to get as much information as they could quickly.  "You want to help them."

  The small hooded head nodded emphatically.  "Oui.  Yes.  I can, I can ..."

  He trailed off, frustrated, lacking the words to explain his feelings, knowing he had a purpose but unable to understand in his current state.  Victoria rubbed his back to calm him down.  "You will.  Not yet.  You'll learn how when you're older."  Not that the Doctor had ever been able to explain the Pestilence as an adult.

  Amica made itself known by flopping backwards onto the rug to lay its head on Victoria's lap.  It had managed to pull socks over each of its six hands and was now waving them in the air for inspection.  "I have tentacles!  They should be black."  Its voice wasn't as deep as it had been, but surprisingly deep for a small child.

  "I don't have black socks."  All of Victoria's socks were shades of gray.

  "Why?"

  "Black socks wouldn't match my outfits."

  "Why?"

  "Because all my clothes are gray or beige."

  The next 'why?' didn't come.  "You should wear black," said Amica.  "Because you're mine.  Doctor wears black.  Gray is the wrong colour."

  It was reassuring to know that despite their condition, the Doctor was still certain he was the Doctor and Amica was certain it was the Black Lord.  Neither seemed to know exactly what those things meant, but they hadn't lost everything in the transformation.

[viralvava]

Something about Greylancer and Vlijmen. Maybe Meier too :зс

okay so this turned out WAY longer than expected and is basically just relationship setup teehee... that is to say its 4,030 words so ill put it under a read more lmfao

All told, it was only a short time after Greylancer had resumed his title as Overseer of the Northern Frontier, feared and revered in equal measures throughout all the sectors of the country and the Capital both, that he had once again been made to face an invincible threat to his rule. And at that time, in a manner unlike anything before, such a threat proved too much for even the Noble Greylancer to overcome. That Noble, who had felled armies, battled insurgents by both day and night, who had mercilessly dispatched his equals and had stormed the dreadful moon base of the OSB with hardly a single helping hand… that Noble, Lord Greylancer, had been bested in battle.

There had been a close battle between two men of undeniable similarity. Both peerless fighters of incredible skill, who had once served the will of the Sacred Ancestor and laid nothing less than complete and utter waste to their enemies, most especially the OSB. As blood had smeared both warriors, spilling so long and so heavily that it had even begun to dry and coagulate underneath their boots as they fought, the silver lance had crossed with the obsidian sword. It was the latter that had reigned superior, as had its wielder, that damnable madman who desired to extend his rule over the entire Frontier. Bathed in the red mists of gore and that scarlet stench, Valcua had been akin to a huntsman, and Greylancer had become the wolf in the rifle’s sights. Never prey, but still rendered helpless in the face of something incomprehensibly beyond him. 

Of course, there was only so much anyone could have done against the Ultimate Noble. Even a man so powerful as Greylancer would have been incapable of eking out a victory against him. Clad in armour that seemed to be crafted of divine and unknowable materials, his cape and hair dancing in the bloodied air like golden threads, Lawrence Valcua had proved to be an indomitable foe, to what would become Greylancer’s eternal humiliation. Anyone else would have accepted in stride being defeated by such a being as he, once a general of the Sacred Ancestor’s own army, having uncountable casualties beneath his heels.

However, left in such a sorry state that he could barely keep his broken mask affixed to his brow, Greylancer couldn’t help but to seethe. His men and vassals were all slaughtered, down to the last retainer and warrior both. Even the horses had been slain, so intense and unyielding was his opponent’s thirst for blood and killing lust that it had set some of the creatures with heart attacks, while others had been cleaved in twain. The humans under his supervision had too become faceless victims of warfare. Met with the might of Valcua’s enchanted blade, even his own trusted lance had been cut apart like so much paper and tissue. It was like this, unarmed, undefended, and bleeding from unhealed wounds, that Greylancer crawled away from the battlefield, reduced to a struggling bug. Resistance had proven futile, and forever now would his pride and dignity be tarnished – that was how Greylancer felt.

It was this devastating loss that had decided the continuing dominion of the Northern Frontier, and as both a fugitive and a complete and utter failure of an Overseer, Greylancer had been forced to flee, lest his life become one among the millions already taken by Valcua. Not only was this enough of a blow to Greylancer’s character in and of itself, but it was made all the worse by another distinct factor: Greylancer’s Northern Frontier sector had been the first so far to be targeted by Valcua, and then the first to succumb to him. The Capital was built of cowards, most of all being those who made up the privy council, who hadn’t the mettle to interfere with Valcua’s intentions. Furthermore, for reasons unclear, even the army Valcua had once led seemed not to be slighted or at all caring of his sudden betrayal, no matter how many monuments of the Sacred Ancestor the ex-commander turned to ruins. 

No matter what the cause of this inaction was, it had left Greylancer and his subordinates to fend for themselves, and while they could be as bitter as they liked towards the weak-willed Nobles in the Capital, it was only expected for the neighbouring Frontier territories to stay out of things. Greylancer had poor relations with every other Overseer, somehow even more strained than he had with their predecessors, and regardless each sector operated with the understanding that they had no dealings in each other's business unless brought directly to the table. Humans were useless in a battle between Nobles, and Valcua’s soldiers seemed to replenish ad infinitum no matter how many of them Greylancer and his allies ran through. Magic, or the sheer charisma of their superior, Greylancer knew not. In the end the results were the same.

Yet. As much of an embarrassment as it was, for him to have fallen first out of all the Frontier and to now be hauling himself through the darkness like a dog, there was one benefit Greylancer could find. He had been the first target, and so far the only one. If he could only make the journey, the near sectors would not yet be under siege, leaving South, East and West to their own devices. Dangerous as they would be for him, practically stripped of all rank and honours, compared to the lands which Valcua now roamed, those otherwise concerning sectors would now become safe havens. It was with this in mind that even now, bereft of everything he’d ever earned, lost, and fought to keep, Greylancer continued on. For any other, all this may have been cause enough to simply accept imminent death.

But it was not only his accolades that made up The Noble Greylancer.

Pure strength of will pushed him forward, even as the numerous injuries afflicted by Valcua’s swordsmanship failed to close or even stop seeping with blood. Under the moonlight, grass was teased by the thin breeze that carried the immutable blackness of hundreds, thousands of deaths tainting the air. Onto the glades dripped blood that ran even darker, blooming like flowers from beneath Greylancer’s flesh. Even though Greylancer was barely clinging to life as he moved achingly slow across the countryside, no monsters dared to accost him, and Valcua’s men didn’t follow. Surely, they assumed his death was inevitable, and had no desire to waste time. Or rather, that was their master’s thoughts. 

“Overconfidence will be the bane of him,” Greylancer promised himself in low, lethargic tones, and continued on, clawing himself closer to his destination inch by agonising inch. He would take his territories back from Valcua, the so-called Ultimate Noble, no matter how long it took him. Even if his injuries took decades to heal, even if he had nothing left, even if House Greylancer itself had been truly destroyed and he was nothing but a wraith; his pride as a Noble demanded it. His willpower lent strength to his battered body, in the way only a true warrior could, and so did his intent. Perhaps that, as the certain goal he had in mind was what informed his will to accomplish it, it was the thing driving him on more than any other. 

No matter the case, days passed by repeatedly, and sunlight at once shone over him in useless fashion, danger repelled by the incense he had managed to miraculously preserve, and then melted away again, like a transient painting that blotted over with purple night hues. Nothing interfered with his advance, as pathetic and slow as it was, diminishing in vigour every moment when Greylancer’s weakening limbs couldn’t keep up with his racing mind. His pace was unsteady and faltering, not to mention he moved at speeds even a snail might find sluggish. As the beating from Valcua didn’t get better, nor did it get worse, but the strain was disturbingly constant. 

The sun glittered over the horizon once more, colouring the sky with warmth and a golden haze, as it announced Greylancer’s arrival in the Western Frontier. As Greylancer had first thought, though now his head was also being burdened by the increasing daze of near unconsciousness, the west was still untouched by Valcua’s ambition. For how long that would be the case was impossible to tell. As Greylancer pulled himself across flat ground in an almost snake-like fashion, if not for how laboured it was, he couldn’t help but to marvel; for someone who had spent untold amounts of time caught in a life-or-death struggle that ended with everything surrounding him in various states of complete annihilation, the formerly unremarkable peace of the Western Frontier seemed as if it could be of another world. Wind coursed painfully through the cuts that pierced his body, but it was wind that had the vibrancy of life still clinging to it, and wasn’t rank with rot. Though Greylancer could hardly stop moving, lest he not start again, it served to reinvigorate him somewhat. But would it be enough to get him where he needed to go?

Since the complete upheaval of not only the Privy Council, but the Overseers, caused almost solely by Greylancer himself, there had been new blood appointed to tame the temporarily lawless sectors. These new Overseers included choices that could only be deemed inexplicable, such as General Gaskell overlooking the south, but more relevant was Count Braujou in the territory Greylancer now attempted to cross. Despite questionable relationships with every new addition, as Greylancer had never been one to uphold political relations anyway, Braujou was known to be unusually reasonable for the sorts of personality the Frontier tended to breed. It was unlikely for him to take advantage of this moment of weakness, very unlike Gaskell, and so it made sense to use the west as an escape. Strangely, though, it didn’t seem like the castle Braujou resided in was where the gutted Noble was heading. Instead, the route he inexorably followed looked to be the direction of someone who’d finally lost his mind, with no articles of any importance existing along the way.

Or, no important articles that were supposed to be existing. For when finally Greylancer’s body could no longer move, shutting down in the face of both its abnormally still-fresh injuries and the incredible strain it had been put under for so long, it was in front of an odd little outpost that he collapsed. Large and imposing, glinting black in the light, it was one of many resting houses the Nobility had constructed in their forced deference to the glowing sun – what humans would call a ‘dark abode’. Usually invisible to human eyes and protected by holograms and illusions, Greylancer’s presence had revealed it in all its glory, in spite of his deathly state. However, a resting house was no form of permanent housing, and any Noble with another option would never stay in one for extended periods of time. Was it simply that Greylancer had hoped to enter before his strength at last waned, and had been hit by a stroke of bad luck? No, that couldn’t be it, for he had moved with an undeniable purpose that couldn’t be from that alone.

And surely enough, when the day inevitably began to fall away, and instead a beautiful hue of pitch-black cast itself over the sky, the stars glittering brightly as if trying to express an omen to anyone who might read them, a figure shrouded in darkness stepped out into the moonlight to receive their guest.

It was three days later that Greylancer awoke. His eyes snapping open, his first action was to cast his gaze over the room; around him, he could see medical equipment littering every wall, in a manner that could almost be called messy. There was the scent of chemicals in the air, the kind a Noble wouldn’t ever need if not for the overwhelming severity of Greylancer’s wounds, and it made the back of his throat itch unpleasantly, tongue knocking heavily against his teeth. His next order of business was an attempt to push himself up, off of what he soon realised was a medical bed, but his body protested so shockingly that he immediately fell back down.

“Curses,” Greylancer muttered, for it was clear that though his gouges and lacerations had been cleaned and dressed, and perhaps doused with antiseptics, they were not at all healed. How phenomenal must the power of the Ultimate Noble be, to leave Greylancer in the same dire straits as a human who had dodged death by only the skin of their teeth? He found himself disturbed to think of it, that his fight may have truly, honestly been unwinnable. A hopeless battle for him… was something he had previously thought impossible.

A polite cough sounded to his left, and Greylancer turned. Having before slipped his notice – and how addled his mind must be to have let that happen – the Noble was now face to face with a most unexpected companion. That was to say, unexpected for anyone else. Greylancer had kept his suspicions close to his chest, but he had carried them from the very beginning, and it was on those suspicions that he had practically bet his life. For the man that sat next to Greylancer’s bedside, doing little but reading a book and flipping the antiquated paper pages with long, white fingers, was none other than the former Overseer of the Western Frontier. The same Overseer, in fact, that Greylancer himself had supposedly impaled with his lance. Though he had his claws sheathed, the Noble that looked at him with bemusement in his gaze was none other than Lord Vlijmen Mayerling.

“The blood?” Greylancer asked, but when Mayerling provided him the answer, he’d already realised it. After all, it was Mayerling who was famed for his mass production of synthetic blood, almost identical to the real thing, and Greylancer hadn’t lingered long enough for the difference to be clear. He had only seen the blood pour from the coffin and then made his own assumptions.

Mayerling’s cherry-red lips curved upwards into a smile. “You look as disgruntled as ever,” he said smoothly, and carefully closed his book, not bothering to mark the page he was on. It was likely that he’d already committed the page number to memory. “Good day, Greylancer.”

“I thought you might be alive,” Greylancer said, not one to return pleasantries, and analysed the other Noble with stormy eyes. When he lifted his hand to his face, he felt his mask still in place, and he could find no cracks or blemishes when he searched for them. It had been perfectly repaired, the metal cool against his fingers. “Was my lance not strong enough for you?”

“It would have been,” Mayerling confessed, “had I actually been inside the coffin. You’ll have to forgive the slight.” He was apologetic, but his words held a certain confidence. That was always the case with him. 

“Smart.” Greylancer muttered the word with a begrudging respect, and Mayerling’s smile widened, teeth peeking out between his lips. 

The bedridden Noble watched as Mayerling stood up from his chair, brushing himself off and leaving his book on the cushion. Like most everything owned by the Nobility, the chair seemed rather lavish, though Mayerling himself was all but dressed down, wearing only a loose ruffled shirt and high-waisted trousers. There was no reason for him to be wearing anything too formal, Greylancer registered belatedly. He wouldn’t have been expecting a guest. 

Obviously, it wasn’t actually the roof he was thinking about. What plagued his mind as he waited on Mayerling’s return was instead a wide consideration of his circumstances. As it stood, Greylancer had been ‘evicted’ from his territories, having lost in battle to the Grand Duke Lawrence Valcua. With a passionate certainty of one thing – Vlijmen Mayerlings continued survival – the Noble had forced himself forward through the pains of his injuries to make it out of the now-hostile Northern Frontier alive. What was it that had made him so sure of what he would find? A genuine confidence that Mayerling had faked his own death, or an intense desperation causing him to delude himself, and then happening to get lucky? 

“I’ll get you a drink,” Mayerling offered generously, eschewing direct mention of Greylancer’s inability to get one himself. “You wouldn’t mind…?”

He referred to the synthetics. Greylancer shook his head, both too parched to care and not in any position to argue, and Mayerling slipped out of the room. Greylancer watched him leave, staring for a while at the empty doorway before he remembered himself and instead moved his eyes to the roof above his head. 

Even to Greylancer himself, who had thought of all this in the first place, the truth proved to be elusive. Once again, wrath filled his countenance, directing a glare at nothing in particular that seemed so hot and vicious it could burn through even the impenetrable construction of the Nobility. His pride had been an unfortunate casualty of the miniature war waged over his land, and unlike the physical wounds, there was no chance of it healing. Not until Greylancer saw the life bleed out of Valcua’s eyes and reclaimed his position as Overseer, as well as his – as Zeus Macula would have called it – absolute managerial rights.

It was at that point Mayerling returned with two glasses in hand. He held one out to Greylancer, who first sat up before taking it, more careful than he had been earlier. He gulped back the contents of the glass without a word of thanks, more grateful for the sustenance than he was disgusted by the just-off taste. Mayerling was unruffled by Greylancer’s gruffness, and took measured sips of his own beverage, leaving ruby traces where his lips had met the rim of his glass. “If I may, then,” he started without sitting back down, looking Greylancer in the eye, “I’d like to inquire as to your… health.”

Greylancer couldn’t hold back a wry smirk, setting the glass down over his legs. “I was bested in battle,” he said, voice low, “by the Grand Duke Lawrence Valcua.”

Mayerling’s eyes widened. 

“Count Braujou?” Greylancer asked, lowering his gaze as he took Mayerling’s forgotten glass instead of asking for his own back. “I didn’t check,” he said flatly, gesturing to himself, and Mayerling couldn’t help a surprised laugh from escaping him. Greylancer didn’t often crack jokes like that. 

It was in that position they spoke, Greylancer relating the context of the situation. As he spoke, voice somewhat roughened from disuse, Mayerling’s attention was rapt; at some point, as Greylancer began to touch upon how Valcua had first insurged upon his land and demanded his immediate surrender of the sector, the younger Noble took both their glasses and refilled them with a carafe he’d secreted in with him, and somehow, below Greylancer’s notice, the energy in the room had become comfortable between the two of them. “I question,” Greylancer said, after he’d wrapped up his report of what exactly had happened before Mayerling found him, “that you hadn’t heard of Valcua’s plans.”

“News is slow to reach me,” Mayerling told him, taking a drink from his glass. Greylancer’s glass, actually – Mayerling had picked up the wrong one. Greylancer failed to mention it, though he paid great attention to how Mayerling sipped near where his own lips had been. “As I’m evidently in hiding,” and he was perhaps a bit sarcastic, “I lack the kind of informants I had when I was Overseer. However– has the new Overseer been notified, either?”

“I’m flattered that I was your first choice, then,” Mayerling said mildly, and didn’t realise that Greylancer’s responding blink was an expression of surprise when reminded of his own actions. He hardly knew Mayerling, and had admitted to finding his company disagreeable on more than one occasion. Both men knew that they were only just acquainted, and it was probable that both now found their apparent easy companionship strange. However, aside from the shared thought flickering between their eyes, neither of them brought it up directly. Was it that they didn’t want to break it, this odd but pleasant synergy they had? Greylancer decided it wasn’t important now.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed outside as they talked, as because the two of them were Greater Nobles, the light of day had no real sway over them when not actually exposed to the sun’s rays. Greylancer assumed they must have been locked in discussion for at least some hours now, yet the minutes seemed to have flown by with surpassing speeds. 

“Ah,” Mayerling spoke suddenly, sounding concerned, and his brow creased. Reaching out, he took Greylancer’s glass – or his own glass – from him, and balanced both glasses as he picked up the now emptied carafe. “You must be fatigued,” he said, nodding towards Greylancer’s injuries. From what they had both concluded, it was likely the wounds would be healing at a human rate, and no sooner. The handicap chafed, but there was nothing Greylancer could do, and in the very least he was all but guaranteed Mayerling’s gracious hospitality until, and likely even after, he recovered. Much like Mayerling, there was nowhere for him to go that wasn’t this solitary resting house, unless he desired to brave the questioning he would undoubtedly get from Count Braujou as soon as the Noble heard of Greylancer’s presence in his territory.

Especially if information had already reached his ears regarding Valcua’s conquest over the Northern Frontier. If Greylancer had gotten any sort of impression from the man while fending against his blade, it was that he would be the kind of person who loved more than anything to gloat. 

Mayerling blinked, but was quick to cover up his surprise. “If that’s what you desire, I would be glad to provide it,” he replied evenly, but his eyes were bright as Greylancer caught his gaze. “For now, though, you should rest. I will come to redress your wounds at another time.”

Not desiring to incur any ill will from Mayerling while relying entirely on his mercies, Greylancer agreed, lying back down on the bed. “I’ll leave you the book,” Mayerling said, almost as an afterthought. “If boredom strikes, feel free to read of it; I’ve finished it many a time already.”

“And your company?” Greylancer blurted, unexpected even to himself.

Still caught off guard by his own slip of the tongue, Greylancer nodded once, then turned his head to stare intensely at the wall to his right. He heard Mayerling shut the door behind him. A minute passed, then two; but Greylancer found himself struggling to parse what had happened, in all its facets. Of course, it was quite simple – he had given Mayerling all the information he could regarding the plans of Lawrence Valcua, as well as an explanation of his disgrace and the subsequent loss of his sector. What vexed Greylancer was the atmosphere that had grown between them so easily, how he had found Mayerling’s company shockingly tolerable despite all their earlier arguments and tenseness around the other. Was it Mayerling's nature as a near-kindred spirit during the incident with the Privy Council that now made Greylancer so open to his presence? Though multiple hypotheticals entered his mind, he failed to find one that he agreed with. They all seemed ever so slightly incorrect, or otherwise not enough to encompass things properly. After a time of continued flummoxing, Greylancer set the matter aside. If he were to stay here for as long as he expected, surely it would come up again, and by then he might have a better answer.

For now, Greylancer grunted, trying not to reopen his stitches – applied by Mayerling’s delicate hand? – or rip his bandages as he moved around the bed and flipped to face Mayerling’s chair. Careful not to bend too much, he reached over and took Mayerling’s book in his hands, skimming over the front cover. Then he cracked it open and began to read.

[berryblu-soda]

thinking abt the completely opposite styles Arrio and Nathan went for in their suits!!!!!! it tells so freaking much abt their characters and exactly why they tend to have quite a bit of friction!!!

🐺Nathan´s style is techwear (or something similar) he centers himself in functionality as well as protection, his suit is mostly sleek without much extra fabric except in the hood and his pants, which is interesting bc once again, this has a functional purpose!! pants like that provide extra mobility *and* extra space for gadgets, which while being a great fighter, he has to rely heavily on. while the hood, i´d say is one of the more un practical features of his suit (tech + anpther mask is already obscuring his identity, he does *not* need that thing!!), however it´s meaning makes up for it. from purely a character design standpoint, a hood (especially when its up) can be used to tell inmediately a character likes to keep his cards close, not keen on trusting people and more than okay with just fading into the background. but also in Nathan´s case, it parallels Daejung/Jupiter-Man!!! which makes me INSANE!!!! bc not only is his hood so much more ... normal than Jupiter-man´s big and flowy cape, but!!! he´s mirroring his dad (again)!!!! aghh-

🔥okok sorry yall know im more insane abt Nathan by the day, but onto Arrio´s suit analysis!! 3 things of note are: no mask, triple aesthetic influence, weak spots. I absolutely love that arrio contrasts with nathan´s overkill of a mask by wearing absolutely no mask at all!! (<- dumbass move in my opinion but i support it), it makes sense he didnt go for a mask bc his goal was never the superhero secret identity nonsense, even if it were to later grow on him, his core motivation was always to look out for the twins (<- as opposed to Quin, who in a non canon test comic carried arround masks and would jump at the chance to use em).

next part is more me nitpicking arrio´s suit than comparing w nathan´s lol

Triple aesthetic influence: what i mean by this is his suit feels like a combination of streetwear (loose, comfortable jacket, ripped jeans), the default parameters for their super suits (tight black shurts, turtleneck, contrasted with strong pops of color ((as opposed to the girls´ white w pops of color)), and magi type clothes!! <- which i absolutely love btw!!, it can be noticed in his jacket´s high collar, loose wide sleeves, beads on a string w no clear purpose, stripe patterns (reminiscent of his spellbook but way oversimplified) , skull and belt w a good amount of extra fabric!!!

a bunch of these features (specially the belt) arent as streamlined as they could be and that is a c h o i c e , homeboy really increased his number of weakspots that could get snagged or pulled does he even know it??? does he even care ???

as a side note: he and quintin are the only ones with an easily removable part of their outfit (jacket), and theyre the ones most prone to using it!!!! look me in the eyes and tell me they wouldnt absolutely lend them to people if they needed some sort of comfort and protection