#one day i will figure out how i want to draw you but alas

[kit-screams-into-the-abyss]

princess of the boobers

1 / 2

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-

I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)

(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)

bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake

Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon

Oh I can definitely work with this ^^

......

When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.

"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.

Easy as pizza pie, right?

Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.

Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.

So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.

Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.

"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.

Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.

Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"

But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.

You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.

On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.

While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.

Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.

Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.

The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.

But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.

Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.

He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!

Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.

So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.

When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.

He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.

But as it turns out, you love your job!

You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.

And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).

Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.

Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.

Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.

But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.

Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.

Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.

"Was he just laughing at us...?"

"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."

Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.

[sandflakedraws]

Hi! I have been a huge fan of your art for a long while now; I hope this isn't terribly, horribly rude but do you know when/if commissions will be open again?

It's totally fine if the answer is "not for a long time/ever", I'm just curious because I would love to commission you one day.

Have a lovely day or night, whichever! I will continue to enjoy your art like a delicious soup :)

Don't worry, I don't think this is a rude question! Hopefully the response isn't more than u bargained for.

Alas though, the truest answer is also the vaguest: I'm not??? Sure??

Rather, I'd like to open them again, but I need to be thoughtful about how and when I do it.

recently, the internet landscape has helped shed some light on the subject of ADHD, how it affects people, what forms it can take, and i have had some revelations regarding my relationship to it.

namely that i very . very likely,,, have it.

not sure why it never occurred to me despite having siblings and cousins with it, but either way.

What matters here is that sometimes, my brain constructs a wall of agony around doing a commission. Seemingly at random, it'll hit me with a constant button press of "not gonna! wrong! stop!" I never understood why. I had previously thought that I'd just been having some sort of temporary funk, and that one day I'd wake up and it would just. not be there. Y'know, like my executives would function.

So... it has been common for some very patient, sweet, compassionate commissioners to have waited months, even years before they received what they'd rightfully paid for.

... I hate that I'm capable of that. I don't want to be That Guy.

After having recontextualized the problem from 'temporary haze' to 'state of being' it's been easier to recognize what I need to do.

If I open commissions again, I need to figure out a way to keep ADHD brain from forming walls around the task. One thing I've decided for certain is that I've gotta switch to a multi-payment method. Ergo, the commissioner would pay a little up front, and the rest when I finish. Other than that though, I've been drawing a blank.

Until I get that settled, my commission status will remain in limbo.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I’ve been reading some craft books and online posts about the world building because my story is an urban fantasy set in present day US, in a fictional town, and theres not a secondary world where the fantasy happens, it’s all in the real world, except the magic is a secret that only certain people know about, but all of the resources I find about world building only talk about fantastical worlds that exist by themselves and not the kind of more subtle world building that I’d have to do. Do you have any tips?

Guide: Creating a Fictional Town in the Real World

Step 1 - Choose Your Location - There are two ways to go about choosing a location for your fictional town. One is to go the "Springfield U.S.A." route, ala The Simpsons, and be vague about the specific location (borough, parish, district, county, region, state, or province) and instead give a broader geographic region... "the East Coast," "the Pacific Northwest," "Central Canada," Northern Scotland," etc. The other option is to go ahead and put your fictional town in a specific location. Just figure out where (for example, somewhere outside of Des Moines, Iowa) and go to Google Maps, click on satellite view, then start zooming in on big empty areas. Choose a place big enough to fit a town. Yes, in reality it's probably farm fields, pasture, or someone's property, but that doesn't matter. You don't have to actually show it on a map. It's just a plausible spot to build your town. Now you can measure how far it is to other places, you know what highways to take to get to it. You can even do street view to get the lay of the land, see what the landscape looks like and try to envision the buildings there. You can also use what's there to create parks, popular recreational areas, and anything else your town needs.

Step 2 - Choose Your Inspiration - Even when you're creating a fictional town, it's still a good idea to use a real town (or two, or three) from that general area as inspiration for your town. For a fictional town in Des Moines, I would zoom in on the map to find a nearby town of similar size... like Elkhart, then I can take a look around to see what it's like. Just looking at the map, I can see they have a couple of churches, a couple baseball fields, a very small main street/downtown area with a couple shops and restaurants, a post office, a few different neighborhoods, and a cemetery. This would be a great model for a small fictional town outside of Des Moines. And, as I said, you could look at a couple other sand combine them. Once you have your inspiration town/s, you can walk around on Google Maps street view, go to the town's web site, watch a tour on YouTube (if one exists), or look up pictures in Google Image search.

Step 3 - Start Planning - This is the really fun part! First, you might want to draw a basic map of your fictional town using your inspiration town/s as a guide. This doesn't have to be a pretty map... just a basic line drawing to help you envision where everything is. Think about some of the basic things this town might have, like the ones I listed in step two, and any other things you might want your town to have, like maybe a library, a hospital, a city hall, school, and maybe a movie theater. It might even be helpful and fun to put together a collage of pictures to represent your town so you've got something in mind as you write about it. You can even choose representatives for specific locations in your story, like your MC's house, school, and their favorite hangout.

Step 4 - Naming Your Town - Start by looking at the kinds of town names that surround your town. Look for common naming conventions... suffixes like -ton, -ville, -dale, -burg, -wood, -field, etc. Words in a particular language, like a lot of French-inspired town names, or towns with geographical terms (lake, hill, valley, river, canyon, gap, etc.) My guide to Naming Locations has additional tips.

Step 5 - Populate Your Town and Give it a History - Last but not least, make up a little history for your town, again, using surrounding towns as inspiration. Who founded it? When was it founded? What's the town's main industry? What are the people like in this town? What jobs do they have? What do they do for fun?

Here are some other posts that might help:

Five Things to Help You Describe Fictional Locations Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place WQA’s Guide to Internet Research Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[the-marigold-reception]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do Mordecai writing a love letter confessing his feelings to his love interest. I believe he wouldn’t be as poetic as Rocky, but since he is so into reading and talking with big words I do think it would be a little dramatic letter. Just a paroxysm of everything he may feel.

If you don’t like that idea, how about him as a secret admirer? (As you may have noticed, I am quite a big fan of love letters, lmao). How he would struggle to leave his letters without being seen and the way he would try to get his crush to say anything about it while not looking suspiciously involved.

Thank you very much. Your page is my favourite, so I hope you don’t mind taking one of my ideas.

To Whom It May Concern,

I have admired you for some time now, and I must confess my feelings. Your presence captivates me, and I find myself thinking of you incessantly. I harbor a deep affection for you that cannot remain unspoken any longer.

Yours Truly,

A Secret Admirer

It takes him a while to actually place the letter somewhere you’ll find it

He’s so nervous to be this vulnerable about his emotions

When he finally posts the letter into your letterbox, in the dead of night, fully decked out in black so no one- not even you would be unable to spot him

The next night he’ll come back and see the letter is gone- now he knows the waiting game is afoot

He won’t have to ask you if you’ve received any weird mail because you’ll come straight to him

(He’s very happy that you depend on him for help with simple things)

“Mordecai! I got this letter and I realllllly want to know who it is- can you help me draw up a systematic chart of likely to unlikely?”

The strong urge to tell you it’s him starts there

But he is flattered when you write his name down first out of anyone-

If you don’t figure it out after the first letter, he’ll send you another

To Whom It May Concern

It is with a trembling hand and an eager heart that I pen these words to you. The world around us is a tempest of change and noise, yet in your presence, I find a sanctuary of calm. The bustle of the city, the clamor of the jazz bands, all fade into a distant murmur when I am with you. It is as if time itself pauses, granting us a stolen moment of eternity.

How I wish I could express these feelings openly, but alas, the constraints of our world bind me to the shadows.

Yet, let this letter serve as a beacon of my affection, a silent testimony to the depths of my devotion. Until the day we can walk freely under the sun, I shall remain, faithfully and fervently,

Yours, in silence and in longing.

He’s a bit worried about what your reaction will be when you figure out it’s him

If you figure out it’s him-

You definitely know

You snuck into his office and checked the penmanship, the speech pattern was the same as Mordecai’s and he’d started to get increasingly nervous around you

One day a letter is slid under Mordecai’s office door whilst he’s working

To my Longing Admirer

Your letter found its way to my heart as surely as a sunbeam pierces through the morning mist. Your words, so tender and earnest, have stirred within me a curiosity and a longing I can scarcely describe.

It is with a blend of trepidation and exhilaration that I respond to your heartfelt confession. The sentiments you have shared resonate deeply with my own unspoken dreams and desires. Though the world may impose its boundaries upon us, I find myself yearning to transcend them, if only for a moment.

Might we dare to meet, and allow our hearts the luxury of true connection? If it pleases you, let us rendezvous at the Serendipity Tearoom on the corner of Elm and Rose, this Saturday at three o'clock. There, amidst the soft murmur of whispered secrets and the delicate clink of teacups, we may find solace in each other's company.

I shall be the one with a single gardenia, tucked gently in the folds of my dress. Until then, I remain,

Yours in hopeful anticipation,

An Enchanted Soul

[should I do a Part 2?]

[ozzgin]

I also had a Yandere Eyeless Jack meets Y/N as an entity/spirit is very similar to Sadako the ring girl. However, more playful and dangerous. Y/N is different from Sadako or Samara. Y/N wants to play a dreadful games with EJ.

So I did start writing this with Sadako in mind, although I ended up with a more generic kind of reader whose background isn’t very clear. I found the lack of details to be more interesting, since it’s up to you to decide what kind of devilish entity this reader is. It’s also heavily focused on their encounter rather than overall headcanons.

Yandere! Eyeless Jack x Haunting! Reader

Featuring Eyeless Jack and a ghoulish reader that just found a new favorite target. Warning: mentions of violence and death

[Horror Masterlist]

Well, this is awkward. The hooded creature stands before the bed, scalpel in hand, unsure how to proceed. After a moment of consideration he nonchalantly stuffs the blade back into his pocket, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Judging by the stagnant blood that has pooled into the lower half of the body, he’d say the man has been dead for several days. A waste of his evening. Who could’ve gotten here before him? Burglars? He quickly scans the surroundings for clues, but nothing seems amiss.

Just as he ponders on the possible scenarios, a faint knock can be heard from the window. He crawls over and abruptly pulls the curtains, hoping to surprise whoever is on the other side. Pitch black. Now that he thinks about it, isn’t this an attic bedroom? Who could even casually jump over three floors? Besides him, obviously. Jack opens the window and peeks down, but no ladder can be discerned through the murk.

“Wrong guess.” He snaps back and hovers a hand over his pocket, ready to draw his weapon. He can’t quite place the whisper he just heard. A jagged, interrupted voice, like a broken record, echoing in the distance and yet as clear as if it blew right upon his ears. He stares into the darkness before sneaking out of the room. Detective work wasn’t on his list tonight, but alas, he might as well find his new source of fresh organs. Whoever is playing these games better enjoy it while it lasts.

You can sense his frustration and smile to yourself. The previous one was so quick to go. You hoped you could drag it on for longer, but humans have frail hearts. You glance at the decaying carcass and muse over the sunken face with its features distorted in terror. Was it too much? No matter, this one is different. He seems more of a creature than a mortal. Will it make a difference? Oh, you can’t wait to test it yourself. As you stalk his figure in the hallway, you stretch out your fingers and sink your claws into the wallpaper.

Without looking back, Jack plunges his scalpel in the same spot. Your hand remains in place, merely visible fog surrounding the shining piece of metal. For the first time, the creature can see you. You gaze into his endless, cloudy sockets and nod, attempting a greeting gesture. You then switch your focus to your hand and he follows. “That’s…not very useful, is it?” You state plainly. An invisible frown darkens his expression and he pulls out the blade. Statistically speaking, encountering a ghost was the least likely situation. His reaction was by all definitions rational and he does not appreciate your mockery.

Yet tangled up in his anger lies something else. Throbbing, twisting and turning, the vague beginnings of intrigue gnaw at his chest in anticipation. He’s found a rival, or maybe a playmate. Curiosity binds him in place. If it’s amusement you want, he might just provide you with it. Although he won’t make it easy for you. And if he wins, he expects a prize in return. You’ve caught his interest and he will not be leaving empty handed. Can you tell?

A shiver runs down your spine. The smile occupying your face has now widened into a full, harrowing grin. “It’s a deal”, you murmur. The hunter and the hunted. Except no one can tell who plays the roles.

[sxfthannie]

Fetishism

↦ pairing: yandere!jun x fem!reader

↦ warnings: nonconsensual touch, dirty thoughts, threatening, fetish

↦ note: jun the type of yandere who'd be obsessed with a specific part of your body rather than obsessing over you.

↦ word count: 685

Junhui despises baggy pants with a passion, as they simply do not do justice to your figure. However, when it comes to skinny jeans that hug your legs in all the right places, he can't help but admire how they accentuate your curves. It's a sight that never fails to leave him in awe.

But when you strut around in anything that exposes your thighs, Junhui is left in a state of dilemma. On one hand, he can't get enough of the alluring sight, but on the other, he can't stand the thought of anyone else in college getting a glimpse of what's rightfully his.

Alas, to his dismay, you have been shamelessly flaunting your thighs around campus for the past few weeks. Sure, it may be summer, but still, that’s no excuse.

So when he decides it's enough of you showing off your thighs, he decides to confront you about it.

"My sweet, sweet princess," he whispers, and your eyes shoot open at the unfamiliar voice in the safety of your own bedroom. You see his figure sitting at the edge of your bed and before you can even let out a scream, his hand clamps over your mouth, silencing any sound. "Shh, princess. I don’t want your family members coming in between us." You catch a glimpse of the glinting blade in his grasp, and the mere sight of it is enough to keep you mute.

"That’s a good girl," he murmurs, his hand retreating from your mouth once he's certain you won't scream. He turns on the table lamp, finally allowing you to get a glimpse of his face, or at least his eyes, as he's wearing a mask. "Who are you?" you dared to ask, your voice shaking with fear. "Me? I'm your boyfriend," he replies, his answer so absurd that you can't help but furrow your brow. "My boyfriend?" you repeat incredulously.

"Ugh, forget the introductions." He snaps, impatient, yanking the blanket off of you as he climbs on top of you. "I'm here for this." His eyes are fixated on your thighs, his hands tracing their curves as if they're a fragile work of art.

He can hardly believe he's finally touching them after all the time he spent just staring at them, and the thrill of it sends blood rushing down to his cock.

But it’s too early for that so he holds himself back.

"Don't you dare move," he warns, the glint of his knife now against your neck. You're frozen in terror, tears streaming down your cheeks as he continues to stroke your skin, pushing your nightgown up to reveal more of your flesh.

“This thing here belongs to me.” He emphasises, tightening his grip around your thigh, drawing out a wince from you. “So stop showing them off to the assholes on your campus.” He pulls off his mask and bends down until his breath is tickling the flesh of your thighs.

He’s a handsome man, you can’t deny that but his behaviour is disgusting.

The knife is long taken away from your neck but you’re too scared to move an inch. "Oh my, I think I left a mark," he murmurs, his lips tracing the tender bruise on your skin. He plants more gentle kisses on your inner thighs.

He could keep kissing the flesh of your skin for hours with no end, but he decides this is enough for tonight.

"Don't worry, my sweet princess, I'll be back soon." With a soft smile, he rises from the bed and tucks you under the covers, placing a kiss against your cheek. His lips lingers for a moment, dangerously close to your lips, before he slips out the window and disappears into the night.

The next day, Junhui can't hide his grin as he catches sight of you in your skinny jeans. He watches as you nervously scan the room, searching for him in fear.

It's adorable, really.

He knows he'll have to pay you another visit tonight, to praise you and to feel your thighs against his lips once more.

[seeminglydark]

Hey um, so this is actually my first time typing anything on tumblr, partially because I only got it a couple months ago (something something healing my inner child because I only managed to secretly log into Webtoons during my younger years) and I am also a chronic lurker. Alas, it is the night hours and this, combined with listening to the first episode of Mil-Liminal has moved me to emerge, if only for a moment.

Sorry, this is strange. I am typing to someone I do not know who has written so much that is so close to my heart. Something about the first episode just really hit. Maybe it’s cause of how I can relate. Maybe it’s cause listening to it felt a little too real as if maybe you or someone you knew could relate. The thought makes me really sad but also less alone. Is that messed up?

Regardless, thank you so much for everything you make. Every success you have makes me really happy, and seeing you expand over the years to now being able to hear “Caro’s” voice after imagining it for so long- just awesome. Now if I may impose my nagging that I give to my friends upon you, please take care of yourself, make space and recognize the inherent worth you have, know that rest is necessary and you do not need to earn it, and thank you for everything you have done for the community and for all the dark times of my life you have lighted.

Hey, Hi. Even as a person who literally writes for a living, I'm always at a loss for words. Thank you. Thank you for summoning courage and coming out of the shadows for a second to send me this message. I want you to know it moved me to tears (don't worry, crying's healthy.) It's not messed up to feel less alone by listening to my stories, because you're right. Almost everything I write, I have experienced in some kinda way. That includes breaking free from control, running away, and living in my car and suddenly not knowing who the hell I even was (not from my parents though, as in Caro's case.) My writing is and has always been a way to process and express my own grief, healing, yearning, and wishing, identity, and sexuality. The fact that it can hit other people who might be going through or went through similar things actually makes it even more worth while to me. And you don't need to be sad for the things I've gone through, because it brought me here. Almost middle-aged, the bad times feel like an old nightmare I can barely remember, Breathing, Heart beating, ALIVE and with stories to tell, and if I'm lucky, some hope to share. Cuz there is hope, and don't you forget that.

Thank you again, from the very bottom of my heart. This whole message is really so special to me in the deepest most profound way possible. I want to reply to the last paragraph with something great to say, you know what I mean? Words are hard though. So instead I'll thank you again, and I'll ask that you have that same grace for yourself too, and leave you with a little drawing of a kid figuring out their life, even though they feel really lost right now, the wonderful thing about Caro's story is that we already know it's going to be ok one day. -RJ

[lowkeyrobin]

okay i’ve been requesting this idea with other fandoms i’m in for a while and it’s not being done so i don’t know if they don’t want to write or or can’t figure out how to write it BUT…

you belong with me by t swift ♡ with our beloved freddie badlinu ♡

basically like reader got introduced to freddie by tommy and fell head over heels (definitely not me projecting /hj) but he just thinks of reader as a friend and eventually starts dating someone else yada yada i love this song

you don’t have to write it but i just love this idea (and song ♡)

-🦕 anon

OKG HI 🦕 ANON YES KF COURSE!! RJJSNSNSNS YESYESYES KM SO EXCITED FOR THIS, there's a lot of ts lyric references here bc I used the premise of ybwm but the feelings of her other songs iykwim; hopefully I did you justice with this and thank you SO MUCH for requesting Freddie bc I've been wanting to write for him again and I couldn't think of any good ideas LMFAO

BADLINU ; you belong with me

summary ; you're head over heels for Freddie, but he doesn't seem to feel the same way

warnings ; language

track ; you belong with me ; taylor swift

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

The day you'd met Freddie through Tommy five years ago, you instantly fell head over heels. You didn't know exactly why, but there was no hiding your feelings anymore, it was so hopelessly obvious, even to Tommy.

The blonde, your best friend, tried to set you guys up here and there, alas, with no luck.

At first, you were convinced you were getting that usual feeling where you kind of fixate on your friend until it disappeared, until it never really did. You talked with him constantly, learned more about him, and learned about the music he liked and his hobbies.

He had an infectious smile that could light up the whole town and a giggle to make you fall to your knees as you felt something in your stomach become fuzzy with a tossing and turning motion. You wonder what it must be like to grow up that beautiful, with his hair falling into place like dominoes, his eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting you want to jump in.

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, like he was a walking masterpiece. Not many people see him like how you do, his little imperfections and beauties.

You couldn't stop him putting roots in your little dreamland, your house of stone and his ivy grows, covering you in himself. You thought of him at every waking moment, catching yourself doing it frequently when you didn't mean too. If you saw or heard something that reminded you of him, it'd send a wave of dopamine through your brain, infecting you with the disease of happiness with a smile.

You remember him taking a bus to your house in the middle of the night, needing your comfort since you were still awake at that hour, and also the only person he felt safe talking to about what he was upset about it. You were the person to make him laugh when he was about to cry, the one to understand him on deeper levels than most, the one to know his story and his dreams.

Your viewers and fans would often ship you two, drawing fanart, writing fanfiction, and spamming y/s/n in chat whenever you had one of those moments. You streamed together whenever you could, and made YouTube videos frequently featuring each other.

You sat on your balcony at night together sometimes, star gazing.

He says "Look up"

Your shoulders brushed. No proof, one touch, but you felt enough. Enough for you, at least.

He keeps a picture of you two in his office at home downtown. It hangs on the wall with many other pictures of him with his friends. You thought you felt it in the silence and in the way home, with the lights out watching movies. But you seemed to be wrong.

Why couldn't he see that you were right there? Had the thought ever crossed his mind that maybe you loved him so much that maybe he belonged with you? Why couldn't he see that you were the one to understand him, who'd been there all along?

He found a girl he liked, and started officially dating her a month or two ago. After that, you'd never lost hope that maybe he'd see you, but within all the losing more and more hope, Tommy was there for you. He didn't exactly know how to comfort you, but reassured you that it was normal to feel this way, and that you'd move on with time.

You seemed to be the only person to not find love, you felt like you were cursed to be alone forever and watch the one person you truly loved go and love someone else. You couldn't move on, everything reminded you of him, every forest themed candle at the market, every pebble on the seaside, every star in the sky.

You knew he was happy at least, but you just wished that something inside of him would see that you were right there.

Over time, you distanced yourself, though wanting to remain friends with him. You just couldn't seem to see him without his girlfriend, and it hurt. Everytime you remembered that there was no point in trying, it broke your heart even more. It became so bad to the point that it was unhealthy, leading you to send him a text before leaving for a little trip to America.

It read 'Stay beautiful'.

You sent it just before getting on the plane, ridding you of any worry of receiving a message during the long flights. You'd only told Tommy and Tubbo that you were leaving, considering you streamed with them frequently and would probably be the first to notice you disappearing.

You decided a little trip to Folley Beach, South Carolina would be your therapy. Four thousand dollars for a week stay in a solid three star condo wasn't going to work, though. You had some connections, however, getting you a cheaper condo considering it was only you, and you'd be spending a month or two. Six thousand was much better than the probably forty thousand you'd have to pay for that, thank God. Yeah, maybe using your save-up-money wasn't the best idea, but you needed it at the moment.

Your mental health had been declining for a while, and you felt stupid for being so dramatic about the situation with Freddie. But, a trip to the beach and the opportunity to experience things you never had and make some content out of it wasn't something you'd pass up on.

From trying bubble tea to the fresh, clean, oceanside air, it was like a daydream. You took so many photos and videos, sending them to some friends and saving them for a video.

Trying all the food was amazing, which you probably gained a solid ten pounds from. The long walks along the island, down the beach, and down the graffiti road to the other side of the beach were sweltering hot but therapeutic to you.

Once you returned to the UK, opening your front door, you're surprised to see Tommy, Freddie, Tubbo, and Becky in your house, cleaning up for you. Tommy had a spare key to your place, which is probably how you got in. You were confused, but got a little uncomfortable seeing Freddie, especially without his girlfriend on a Sunday afternoon. You'd been gone for two months with nearly no contact, maybe something changed.

You still had feelings for the red-haired boy, but you lost hope on him ever seeing how he felt about you during your trip. You'd gotten over it and you were on your path to just moving on.

"Hi" Tommy smiles, giving you a wave as he stands up, "Sorry, uh, we just came to clean for you since you've been gone for like, ever-"

"It's fine" You reply, "I mean, I could've just cleaned it myself, guys."

"Well, we came over for something else, but we thought you were coming back next Sunday, not this Sunday" Becky explains, looking to the boys for a nod or agreement, or an excuse since she already knew what your next question would be.

"Came for what?" You ask, setting your bags down on the floor, deciding they could wait.

"Uh-" The blonde begins before the shorter brunette speaks for him.

"We were gonna throw you a welcome home party"

"Oh"

Silence condemns you for a moment before you speak again.

"Well, uh, thanks. But, I'm gonna unpack" You pick up your belongings, taking them back to your bedroom, leaving them with a little wave.

Christ, that was so awkward. What's wrong with you? Since when had you gone cold to your friends?

The second you sat down, you felt the wave of regret. Freddie was the first to come in and ask if you were okay, though.

"Hey, are you okay? You're either tired and jetlagged or upset to, uh, probably see me, " He mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "And before you say anything, I was a dick for not seeing how you felt about me, and I was completely blind, and I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do at the moment, but I wanted to genuinely apologize, because I made you feel like you had to leave home because you were so uncomfortable because of me"

"Freddie..." You sigh, setting your electronics from your bag down on your bed, "It's fine. I didn't leave because of you, I left because I just needed a break from here, nothing is your fault. I'm on my path to moving on, so don't make it more awkward than it already is" You chuckle, sitting on the bed across from him as he stands in the doorway. "I swear, if you apologize one more time I will kick your ass"

Freddie smiles and nods, "Thank you. Are you sure this isn't going to ruin anything between us..? I don't wanna lose you as a friend"

"That's what I was asking you!" You giggle, "But yeah, unless you fuck up"

His eyes slightly widen, playing into the bit, "I won't, your majesty."

"Good"

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

OHSHCAU (Keysmash)

Part 3

Prev

You know how, when the school year starts up, a teacher might get everyone to go around the room and give a couple of vague facts about themselves? Or, even worse, they might split everyone up into teams based on some random, inconsequential factors and they would all be forced to work together on some dumb task? That way they can get to know new people better?

You know how everyone hates that?

Yeah. Marinette thought that, of all people, her fellow high schoolers would understand. But alas, here she was, glaring down Dick because he wanted to do a team-building exercise. Bastard. She was going to shoot him.

With a paintball gun! Because they were playing paintball!

Do not send cops her way! She will introduce neurotoxins to your system!

Anyways, she had no choice but to agree. Debt’s a bitch.

And, maybe, the idea of shooting the Waynes point blank in the face with paintballs would have swayed her regardless, but who knows. The option was never truly given to her, so who’s to say how she would have reacted?

Certainly, the Waynes would never know.

Which was probably for the best. They could end her life in a couple of phone calls.

She hummed as she absently messed with her paintball gun. They had been split off into pairs. Steph was still on the bench thanks to her copious amounts of injuries, unfortunately, so Marinette hadn’t particularly minded who she was going to end up with (she hated all of the Waynes equally, save fucking Tim, who would avoid her, anyway), and had allowed them to all pair off and leave her with the leftovers.

She was regretting that, now, of course.

Dick wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her into his side. “Don’t get too competitive, please?” He said, and he sounded like he was one more ‘fuck you’ away from begging.

She glanced over his shoulder and found Tim making faces at her behind his back. He was supposed to be heading to one of the other nondescript, frankly unnerving steel tunnels that would lead them to a random place on the map. He should be spending this time with Damian so they could discuss their plans. He was not doing any of these things. He had followed Marinette and Dick to their room instead, and she would be concerned about him trying to figure out where they would end up for the sake of a tactical advantage… but, frankly, that was too smart for him.

He had no good reason to be here. How sweet of him to want to see her off.

She looked back at Dick, her eyes gleaming. “Of course I won’t. Only babies get competitive over stuff like this.”

Tim bristled. But his mic was on, so he was unable to say a word in protest. He could turn his face away from the people to mouth the curses he so clearly wanted to scream, but she could just look in another direction.

Her lips twitched into a kind of grin before she tamped it down.

Dick sighed. Deeply. “I’m guessing I can take that as a no.”

“Aw. You know me so well.”

He snickered. “Well, I’d hope so, since I hired you.”

“No one has ever lied to the people hiring them ever,” she said, nodding sagely.

He grinned. “Which is why we went with… atypical hiring practices.”

“You’ve basically kidnapped me and decided to hold my entire future ransom to make me work for you.”

“Shhhhhhhhh.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh, Marinette,” a voice called, and she was more than happy to let Steph drag her out from under Dick’s arm, even if this meant that a new arm was wrapped around her waist and a face came to rest close to her own.

Marinette raised an eyebrow, but wasn’t too surprised at the sudden closeness. They’d literally slept together, in the same bed, for days. She could handle a little bit of contact. And, besides, they’d both agreed that it fit their characters (a playful flirt would flirt with a girl next door, and a girl next door would blush and let it happen) and it would draw in more customers. Teenage boys and gay teenage girls would both rather enjoy watching ‘wlw content’ when given the option.

Besides, who doesn’t flirt with their friends a little? Now they got to monetize it. A win.

Marinette rested a lazy arm over Steph’s shoulder, careful not to jostle the microphone hovering by the girl’s chin. She gave it a pointed look, and Steph mouthed the word ‘off’. She untensed a little. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Your mic is off.”

“I didn’t get one,” she said, shrugging.

Steph blinked. “Oh. I can give you mine.”

“Well, if I accept that, how am I going to insult Tim without the audience knowing?”

Dick snickered. “You could try not insulting him.”

Marinette gave him a blank look.

He shrugged as if to say ‘well, I tried’. Which, did he really?

But her attention was quickly stolen away when Steph pulled something out from behind her ear and then presented it to Marinette, who looked at it how one might look at a dead rat their cat had just brought in.

“What the hell is that?”

“A mic,” Dick offered.

She glared at him out of the corner of her eyes, and then snapped her attention back to Steph when the girl leaned in to fit the device over her ear. “You’re not putting that on me.”

“What, is the scientist scared of technology?” teased Dick.

She gritted her teeth. “Chemicals are easy to understand. They’re predictable. This? Unreliable. Who knows who's listening in on those wavelengths.”

There was a beat of silence. The two Waynes looked at each other for a moment, something unreadable on their faces.

And then Dick sighed. “Listen, you know how our dad bankrolls the Batman?”

She nodded, still eyeing Steph as if the girl was going to jump her and attach the evil machine to her by force.

“Well, we get a couple of perks. Like this. If anyone tries to hack into these – which, really, why would they? – Batman will be alerted and I’m sure they will never be heard from again… or whatever it is he and his weirdo kids do.”

“Local Batman proves that all cops are corrupt,” she said, still eyeing it warily.

“Not a cop,” said Steph.

“Not corrupt,” said Dick.

She wasn’t sure who was being less realistic.

And it didn’t matter what they said, either way.

Batman was exactly the person she was trying to avoid, thank you very much. But it wasn’t like she could just say that, because being openly wary of the Batman in front of rich people was just begging for them to be suspicious of you. They were too used to their peers being affiliated with the Court of Owls. So, reluctantly, she let Steph place the mic.

The girl drew back slightly once she was sure everything was in place (and, more importantly, that it would stay in place even while they were all running around).

Steph grinned. “There. Done. All you’ve got to do now is press the button and you’ll be live. Anyways. Blush like I said something suuuuper hot, m’kay? They’re staring.”

“Maybe if you do something hot, I will.”

She hummed thoughtfully before she brought her free hand up to cradle Marinette’s face. She tilted her head up, her thumb caressing her cheek, their noses brushing. A quiet click sounded next to her ear as her headpiece was turned on.

“Fixed,” Steph said. Quiet, but close enough to the mic hovering by Marinette’s chin for their audience to hear.

“Thanks,” Marinette mumbled. Thank god she had melanin to hide the reddening of her face somewhat, but she was pretty sure it was obvious regardless.

“Anytime,” Steph teased, going so far as to press a kiss to Marinette’s nose before drawing back. She glanced at Dick. “Your mic is off, too.”

“What, not going to fix mine for me?” Dick joked, lifting a lazy hand to flick the knob by his ear.

Steph snorted. “I’d rather die.”

Dick grinned and immediately tugged Marinette closer to him again. Woe is her. If only she could retaliate by beating his ass like she so wants to do. She hates debt. Thankfully, he didn’t wrap an arm around her this time, instead he let her go in favor of crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re just jealous that you don’t get to teach this sweet little underclassman the ropes.”

Marinette was fighting a valiant battle with her face, trying to keep the unimpressed annoyance off of it. “You’re so kind.”

“Of course! It’s my job as the club leader to make sure that your introduction to the group goes smoothly!”

They wouldn’t be bothering with all of this otherwise.

For you see, a large part of being a Host was based around how physically attractive you were, and if they wanted her to be popular enough to pay off her debt, they would have to introduce her to the potential customers in a way that would draw their attention in that way. So, it had been decided that Marinette’s official introduction should be some kind of physical activity. Especially since their clients were all fellow teens, and likely would see a bunch of people fighting for their lives in slightly skimpy clothes and go ‘ooooooooooh’.

Steph rolled her eyes so hard she must have seen her brain back there. “It would have been easier if we’d just done a pool party.”

“My! A pool party?! Steph, have you no shame? What about her innocence?!”

“Dick. She’s wearing a crop top and yoga pants.”

“A crop top, yoga pants, and tasteful armor,” said Dick. His attempts at defending her honor were… definitely attempts. Marinette could give him that.

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, grinning. “Would you prefer I work out in a hoodie and sweats?”

“Well,” said Steph. She brought her hands up to press against her own chest, winking. “I don’t want that.”

A glance up at the crowd showed that the people had caught the jist of what she’d said thanks to the overdramatic body language she had opted for. Thankfully. Marinette wasn’t sure how to naturally repeat that for the sake of the people watching.

Her eyes caught on one particular person in the crowd, though.

Fu, leaning against his cane heavily, watching her.

“Alright, Steph, stop flirting with the new recruit,” Dick said, slinging his arm over Marinette’s shoulders again, tugging her closer to his side. “Shoo. Scram. Other synonyms that start with ‘s’. I need to teach her how to shoot – shoot! No, wait, I’m thinking of ‘shoo’, and I’m pretty sure I already said that. Anyways. Leave so I can teach her.”

Marinette’s head jerked around to look at him, her eyebrows disappearing behind her hairline. “I know how to shoot. You just…”

She pointed her paintball gun at a nearby wall and pulled the trigger. A disappointed look crossed her face when, despite the gun clicking to tell her that the trigger was working, nothing came out.

“Hm,” she said, eloquently.

He snickered. “Well, I know why that happened, but before we fix that…” He reached a hand out to adjust her fingers. “Let’s not keep our fingers on the trigger. Unless you want to shoot at anything that dares to surprise you.”

Marinette absolutely wanted that. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say that while in character, so she was stuck smiling and saying, “Thanks, Richard.”

“Dick,” he corrected lightly, as usual.

“You don’t understand how much I can not call you that,” she said. Even if Dick was, often, a dick, and she didn’t usually mind going with whatever nickname or name someone called themself, it’s hard to say the word and still come across as demure.

“Well, then, you can call me something else. How does ‘my liege’ sound?”

Marinette snickered into her hand. “Terrible, King.”

“Oh. Hate that.”

“Got it, Queen.”

He sighed.

“Themporer?” she tried, batting her eyelashes.

“How many of those do you have?”

“So many, gender nonspecific monarch.”

“That one feels like a stretch.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, it is a bit of a mouthful.”

“You know, I’m starting to realize that you use humor to stall.”

Marinette’s face flushed at the direct callout. That had been unnecessary. And she couldn’t even curse him out for it. She hated life.

Whatever. She’d roll with it (not like she had any other choices). She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “What do you mean? I was trying to figure out your royal-title-specific pronoun preferences! I had only the best of intentions.”

“Of course, of course. Pretend to get ready to shoot your gun.”

Marinette huffed, mumbling that he was ‘no fun’ as she lifted her paintball gun.

He walked around her slowly, knocking his foot against the inside of her own until she moved them to be shoulder width apart, bending her arms so the recoil wouldn’t hurt as much, bending her knees slightly so she wouldn’t fall over at the lightest of hits…

“You sure know a lot about this,” Marinette said, eyeing him warily.

“Dad made me take some self-defense classes after I got held for ransom for the eight and a half-th time.”

“Eight times is a lot but I guess that’s still surprisingly competent for hi – wait, half-th?”

“Yeah!” he said, and then did not elaborate.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting.

He checked her form one last time before nodding to himself. He squinted at her gun for a moment, before cringing.

“I – uh – I’m not used to turning off the safety from an outsider’s point of view…”

“Then here,” she said, starting to stand up straighter and hand it over to him, only for him to rapidly shake his head.

“No, no, no, we need you in that position for as long as possible to get your body used to it.”

Marinette fought back a grimace, her eyes briefly flicking to the people still watching them intently. Dick, as the self-proclaimed ‘king’ of the Host Club, was easily the most popular among guests. She did not want to put a target on her back by looking like she was trying to come onto him. Or because it might look like he was coming onto her. She hated this fucking job. They were coworkers, damn it. She shouldn’t be stressing about getting, like, Court of Owls-style assassinated for being near him!

“Just – just… do it quick,” she said.

He nodded sharply.

Arms wrapped around her from behind, a chin coming to rest upon her shoulder. Warm breath just barely wafted over the side of her neck, earning a few goosebumps. His hands ghosted over the back of her own, briefly, fixing the positioning of her fingers once again (he really didn’t like her tendency to hang onto the trigger, apparently) before flicking the safety off.

He pulled back the second everything was in order, hands up like he was already actively surrendering. They sent the people watching them mildly embarrassed looks. It isn’t doing them much good, though.

Quick! Take legitimacy away from the intimacy!

“I need to stop bringing desserts from home, you’re getting heavy.”

Dick spluttered. “What?”

“I said what I said.”

She would apologize later.

… wait, would Babs count mental damage as adding to her debt?

She was going to apologize so profusely later.

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair, briefly pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Tell me why we made you the girl next door again?”

“Out of ideas,” Marinette said.

“Right, right. Any chance we can change it?”

“Well, you’re the king and all, you can choose,” she said, before winking and blowing a kiss to the people up on the viewing platform. “But, hey, everyone knows that most ‘harsh’ people are just hurt people trying to protect themselves from more harm. I’m sure that, with the right person, I could actually be the soft, kind person I portray. After all, every act needs at least a little bit of truth to work, right?”

She glanced at Dick out of the corner of her eyes. He gave the barest trace of a nod.

Good.

She had a bit of a reputation in the school. Not really because she was outright mean to people – she would never say half the shit she said around Adrien and the host club members to people she didn’t know, not without good reason – but because pretty much every student knew about her… antagonistic relationship with Tim. Because during the last finals season they had only been a step above fistfighting in the middle of the hallway. And not even because they had been scared of punishment or expulsion, but instead because Duke and Steph had physically dragged Tim away before he could jump at her.

Whatever. It was totally water under the bridge and she definitely didn’t want him dead anymore.

(Yes, Tim and Marinette could just put aside their differences, and show that they had changed… but Marinette would rather just kill him, to be honest.)

Regardless, it would be hard to convince the general population that the person that had almost fought another member was all that shy and kind. So, they needed to rework her image. Recontextualize her personality.

Whether or not Marinette or any of the other host club members really believed what she was saying didn’t matter, all that mattered was that their guests believed it. Thankfully, they had years worth of toxic media to back up their claims, and the rich kids who had never had real reason to distrust what they’d been told fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

Great. The goal for today is done. Now, if only she could get out of this stupid paintball tournament. She has changed her mind. A chance of shooting Tim in the face is not worth having to simulate a battle.

Maybe if she annoys Dick enough he might just call it off?

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes as they continued down the hallway. He caught her stare and, instead of being confused or upset or uncomfortable, sent her a tiny smile.

Yeah, she didn’t think it would work. You can’t annoy someone with as many younger siblings as he has. They are immune to outside annoyances by this age, she is pretty sure.

There’s no getting out of this.

She almost laughed. Story of her fucking life.

Dick rested his hand on the doorknob, glancing back at her.

“Ready?”

She flashed a wink. “As I’ll ever be.”

Their door opened up into what seemed to be a trench, carved into the ground. Once they had clambered out of the trench, their clothes already stained with dirt (at least she didn’t have to pay for any of it), they found themselves in a heavily wooded area, with a couple of concrete structures dotted around.

She walked to a nearby tree. All of them looked long dead, blackened, as if they had been burned. As if this was a real battlefield.

She rapped her knuckles against it lightly, and wasn’t surprised to find that, whatever it was made of, it wasn’t organic material. Judging by the sound, she would guess styrofoam, paper mache, paint, and a dream.

A quick check of one of the structures revealed it to have no ceiling.

The entire world around them was fabricated to give the people so far above them, standing on the glass and peering down at them with excited grins she didn’t want to look at, a good view of what was going on. No leaves, no roofs, nothing was allowed to take away from their fun.

Oh shit, she thought. This is what it feels like to be in the Hunger Games.

Or to be in one of Riddler’s escape rooms, she supposed.

She watched Dick carefully toeing at the dirt, checking to see how far down it went. Whether it could actually be used as padding, or if the metal hidden beneath would give some nasty bruises if someone fell on it for any reason. Such as dramatically falling over when shot ‘dead’.

Her lips twitched into a wry kind of grin. And he’s supposed to be the ‘dumbest’ one. Who does he think that he’s fooling?

It wasn’t until long after he had confirmed that the ground was, in fact, soft enough for them all to drop dead on without issue, that an alarm alerted them to the fact that the grace period was over, and they were now supposed to be hunting each other to the death.

Marinette brushed her bangs away from her eyes, taking advantage of the opportunity to see how the audience had dispersed themselves. They were, largely, grouped into four spots. No guesses why. Sureeeeeely not because this was where the four pairs of competitors were…

Okay, that wasn’t fair to the customers. There was no way for them to know that the glass wasn’t a one way mirror like they’d been told. They shouldn’t be aware of the fact that this was all a play that had been planned out well in advance. The Waynes weren’t the types to let on that they weren’t quite as ‘airheaded’ as they often portrayed themselves to be, for whatever reason.

Still… Marinette stretched lazily, rocking back and forth on her feet, trying not to laugh aloud at just how obvious they were all being.

“So, are we heading to the center or skirting around the edges?” she asked.

“Center,” he said, because that was where most of the male clients were, and therefore where Babs and Cass were likely to be. “Let’s see whether there’s a Hunger Games-style cornucopia or something.”

Marinette clicked her tongue lightly. “You can’t tell people what we’re ripping off.”

“I think they already know.”

She huffed, but it’s not as if she genuinely cared.

Without further ado, they were off.

*****

They happened across Babs and Cass in the middle. They seemed to be doing the same thing that Marinette and Dick were, picking around for anything that might be useful. As if the people who had made this place would make an entrance in a spot where they had special items.

“Find anything?” Dick asked, pointing his gun at Babs.

Cass retaliated by pointing her gun at him. He did not seem particularly pleased about this development.

Marinette wasn’t pleased, either, because this meant she had to point her gun at Cass in retaliation. Fuck this script for making her defend Dick Grayson of all people.

Their guests looked to Babs, expecting her to point her gun at Marinette and complete the circle, leading to a dramatic standoff…

Only for Babs to hold up her hands in the universal sign of surrender. “We don’t have to fight,” she said. “It’s better if we don’t. We can’t have Jason or Tim’s teams winning.”

If nothing else, Marinette had to admit that this strategy would have probably worked on her and Dick even if it wasn’t scripted. Because fuck Tim Drake. And, in Dick’s case, Jason, in particular, cannot win, because he would be insufferable about it. They would both take shady deals in a heartbeat if it meant that the other two teams wouldn’t win.

“What do you get from this?” Marinette asked, because it was expected of her.

Cass shrugged. “Fun.”

Valid reason. Marinette (and Dick, too, though she loathed to admit it) could sometimes be fun.

As for Babs…

“If we’re the last two teams, I want to shoot Dick in the face.”

Dick gave a screech of offense, complaining about his ‘beautiful face’. But Marinette sees now downsides! They shook on it before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Alright, team, let’s roll out,” said Babs.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Dick whined.

“No. We are misandry-ing,” Marinette informed him.

“Perfect. Us girlies have to stick together,” Babs joked lightly.

“True. Can’t wait to kill ‘my liege’ for the sake of women everywhere,” Marinette said, snickering to herself.

Dick snorted at the ‘my liege’ callback, and then seemed to process what she had said. He pressed a hand to his chest. “Excuse you, I’m a girlie, too.”

“Woo, slay queen,” Marinette deadpanned. And then she frowned to herself. “Is ‘my liege’ a gendered term?”

“I… think so?” said Babs. The grammar rules for royalty is not the kind of thing the average teenager is looking up, after all. And, if Babs doesn’t know, then Cass (ESL speaker) and Dick (a liar pretending to be the ‘dumb one’ in a group already known for being stupid) had no shot. Pain. She must live without knowing for the next few hours. Why does god hate her so? Truly, she has suffered more than Jesus.

… perhaps it is jokes like that that make god hate her.

Whatever. She did not believe in Him, therefore He could not hurt her.

Anyways.

“Let’s roll out, then, I guess,” she said.

“Only I’m allowed to make that joke,” said Babs.

Marinette blinked. And then her face reddened. “Oh — I—!”

Cass shook her head in mock disappointment.

Marinette huffed. “Is it too late to un-team?”

“Nah, we shook on it, it’s binding,” Babs said.

Well. If that’s the case. They rolled ou— started off in search of others.

It was, honestly, a lot of meandering around. If they managed to go in the right direction too many times, the illusion would break, after all.

But, if nothing ‘entertaining’ was happening, they needed to work extra hard to have interesting conversations to listen in on. Which was hard. Usually, they entertained their guests by flirting, which was easy and didn’t take that much mental energy, but that was no longer really an option. They weren’t going to flirt with each other, especially since Dick and Cass were siblings and Dick and Babs were exes (Dick once again ruining things for everyone, shame on him). So…

Marinette walked alongside Babs. “If you don’t mind me asking, how the heck are you able to use your wheelchair when the ground is like this?” she said. The wheels didn’t look all that special, after all – it was all clearly high-quality, don’t get her wrong, but it wasn’t like she was looking at the wheelchair version of four wheel drive. And the gun in her lap was barely even moving.

“That’s the most fucked up question anyone’s ever asked me,” deadpanned Babs.

Marinette huffed. “Now, I just don’t think that’s true.”

“When have I ever lied?”

“I’m still convinced that the debt was a scam,” she sniffed.

Babs rolled her eyes but distinctly didn’t deny it. Because she couldn’t, clearly, not because she just didn’t feel that this was worth her time or energy. “This isn’t any worse than going down sidewalks.”

Marinette envisioned the Average Gotham Sidewalk. Then looked at the ground. She supposed that the sticks kind of resembled used syringes, now that she thought about it, and the dirt was surprisingly much smoother than the pothole-riddled concrete.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay, makes sense, yeah.”

Well. She had done her job. Someone else needs to pick up the slack, now.

Babs sent her a flat look that said she needed to say something that would interest the audience, not just her. She fought the urge to grumble under her breath. The microphone would pick that up, too.

She turned to look at Dick.

“Okay, philosophical question: if you are aware that you are in denial, is it really denial, or is it a weird form of acceptance?”

It was silent for a moment.

“Er… I guess… acceptance?”

“But then it’s not denial. Different stage,” Cass said.

“But if you’re aware of it, it can’t be denial,” Dick argued.

Babs sighed. “How ‘aware’ is this ‘awareness’? Because, I’m pretty sure, even people in denial kind of know things are weird.”

“Nonono, you’re aware of the denial,” said Marinette. “Like, you know the thing you’re in denial about is bad and you go ‘nahhhhh’. But it’s a conscious decision.”

“Then… ugh. Denial, I guess.”

Babs and Cass started arguing. Marinette was pretty sure this was the most talkative and passionate she had ever seen Cass.

As for the guests… they were either arguing vehemently themselves or watching other people argue with amused grins.

Marinette, discreetly, gave a little bow in Dick’s direction. He gave a huff of laughter.

By the time they stumbled across another person, Cass seemed pissed off enough to go all out. This wasn’t intentional, but it was still funny to watch Duke go from relatively calm and in control to immediately ducking behind a tree for cover for fear of death.

Until he started firing at them all, too, and they were forced to book it to the nearest shelter.

You might argue that they were cowards, and should help out Cass, and you’d be right, but…

They wouldn’t be much help, to be honest.

The way Duke and Cass were fighting was insane. Like they already knew what each other’s movements were going to be ahead of time, and thus were more intent on waiting for the other to slip up than outright outsmarting each other.

Marinette whistled lowly. “How often do you guys come here?”

“Here? This is the first time, actually,” said Dick, brightly. “But we have something like this back at the Manor.”

She hated rich people.

(This fact has been made abundantly clear over the past few chapters, but she would like to say it again. And again. For as many times as it would take for them to stop pulling Rich People Shit.)

“Woooow,” she said, trying to infuse as much fake cheeriness into her tone as was physically possible when her main thought was about how, technically, friendly fire is possible here. “What a perfectly amazing use of your money.”

He nodded his agreement. Whether or not it was joking did not matter when her blood was boiling beneath her skin. She started to lift her gun, intent on either helping Cass or betraying both Cass and Duke at once, only for a stray bullet to nail the wall by her head the moment she started to poke her head out.

She stared at the purple paint for a moment, eyes wide, before slowly shrinking back into hiding.

She was still pissed off, though!

Before her eyes could drift to Babs and she could weigh the moral implications of sending her out first, a handful of skittles was shoved in front of her face.

“Want some?” said Jason.

She nodded, taking all of the red ones and popping them in her mouth. Dick did the same, but with the green pieces, like a weirdo (who the hell prefers green?). Babs wasn’t nearly as picky, just taking a handful of the rest and popping them like pills.

And then she started to lift her gun.

Marinette nearly choked on her sweet treat.

“JASON?!” Dick yelped.

They scrambled for their own guns.

Jason managed to get a shot off on Babs before he was covered in yellow. Maybe they shot him more times than was strictly necessary, but that was what he deserved for using Skittles against them. Honestly, the fact that Dick didn’t believe in the death penalty was the only thing saving him right now.

As for Marinette… well, she had been too intent on looting his ‘corpse’ for more candy to bother with murdering him via paintball gun. After all, what if the Skittles ended up getting blood or — god forbid — paint on them? She wouldn’t even be able to kill him in retaliation for messing up her snack.

She grumbled when she found paintballs, but pocketed them for extra ammo, in case Cass won and needed more.

Then, finally, she procured her prize: a sharing size bag of candy.

Life is good.

Unless you are Jason Todd.

“Maaaaan,” he groaned. “Those are mine, y’know.”

“Shhhhh, you’re a corpse, you can’t speak,” Dick said, holding his hand out for some.

She set the paintballs in his hand instead.

And then watched on in horror as he bit down on one without thinking.

Dick stared at her for a moment, purple dripping from his mouth.

Marinette swallowed down the temptation to joke about him looking like a vampire in favor of frantically looking up whether paintballs were nontoxic or if they were about to cut this paintball tournament short.

… which she wouldn’t mind, actually, now that she thought about it...

She considered the google page saying that they were nontoxic (for humans, at least, apparently they were not good for animals, which Damian was going to be distressed about when he learned), wondering whether an ambulance visit would be added to her debt. And then decided she didn’t want to risk it.

“You’re fine.”

Want to know who wasn’t fine? Cass and Duke. Apparently, in the time it took for everything to settle, Duke and Cass had killed each other off. Or, well, Duke had slipped up and Cass had ‘died’ in solidarity with him. Mildly concerning behavior, but it was a paintball game and therefore has no real indication of actual behaviors. Hopefully. Marinette genuinely liked Cass.

No time to linger on that particular line of thought.

“If Tim wins I’m pulling a Cass,” Marinette told Dick.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “You’d already be ‘dead’ if Tim wins.”

She thought this over. “Then I’ll come back as a zombie and be killed again. Perfect.”

Jason did not seem to find this funny, but maybe he was still bitter about having his Skittles stolen. Dick grinned and, really, that’s all that matters.

“What do you think real life zombies are like?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Nonexistent.”

“Don’t know what I was expecting from the scientist,” he huffed.

“Fiiiiiine,” she said. She thought, long and hard, about what a real life zombie would be like. Blüdhaven got nuked a while back (deserved, fuck Blüdhaven), and she hadn’t yet heard of zombies, so radiation poisoning wasn’t going to do it. So probably an intentional thing — Jurassic Park style experimentation, or something. Which means that the circumstances would be controlled… except zombies would probably escape the labs, if Marinette were to ever see them. The body would have to be very cold to slow down decomposition. It wouldn’t even halt it entirely.

“Gross,” she decided.

Dick stared at her. “All that thought and you come up with ‘gross’?!”

“I’m not wrong. They’d be gross.”

“That is not the point!” he groaned. “Talk about whether you think they’d be fast or slow, strong or weak, intelligent or not! Talk about whether their decomposition would affect them!”

She snickered. “Careful, Richard, or you’re going to make people think you have a brain in there.”

For a moment, he froze. And then he purposefully relaxed, each muscle individually untensing, one by one. He laughed lightly, but it was a tad bit forced (when wasn’t it, though?). “Yeah, the zombies will come after me if they know.”

“Being stupid has its benefits, yeah?”

He chuckled humorlessly.

Before he could come up with a proper response, though, Tim wandered into their area, drawn by the sound of gunfire from Duke and Cass’s fight. Marinette and Dick pointed their guns at him immediately.

Tim narrowed his eyes. He pointed his gun at Marinette, but seemed hesitant.

Marinette fought off a smirk. She loved having plot armor. At the sight of her face, he only seemed more irritated, which was even better.

But there was nothing he could do.

He set his gun down.

“We could take him as hostage,” Dick offered. “See if that lures Damian –.”

“Nah, too risky,” said Marinette. Without any further ado, she shot Tim.

Tim fell over, and not entirely because that was standard for ‘dead’ people. He hugged himself. His dignity, breaking. In a very literal sense.

It was very quiet. Marinette’s hand found its way to her mouth.

Dick looked at her, his eyes wide and horrified.

“I know I hate you, but… I didn’t mean… I forgot that men have… Tim, I’m so sorry.”

Tim made a pitiful sound.

Shakily, he lifted a hand in a thumbs up.

She made a heart with her own hands. This did not seem to help in the slightest but, frankly, there wasn’t much else she could do.

Luckily, she didn’t need to think about it for long before she was distracted — a voice called from behind them: “Found you.”

She whipped around and shot Damian in the chest.

There were a few moments where no one knew what to do. The boy stared at the paint staining his armor bright yellow. Marinette’s grip felt clammy on her gun.

Dick tipped his head to the side consideringly.

She met his eyes.

She was no longer amused by the intelligence lingering in his gaze as he scrutinized her. She narrowed her eyes at him, briefly, daring him to say something. She wasn’t the only one hiding things, after all.

Play along, she told him. Help me fix this ending.

He relaxed his expression carefully.

They had an understanding. Despite Marinette’s supposed incompetence with guns, when startled she was quick to shoot and accurate. Despite Dick constantly acting as if he was dumb, there was clearly a brain hidden somewhere there. They both knew more than they tried to let on. Maybe that was why they didn’t have much trouble identifying each other’s acts… but, so long as their own secrets remained intact, they could keep each others’.

It was a little nerve-wracking, and yet, strangely, nice, to have someone you don’t have to lie to. That can see past it even when you try.

She smirked and lifted her gun. “See? This is why you keep your finger on the trigger, Dick.”

He grinned and held up his hands in surrender.

*****

Marinette and Dick grimaced as a cooler full of paint was poured over their backs. They definitely felt victorious right about now. This was their prize for winning. Yay them.

Sure, they didn’t exactly, genuinely earn the win, but that’s besides the point.

He looked at her. “You’ve got red in your hair.”

She yelped and brought a hand up to try and get it out, only to remember just a second too late that her hands, too, were covered in paint. She stared at the glob of paint-covered hair hanging limp in front of her eyes for a moment, devastated, and then glared at him.

“You did that on purpose.”

“I was just pointing something out for you,” he said ‘innocently’, unable to quite keep himself from smiling.

She hummed, and then slapped her hand onto his hair. He hissed and reflexively his hands flew up to touch the sore spot, only for him to realize that now he had been the one baited into getting paint in his hair.

“Marinette,” he said, smiling sweetly.

For a moment, one could almost see the regret flickering across her features.

And then he rushed forward to try and trap her in a hug. She shrieked, managing to get only a few steps before she was snatched up, dragged into the evil monster. She barely even had time to fight back before she was thrown over his shoulder, only able to yell off-brand curse words and try to writhe around in hopes of freedom – or, at least, in hopes that she could smear her own paint over every part of him she could reach.

Within minutes, they were swirling messes of red, blue, purple, and the occasional scrap of visible skin.

There were people laughing at their antics.

Both of them froze.

They looked up, and found the other members of the Host Club were enjoying the show.

As well as a few guests, but they couldn’t really retaliate against them.

So, Dick set Marinette down and they met each other’s eyes and silently resolved to make up for that by attacking their fellow club members twice as much to compensate.

*****

Marinette heaved a sigh as she sat on a bench, scrubbing paint off her arm with her millionth wet wipe of the day. Where did the green even come from?

It was then that she realized someone was nearing her.

She looked over her shoulder and found…

Well, someone her age. She recognized her, vaguely, from her English class, but their name eluded her.

The girl smiled nervously at Marinette, wringing her hands and somewhat avoiding eye contact. “I – uh – was wondering if you could Host for me sometime?”

Marinette stared at her for a moment, processing.

And then she lit up, practically jumping from her seat in order to shake the girl’s hand.

“That sounds great! What day would you –?”

She drew her hand back, and cringed at the red strings of paint now connecting their hands.

“I… don’t know if I have more wet wipes,” she said, blushing.

The girl smiled, amused. “If you walk me home, I’ll consider it even.”

Marinette hesitantly took her hand again, intertwining their fingers. “Okay. Don’t know if that’s much of a punishment, but if that’s what it takes to repay you…”

~~~~~~~~~~

TBC

Taglist: @ev-cupcake @thatonecroc @toodaloo-kangaroo @fangirlingfanatic

[crusty-chronicles]

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader x Gon/Killua)

Ch 5: Big Bad Bomber Man

Synopsis: After some much needed rest and preparation, it's time to defeat Genthru once and for all. The only problem though, one of your kids is a little too reckless.

---------------------------------------------------------------

It'd been around three days since Razor was defeated. And during that small window of time, so much had happened.

For starters, The Strip of Beach card was finally acquired and several copies were made for the other teams. Then Genthru decided to contact your small group with a few demands. He wanted The Strip of Beach card in exchange for your lives.

Like that was gonna happen.

To further prove his point, he confirmed he killed the previous members of your group. His ultimatum: meet up in Masadora within an hour or die.

Tsezguerra and Goreinu, trusting in your group of four, offered to buy 3 weeks of time to get stronger. All Tsezguerra wanted in return was card #75.

Which brings us to where we are now.

You were completely knocked out, finally getting the sleep your body desperately needed. Especially now with your injury.

It'd take months to heal, unfortunately it was time you didn't have. The best three weeks would do is leave it bruised beyond belief. You'd probably be limping at best.

Killua was seated next to your unconscious body, bandaged up hands leaving him in the same boat as you. He watched as Gon trained with Bisky and was mad at himself for his current condition. If he'd just been a little more careful, he'd be getting stronger too.

He supposed it wasn't all bad. He had time to figure out a plan that would defeat Genthru. That and he got to observe your unusual sleeping habits.

You didn't snore when you slept. And your breathing was incredibly slow, like you were purposely trying to be as silent as you could. They were habits eerily similar to his.

The weirdest one, however, was you reaching over every now and then to grab at something that wasn't there. You'd lazily toss your arm to the side and pat the ground to search. Then when you found nothing, you'd pull your arm back and grimace.

On the second day of your deep sleep, you managed to grab Killua's ankle. He was caught off guard by the sudden touch and immediately went to pry your hand off. He froze noticing something new.

Unlike the other times you came up empty handed, this time you smiled. And with your content grin came a drowsy huff.

"Got you, Kari."

It was so strange.

And even stranger was how your silent breathing had increased in volume. Your stiff posture was now relaxed.

Killua decided he'd ask you about it when this was all over.

-------------------------------

You'd awoken in the afternoon of the third day, catching the last of Bisky and Killua's conversation.

"-does clear the training, being able to send your enemies flying isn't lethal."

"That's exactly right. The only purpose of training at this level is to give him more options to draw on."

You gave a small yawn as you sat up. You kept hearing a small puff of air followed by a light thud. Cracking open your eyes, you saw Gon. Seems he got a good deal stronger. It was also him causing the repetitive commotion.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Bisky teased.

You slowly turned your head in her direction, eyelids still droopy. You gave another yawn and stretched out your injured leg.

"How long was I out?"

"About three days," she answered.

"Yeah, three whole days of listening to your loud snoring, " Killua added in.

You gave a tired glare.

"I do not snore."

"Yeah you do. You're like a foghorn. And you drool too, all gross and everything."

"Fine, be all mean. After I was gonna train you out of the kindness of my heart. But alas, your slander with not go unpunished."

A beat of silence

Then laughter from the two of you.

When you regained your composure, you directed your attention to Bisky who had been watching the exchange with a softness in her eyes.

"So just what do you have that poor boy doing?" You asked pointing at Gon.

"Emitter training. Just another defensive measure to fall back on." Bisky answered.

You watched as Gon went up by a few inches and then straight back down. His aura was determined, but it was slowly shifting into frustration.

"He won't get anywhere if he keeps forcing it. I'd help him if my ability wasn't heavily visual based," you said.

"Speaking of abilities, I need to know both yours and Bisky's. If I'm gonna come up with a halfway decent plan, I need to know just what exactly you two can do," Killua explained.

You pointed at yourself.

"Speed." It didn't seem the appropriate time to divulge in your full ability yet.

"Your leg's broken, idiot," Killua chastised.

"I'll be good enough in three weeks so long as I rest." You gave a lazily smile.

"Fine, but you better be prepared. Bisky, what can you do?"

She lifted up a finger, her powerful aura surrounding her small form. Then her nen conjured up a woman.

"Allow me to introduce my ability: Cookie the magical masseuse!"

The WHAT???????

"Her various massage techniques are caresses of pure bliss," Bisky continued happily.

"They melt away fat deposits and leave you feeling heavenly. Aura is transmuted into special lotion, smoothing and rejuvenating your skin. Her shiatsu makes you beautiful from the inside out. Relieving constipation, stiff muscles, chills, anything that ails you."

You stifled a laugh. For someone so strict and straight to the point, she sure did have an odd ability. You looked over at Killua whose eye was twitching in slight irritation.

"And is that it?" He questioned lightly, still not believing what was transpiring.

Bisky lit up once again.

"No, of course not! She does chiropractic, swedish, and deep tissue massage too! And that's only the beginning!"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back for Killua.

"What are you an idiot!!!?!?! That crap is completely useless!!!!"

You thumped him with the end of your crutch.

"Watch your language!" You warned.

He turned to glare at you.

"Watch my language!?!? You said way worse when you were arguing with Asta!!!!"

"You were supposed to have your ears covered!!!!! You fibber!!!! And what's with this insulting Bisky's ability!!!"

"IT SUCKS!!!"

"IT'S OBVIOUSLY THE MOST USEFUL POWER IN THE WORLD!!!" Bisky defended.

"YEAH, FOR OLD PEOPLE!!!"

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM BISKY!!! YOUR ABILITY IS FANTASTIC!!! IT MIGHT EVEN HELP WITH MY LEG!!!! You interjected.

"A-HA! YOU'RE JUST SAYING THAT SO SHE USES HER ABILITY ON YOU!!!'

You stuck your tongue out at the small assassin.

--------------------------------------------------

You let a few more days pass by before you helped out with the boys' training. Your first step: helping out the frustrated boy in green.

You were sitting up against a boulder, not having got up yet. Just a little while longer.

"Hey Gon!" You called out as he fell over.

"Yeah?" His mood lightened up a little.

"Come here for a sec!"

He got up and walked over to you. He looked tired.

"Show me what you were just doing." Maybe if you saw up close with your eyes, you might be of some use afterall.

He got into position, a one armed handstand. A small surge of nen surrounded his palm, then before it had time to charge up, a small puff was released. He didn't go up any further than a few inches. You could feel his aura once again shift into frustration.

"I just can't seem to get it right now matter how hard I try!" Gon lamented. He once again flopped over in defeat. You softly thumped his forehead.

"Course not, bozo. You're trying a little too hard. So much so that you're not actually focusing on what you're doing."

He looked up at you with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not really training if it's a one and done, right? Let's try something a little different, okay?" You offered a tired smile.

You raised your palm up and surrounded it with aura, then you gestured to your head and transferred it there.

"Remember this?"

Gon nodded and repeated the action.

"Good, now let's keep that aura around your palm. Keep it there and start adding onto it. Kinda like if you were to charge up your jan-ken thing."

Gon once again did as you instructed. The aura duplicated twice its size in seconds. He looked back to you.

"Keep going, and when you feel like it's big enough, push and release."

He kept charging up for a few more seconds, then finally let go. The result was a decent gust of wind and debris.

"Now try it from the position Bisky showed you."

Gon went over all the steps in his head again before trying. Move the aura to his palm. Charge it up. Then push and release.

To his surprise he went up higher than usual. At least by a foot or two. He got back into his feet and beamed down at your relaxed state.

"Atta boy! Now keep on practicing and don't get discouraged if you're still having trouble." His grin seemed to double in size at your praise. And all traces of frustration in his aura were gone.

"Promise. Thanks Y/n!"

-------------------------------------------------

You never pegged yourself as a teacher. You never liked the responsibility of the title. Never liked the expectations that came with it. Even as a child you disliked the term. But you were a helper. You liked to show your peers an easier, more efficient way. (Or at least you had)

A way that built up people's strength gently, rather than the harsher methods used on you to get results.

You despised the idea, but time was of the essence. You couldn't afford to be as laxed as you would've wanted.

Gon was already exhausted with the training Bisky was putting him through. She was better equipped for handling his enhancer abilities.

Killua, on the other hand, was more of a cautious than offensive boy. He'd be better suited for what you had instore. Plus, you could tell he was a little envious that he wasn't training like Gon was. So, even though you knew you wouldn't be as gentle as before, you decided you'd train him.

You wouldn't work him too hard.

"Get up, lazy bones," You woke him up on the 9th day. He got up, but grumbled about it being too early.

"You wanna get stronger, no?"

"What, you mean you're actually gonna train me? I thought you were just joking." He looked a little shocked that you had followed through.

The sound of Gon still trying to get down his emitter training reverberated throughout the area.

"Yup, don't want the other one leaving you behind, do you?"

Killua sat up fast, giving you his full attention.

You summoned a bucket from one of the item cards and tossed it his direction.

"Fill it up with small rocks no bigger than your pinky nail."

"Really, that's lame," he groaned out.

"It'll make sense in a little bit, plus I can't get up and do it myself. Broken leg."

"Fine."

He came back a few minutes later with the bucket full of small rocks.

"Now what?"

You gestured for him to move back until he was at least fifteen feet away from where you sat upon your boulder. When he was in place, you rummaged for a pebble and flicked it fast at him. He was hit directly in the middle of his forehead.

"OW!!" He clutched the area in pain. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!"

You kept launching the small rocks at a startling pace, watching as Killua failed to dodge them.

"Focus your eyes to see where they're coming from. Then focus on making your body move fast enough to dodge them. Each rock you dodge is a minute you get for break. When the bucket's empty, you are to fill it back up. We'll do this for three days straight." You explained the terms while continuing to flick the rocks at him.

Even though he was getting absolutely wailed on, Killua's aura was happy and a smidge excited.

"That all? I'll have this down by the end of the day."

-----------------------------------------------------

It was actually the third day he got most of it down, just like you predicted. He's able to dodge a little more than half the bucket. Decent for a beginner.

Too bad you only had 9 days left.

You'd leave the poor boy alone so he could continue coming up with a plan. Perhaps you would check up on Gon. He did make quite the fuss while you were focused on Killua. You heard him asking Bisky if he could take a break to join in on your training because it 'looked fun' and 'you explained things better.'

Maybe you'd show him a new trick or two after Genthru was defeated.

You waited until Bisky took Killua a little ways away to discuss what he came up with. You glanced over at your crutches. Not yet.

You called Gon over to you again. His frustration was very much evident. He hadn't been able to get any higher since the last time you helped.

"Sit with me, will you?"

Your question caught the boy in green off guard.

"What? I don't think now's the time to take a break. I have to keep go-"

"Sit." Your tone was smidge harsher.

He begrudgingly sat in front of you, jittering slightly to get back to training. This was really bothering him, wasn't it?

"You haven't made anymore progress?" You voice was unusually soft.

Gon shook his head.

"Why is this so hard? I get everything else, but this...this seems impossible."

You reached out and placed your hand on top of his head, giving a gentle ruffle.

"There are just some things you can do and some you can't. Doesn't mean you failed anyone or that you're not good enough. You just gotta make up for the things you can't do with the things you can. Make sense?"

You could feel him start to relax. He glanced up and stared at you with newfound determination.

"Yeah!" Then his gaze softened. "Y'know, you'd make a really good parent one day!" He said with a wide smile.

For the first time ever in your life, you were embarrassed. It was new, so very new and had you covering your suddenly too warm face.

"You can't just-!!! Why would you-!!!! Let's set the record straight, I'm nobody's-!!!!"

Your rambling was cut off by Gon.

"Well I guess big sibling, more like it. You're not all that old after all." He gave a light laugh after he finished correcting himself.

Still very much embarrassed, you slapped your palm against his mouth.

"Shush! Not another word and don't even think about telling Killua!!!" You would be far too embarrassed to deal with the other boy's teasing.

You weren't used to this.

You hadn't been for quite sometime.

But Razor's words started to ring true.

"Those boys, they look up to you so much already."

Damnit

Damnit all

Just when had you gone so soft.

You were a loner. And you deserved to be, rightfully so.

And yet....

Yet here was this kid giggling at your flustered state like he just found out about an embarrassing secret. Maybe you didn't deserve it, but you sure as hell longed for it.

A life worth living with people worth protecting.

She'd want that for you, wouldn't she?

---------------------------------------------

With only five more days left, and not enough progress made, it was decided Gon would stop his emitter training. It was time to start setting things in motion.

"Gon, your time's up. Training's over." Killua was the one who stopped the boy in green.

Said boy, wasn't too happy by these turn of events.

"But we still have 5 days!!!!"

"Had a change in plans. We formed a new strategy to defeat them."

"Yeah but! Hold on-!" Gon was trying his best to come up with an excuse. Then his eyes met yours and he doubled his efforts.

"C'mon, you know I'm close, right???? I just need a little more time!!! I've almost got it!!!"

Way to put you on the spot.

"Kid, you can barely go two feet up. Five days isn't gonna make that big a difference. Plus you'll be completely exhausted and unable to fight. It's best to cut your losses and keep moving forward."

Gon pouted, having no other rebuttal.

"Now then, the plan is-" Killua started.

----------------------------------------------

Team Tsezguerra had been radio silent for over 10 days, with their status saying they've left the game. It seemed likely Genthru got to them until Goreinu used contact to explain the situation.

They left for good and gave the cards of value to Goreinu.

Which meant nothing was stopping Genthru from coming after your group now. And your suspicions were confirmed as you felt three malicious auras approaching.

"They're coming." You were grateful for the extra days Tsezguerra's disappearance provided. You could stand and if you tried to walk, you'd limp. As long as you didn't run, you'd be okay.

Killua broke the silence as Genthru's group landed, sticking to script he came up with.

"What do you want!?"

"No need to be hostile. Let's just make a deal."

The bomber's aura was full of deceit. Not that you needed to use your ability to see that.

"With you?!? We're not interested!" Killua continued.

"It's not a bad deal, you know? In fact, it's so good that even Tsezguerra agreed to it."

You bit your tongue to stop your smart ass remark. God these men were repulsive.

"What is it!?!"

"Curious now?" Genthru said as he started to approach.

"Don't move! You can talk from over there!" Gon's words stopped him in his tracks.

"It's actually surprisingly simple," the bomber picked up from where he left off. "We'll beat the game on everyone's behalf. Then everyone returns to the real world and splits Battera's reward."

So all this was for money?

All those people dead, no murdered...

For money

You clenched your hands, trying your best to keep your bubbling anger at bay. You had to stick to the plan. Lashing out would do no good, and you had a part to play at the moment.

"Why should we trust you? You're not exactly good people, so forgive us for not taking such a generous offer at face value." You couldn't help the sarcasm that dripped into your tone.

"We've just had a little change in heart," Genthru responded.

Liar

"And Tsezguerra and the others have already left the game."

"Yeah? But that still doesn't prove he agreed to your offer," Killua countered.

"Yes, that's true." You could feel the bloodlust surfacing from Genthru.

"Then you'd rather...die here?" It spiked all at once.

"JUST SHUT UP AND GIVE US ALL YOUR CARDS! OTHERWISE WE'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!"

How pathetic.

Your group made fast steps away to retreat, beginning to put the plan into full swing.

Not before you and Killua gave once last taunt.

"Finally showing your true colors, huh!!!!"

"I always knew you weren't right upstairs!!!" You gestured to your head as Gon summoned his book.

"Book! Accompany on! To Soufrabi!!!"

The chase was on

Wherever your group went, Genthru's wasn't far behind. After using up the Accompany cards, you all used Return to get back to Masadora.

Having no other choice, Genthru's group used their last Accompany to find where you guys were. The four of you took off running, with you lagging a little behind.

Each step hurt like hell, but you forced yourself to keep going until you had Genthru's group right where you wanted them.

They 'surrounded' the four of you as planned.

"Now, why don't you give up and hand over your cards?

"Why don't you give up and stop trying to murder children? Really, all this for a few cards?" You may or may not have been trying to stall for your leg to recoup. Didn't mean you were wrong though.

"If they're just cards you shouldn't have a problem turning them over."

Asshole. Luckily Gon redirected the conversation.

"We'll never let you have them! If you want our cards, come and get them!!!!"

"Wait! What? Damnit!" Killua pretended to be caught off guard. Then to sell the deal he said-

"Bisky! Get out of here, now!"

"But I-" She appeared hesitant to leave.

"I said run!" The small assassin jumped back as one of Genthru's men lunged forward and gave chase. You faked a gasp of surprise.

"Killua!!!" And followed after them. You could see the other goon go after Bisky. Which left Gon with Genthru.

God you hoped he'd hold out.

The plan, at least your part of the plan was simple. Because you weren't a fighter, you'd go after Killua and shadow him since he was still injured. Then you'd check on Bisky, just in case. And finally, you'd back track to Gon and see if he was okay. He was no doubt the strongest of your group, but you didn't trust Genthru one bit.

You could already feel his bloodlust increase.

--------------------------------------------

Killua led the enemy to an open area, with you not too far behind. You were being sloppy on purpose, and even though this brute could sense you, he still opted for attacking Killua first.

What a pathetic fool.

You supposed it worked in your favor. By the time the goon got a hit in and turned around, you were in place.

He couldn't even fathom what had happened besides the searing pain washing over his body.

You were leaning against a tree, a very familiar bucket by your side.

"Come on, if a twelve year old kid can take it, why can't you?" You taunted. The fool tried to get up and charge at you again, only to be pelted by more, larger, rocks.

"I'm not a fighter, so you'll have to excuse my rude etiquette. I'm more of a spectator. Come closer if you'd like, but I'm afraid you won't get very far."

"WHY YOU!!!!" He rushed forward, punch at the ready.

"You really shouldn't take your eyes off your real enemy." Killua appeared behind the man with electricity radiating off his palms. He placed them on the man's back, giving him a shock that sent him flying.

He stood paralyzed.

You glanced over to the white haired boy.

"That was slow, gremlin. I thought we went over speed."

He let out a huff.

"Yeah, yeah. Let me just experiment with a few more things." Then his mood lightened a bit.

"I've got a really cool one I think you might like. Let me know what you think."

Genthru's teammate looked very confused by the exchange between the two of you. Even more so when Killua pulled out a yo-yo.

You couldn't help the little 'ooh' that slipped out.

"Alright, let's go!" He threw the toy towards Genthru's man, narrowly avoiding him. The same couldn't be said for the tree that splintered on impact and collapsed.

You gave a small laugh.

"Christ, Killua! If I ever did anything that made you upset I'm sorry," your voice was full of amusement, not at all phased by the surprisingly strong yo-yo.

"WHAT THE HELL!?!? WHAT'S IT MADE OF!?!" Now, the man's aura radiated fear.

Killua continued doing what would have been normal tricks with the deadly toy.

"It's my brother's alloy. He came up with it himself. Weighs around 50kg. Packs a real punch. See!" He lobbed the yo-yo once again at the man.

You didn't hear that often about Killua's family, besides the few pieces he told you. (They were assassins and abused trained their kids). So hearing him talk fondly about his brother was a little strange.

Your train of thought was interrupted by what the goon thought was a successful attack.

He disarmed Killua and kicked his side. Poor fool was so distracted he didn't even notice the second yo-yo come from behind. The cracking sound let you know he probably broke his skull.

"Uh oh. Did I forget to mention I have two yo-yos?" Icy eyes beamed at you.

"Bet you didn't see that coming! Impressed yet?"

You put your hands up in surrender.

"Okay, I'll admit it. That was pretty unexpected. And cool. But I can sense another trick up your sleeve."

The guy in the floor was barely conscious at this point, but conscious nonetheless.

"An encore? Who am into refuse a humble request."

Then Killua was standing over the enemy.

"Hey old man, did you know that when you kick me you raise up your guard arm? It's like you're making your own blindspot."

Dread encompassed the man's aura, as if he just now realized it.

"Hang on! So that means that your blocking habit was-"

"Fake," you interjected. "It was pretty obvious. Nobody's stupid enough to get hit in the same place twice."

"And the first yo-yo, when he released it?"

"Yeah, I knew you picked something up to throw at me," Killua responded.

"Let's just say my eyes have been trained to look out for small rocks." He continued with a shiver.

"But you're great full for it, aren't you!!" You added.

"Yup! Without a doubt!" Killua said hurriedly.

What can you say, you loved giving people a hard time.

"That's enough talk for now," Killua raised up his arms with both yo-yos wound around them.

"Say goodnight, old man!" He released them, hitting Genthru's teammate directly on the back of his skull. Then he transferred his electricity down the strings and shocked him.

Once again, the young boy looked over to you with expectant eyes.

"So, what did you think?"

These boys really had to stop doing that.

"Hell of a job, kid. Let's see, I think if I had to choose... The last attack was definitely my favorite. Good touch adding your ability, really gave it that Killua flair."

He gave a wide grin, almost as wide as Gon's. Which was adorable on your end.

"Ha! Told you you'd like that one!"

Your own smile faded slightly.

"You'll be fine here on your own?"

"Yeah, I doubt this guy'll be getting up anytime soon. Are you sure you'll be fine?" He said eyeing you as you limped forward.

"This isn't my first rodeo, kid. Hell it hardly even hurts." You lied straight through your teeth.

It felt like you were standing on pins and needles. But loose ends needed tying.

--------------------------------------------------

You focused your eyes searching for the familiar auras of Bisky and Gon. Both strong, but one was a bit more refined. The other jittery.

You covered a substantial amount of distance before you were right in the middle of the two. The refined aura was by itself. Bisky already won her fight.

And before you could fully analyze the other, you felt an immense explosion of nen.

He didn't

He couldn't have

Damnit

You took off as fast as your injury would allow in the direction of the nen.

The same direction a very familiar aura was in.

Please be okay

---------------------------------------------

Pain

Excruciating, searing pain was all Gon could feel.

He sacrificed his arm to get a good kick on Genthru, and he could live with that. But his true mistake was believing for one second that Genthru would tell the truth. That he'd concede so easily.

Time seemed to slow down as he watched Genthru clench his fist and move it to strike. He could feel it graze his throat and then....

Nothing.

For a second, he couldn't feel the pain at all.

Just warmth.

He realized then that he couldn't see and his feet weren't touching the ground anymore.

Was he being carried?

"You're such a fool."

Y/n?

----------------------------------------------

You cradled Gon close to your chest, as if to shield him from the world. You made it just barley. One second later and his windpipe would've been shattered.

You didn't have the time to assess his injuries before you scooped him up, but you could smell the gunpowder residue. You could smell the burnt flesh.

You held the boy a little closer to you.

Yes, you were glad you prevented further injury, but you were also upset.

Upset at Genthru for taking advantage of Gon's naivety.

Upset at Gon for being so reckless.

And upset at yourself for not being faster.

"So you've finally come out to fight? What's the matter, did Sub already kill the other boy?" Genthru was trying to taunt you.

But you could feel his hesitance to attack. He didn't even know what happened himself until you were a good distance away with Gon.

His threats went of deaf ears though, you paid him no mind as you finally built up the strength to look at Gon's injuries.

"Don't worry, I'll kill the both of you so you'll be reunited in death!!!" He lunged forward, hand inches away from your shoulder, and then felt nothing. He tried to attack again but missed.

Every lunge, every reach of his arm, every quick movement you evaded. The worst part, you weren't even looking at him when you did. You didn't address him, didn't acknowledge him.

There was no way you were this fast!

There was no way you could be moving at a faster speed than him and not even be phased!

What the hell was going on!

On your end, you were torn between two choices. It would be so easy to take off with the boy in your arms. Let someone else take over and deal with the outcome. But it wasn't your place to do so.

No matter how badly you didn't want to see him suffer, this was his fight. You should let him find out the hard way and finish it.

But no kid should have to go through this.

He could barely stare up at you with one eye open and the other swelled shut. Nevermind his completely charred wrist and now stubbed arm.

At least the explosions had cauterized the wounds.

His aura was nervous with a hint of guilt. Judging by the look he was giving you, you must've appeared pissed.

"Don't- don't be mad at me, Y/n." He whispered out and clutched the front of your shirt.

Your previous frustration was replaced by concern.

"I know I was wrong for being selfish, but I just wanted to-" He cut himself off and hugged you tighter.

"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. Please."

He just had his arm blown off and the thing he was worried about was your forgiveness.

Sometimes you couldn't tell who had it worse. Killua who was never shown an ounce of genuine love from his family, or Gon who felt if he got one thing wrong he would never be good enough for anybody.

You weren't upset anymore, but you still needed to lecture the boy on his carelessness.

"I'm not mad...not at you. Okay, not at you." Your words slightly relaxed him.

"But it's time for some tough love, okay?"

You felt him nod.

"No more messing around. No more trying anything that leaves you open for attacks. Either take the fight seriously or quit."

At last he looked up at you.

"I wanna finish it. I don't wanna let him get away with all the people he's hurt."

"Then stop acting like a prideful fool and do it."

By this point, Genthru was still trying and failing to land a hit on you. He saw you limping earlier, so it made no damn sense why you were still so fast.

He was left even more confused when you suddenly vanished from in front of him.

------------------------------------------------

You moved to set Gon down behind Genthru. Just as you did with Killua, you would shadow him in case anything else went wrong.

Gon quickly used an item card and summoned a jar of gasoline. By the time Genthru turned around, the jar was already broken and he was doused in the flammable liquid.

Genthru looked shocked by the sudden attack. Then he regained his murderous aura.

"Oh I see, this is gasoline. That's a good one. It's true that I can't use Little Flower now, however, I have another ability. Countdown."

Wasn't that the one that had been on Abengane's shoulder?

"You may recall that I can set a bomb on someone, and all I have to do is touch them and say the word 'bomber.'"

So it was the same one. The very attack that killed hundreds in seconds.

"And if you intend to disarm it, your only recourse would be to touch me while saying 'I caught the bomber.'" Genthru continued. He then looked back to where you were.

"All of the activation requirements have been met. If I touch him and say bomber, the countdown will begin. The boy's as good as dead, but I might be willing to spare him if you convinced him to hand over the cards."

You glared daggers at the sadistic man.

"Try it, but this kid won't lose that easily. In fact, I'd say your time is just about up." You pointed behind him as Gon started to charge up his attack.

"My requirements have been met too! Now, show me rock!" His fiery nen encompassed his good hand.

You could feel the surprise from Genthru once more.

"Jan-Ken-Rock!!!"

Gon punched straight down, effectively activating the trap. You jumped back slightly to avoid falling into the giant crater.

You focused your eyes to monitor the two auras below you. Genthru was right in the center.

Good, he was in place.

You watched as the giant boulder from before was released from the item card. It was too big to dodge, still you couldn't be sure until it crashed down.

You saw Gon's aura approach the other, then spike in what you assumed was a final attack. The other aura flickered, then disappeared.

He won.

Thank goodness!

You'd been so worried

You quickly ran down the wall of the crater and towards the secret tunnel Gon was in. He was already beaming up at you when you got there.

"Told you I could do it!" His smile was wiped away as the pain flared from his charred arm.

You flashed him a pained smile of your own. Your leg was killing you now that the adrenaline had worn off. But at least now you could relax a little.

"Yeah, you sure did. I'm proud of you." Your tone was uncharacteristically soft. It'd be a lot easier to stay mad at him if he didn't have her eyes.

You leaned down despite the pain of your left leg.

"Alright, let's go meet up with the others, you munchkin." You scooped him up into your arms once more.

"What about Genthru? How are you gonna carry him up?"

"I've got it covered, though I can't imagine it'd be a comfortable ride for him. Not like he deserves one anyway."

You felt Gon relax in your arms.

Shifting his weight onto one, you used the other hand to form strands of nen. You willed them to wrap around Genthru's body. It'd been a while since you had to use that part of your ability.

When you were sure the strands were sturdy enough, you took off, using leftover nen on the bottoms of your feet to help scale up the crater.

---------------------------------------------------

Fun Fact #6: Y/n LOVES sweets, having been denied them so much during childhood.

MASTERLIST

----------------------------------------

AN: Who's not ready to enter the Chimera Ant arc and relive the trauma? 😬🤚

[hekateinhell]

Vamptember, Day 7: Reverse AU

adult vampire!Claudia and little mortal!Lestat | M | 1.3k | tags: abuse and SA mentions/references, gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

New Orleans, 1808

Winter in New Orleans makes the evenings draw on longer. 

Meaning that Claudia has to create her own entertainment lest she go mad with boredom; she takes what she wants and does as she pleases. 

How many other women can say that? 

Sitting in front of the vanity, turning her head from side-to-side, pondering which role best suits her temperament tonight.

Pity she had been a poor white’s daughter at her death, malnourished to the point of missing her menses at the mature age of twenty. Oh, how utterly brutal the beatings were when her father and brothers caught on and arrived at the wrong conclusion! 

Whore. Slut. Witch. 

Such a rabid pleasure to crush each of their skulls between her hands the night she’d returned to the dingy little shack by the river. A giggle escaping her at each agonizingly slow crack of bone, delighting in their futile struggles. Dark torrents of blood igniting the demonic thirst inside her, and finally, the gelatinous messes — more fun than mud pies — gushing as she digs her thumbs into their eye sockets. 

Eyes that had violated her long before their ever hands did. 

“Witch!” 

“And yet it’s you that shall burn at the stake tonight, father dearest! Fancy that!” 

She beams at her reflection at the memory, the blonde ringlets that cascade over her small breasts bouncing as she trembles with poorly suppressed anticipation. Not a wasteful eater, no, but she does enjoy playing with her food. 

Finishing touches, a robin’s blue ribbon in her hair, her corset cinched tight to create the hourglass figure she most certainly did not possess. 

Childbearing hips that would never bear onto her a child, the son that the Lord she once prayed to for deliverance had sent to her in her dreams. A promise that one day she would have final dominion over the male sex. 

Flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood. 

Holy Mary, mother of God.

It’s humid when she sets out, but then again, it’s always humid in New Orleans: a sinner’s city, a gambler’s paradise. Fragrant roses combine with the stench of urine and decay as she makes her way down the cobblestone streets, taking in the sounds of the night. A child cries, a man yells to his wife: You stupid bitch!; a horse and carriage trot by, the mud almost reaching her shoes; a drunkard’s piercing laugh. 

“Hey, pretty lady, what are you doing all by your lonesome? Don’t you know what happens to dainty little things like you in places like these?”

Sounds like a tramp but means well. He has two sisters at home; one older and one younger. Claudia reminds him of the youngest. 

“Oh, I didn’t know! I’m new to the area, you see, and terribly disoriented! I don’t mean to trouble you Sir, but it is awfully late and now I am awfully frightened… If you could please escort me to my home, I have been trying to find my way back for hours to no avail!” She knows what men like to hear.

She can be demure.

Helpless. 

“Of course, darling,” he proffers her his arm which she graciously accepts, “I know this city like the back of my own hand.” 

Perfect. 

A quick, satisfying break of his elbow and his knees soon follow before she takes her first drink of the night, the gambler’s luck running dry as his sweet blood runs down her throat. His heart pounding on her tongue, the glorious resistance she craves gradually fading. No, no! Fight me more, handsome. Fight me just as hard as I fought them! Alas, it is finished and Claudia pulls back, wiping her mouth on her lace glove. 

She stands in the shadows, still clutching the body, savoring the aftertaste. Not an evil soul, merely one made unfortunate by virtue of his sex, as she had once been.  

A hunter as shrewd as she, a woman who’d been raised to have the survival instincts of a prey animal in the jungle, shouldn’t have been caught off guard by sudden wailing so high-pitched, Claudia cringes into herself. Relentlessly loud and surely bound to attract attention!

The body hits the ground with a wet thud as another, much smaller body barrels into her skirts, clinging to her legs. 

Images flash through the child’s mind; he can’t be older than five. A brute of a father raising his fists. A mother cold and impassive, her nose in a book as her children wept for her affections, even her scolding lacked interest. “Quiet down, Lestat.” Blonde and beautiful yet gaunt — Claudia had she lived another ten years, perhaps. Lived the wretched life she was destined to have, like her mother before her and her mother before her. 

This woman doesn’t want her child, and the decision is made. 

“There, there,” she drops to her knees to embrace the boy. His hair tangled unkempt, a shade strikingly similar to hers. His face covered in dirt, the scrapes along his arms and legs still oozing blood. Delirious from terror, hunger, and exhaustion, and in the darkness, he thinks she is his mother.

Claudia swallows back her thirst. 

“I didn’t mean it!” he sobs as he presses himself flush to her chest, burrowing into her sharp collarbone. Tears, dirt, and mucus smear all over the cotton of her dress, her hardened skin. “I didn’t mean to run! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I want to go home! I’ll be good! I’ll listen, I promise!”

Yes, Claudia's decision has been made, but not here. 

“I know, dearest,” she lifts him off the ground and he settles momentarily, soft and warm. Pulls back to stare at her face, large grey eyes blinking at her. 

He touches her cheek, curious and gentle. Frowns. 

“Mama, you’re so cold.” 

There’s a second where she can feel his hummingbird heart quicken, little rosebud mouth pinching as he sniffles loudly, the tears gathered on his long lashes suspended as he holds her stare with intensity. But then it passes, and he rests his head on her shoulder.

“You need a blanket, Mama,” he sighs and drops his sticky fingers from her cheek, bringing his thumb to his mouth instead. She, too, had suckled her thumb until far too old an age. 

Back home, she cleanses his face.

He whines in his sleep, whimpering into her palm. Fragile and pitiful as the newborn kittens her brother Edgar had drowned to punish her. 

Her clothes are too big, and the doll’s clothes are too small. She cuts a nightgown three-quarters of the way short. The candle flickers and so does her confidence, but it’s too late now. His lifeblood flowing over her tongue, his little heart going and going, refusing to give up! Burst after vibrant burst, innocence devoured. 

Mama, Mama… I love you, Mama.

Claudia groans with it, the flavor of unrivaled purity unlike anything she's ever sampled before. She's never had to catch herself at the very edge of the precipice before; the shadow of a thought passes through her mind that perhaps she doesn't have to — she'll gorge herself on this one and find another to suit the same purpose: make for herself a son sculpted in her unholy image alone. 

But this precious heart! It still won't surrender! How can she trust that she will ever find another with not only the looks to match hers, but one that reflects back to her her own unbroken tenacity? 

“Mama’s here,” she tears open her bodice, exposing her breast, the dark blue vein at the underside. Makes the incision, guiding the child’s mouth to it. She will be Thetis reimagined in the spirit of the new age, submerging the baby Achilles in the River Styx to grant him immortal life, this time careful to fully saturate the heel.

The greedy thing latches quickly, reflexes of an infant still nestled in his subconscious as he takes all that Claudia has to offer.

It must be the male in him. 

“Mama’s here,” she repeats, stroking his hair, humming a long-forgotten lullaby.

Once, a poor woman’s only comfort to her daughter. Now, a little boy’s dirge.

“And you’ll be good for your Mama, won’t you, Lestat?”

[skunkes]

I wanna say how much I absolutely LOVE how you draw Al, it's been really helpful and enjoyable to figure out in my own process of learning how to draw body fat!!! I'm really happy with where I'm at in that journey too.

One day I will have enough money saved up to commission you for the character that has his same body type too... so excited

YIPPEE thank u! random but if u want to be inspired by more art i will always sing praises of zaftiguy2 on twitter (though i will warn its mainly nsfw!) (also alas his main account got hacked so theres less art on this one 😔) the lines and shapes he draws have been so helpful to me alongside learning anatomy, ykwim? ive watched him draw all sorts of body types that arent even his main focus and he's so amazing at The Shapes in a way that i aspire to get to....

thank u for even considering! ^_^ yeeey

[voidsentprinces]

Before going further I feel like I should make a ramble post about Emet-Selch. Like any villain in the series I am kind of lukewarm on him. I don't ship with him. I just sort of nod him in passing when the narrative wants him around.

But, Personally, I feel Emet-Selch is our Lex Luthor. He had all that power and the ability to do good but chose not to for his own reasonings. He IS a tragic figure but a figure who has done and cause a lot of death and a lot of bad. As the Emperor of Garlemald, he is the reason for most of the bad happening around the world at time of A Realm Reborn. Occupation of Doma causing Yotsuyu, the coup of Ala Mhigo and then invasion leading to Fordola. Knowingly sending Nael and her Legion to investigate Dalamud knowing full well of tempering and what would follow. Leading to Gaius's decision to go off on his own, he must of known Lahabrea's involvement with the XIVth Legion and shrugged it off. And then when that Legion is wiped out at Praetorium. Chooses that point to destablize Garlemald in a Civil War. Even when Varis ascends its a shaky one, he loses his childhood friend and Gaius's replacement to the Warring Triad. Ala Mhigo and Doma break the chains of tyranny rule. Cause Garlemald to go scorched earth, razing Dalmasca in the process.

Which leads to causing the Eastern Alliance to forge against it while contending with the Eorzean Alliance. Causing Varis to look into the Black Rose which succeeds in one time line already. But fails in this one. Leading to the world to burn in Fandaniel's ambition and Zenos's apathy. Speaking of Zenos, Emet-Selch turns a blind eye to his great grandson's suffering. Beaten on the daily to near death until he can kill his master and become the monster of the Empire and later to burn it to the ground. Which in the irony of irony leads Zenos in become instrumental to the destruction of a half formed Zodiark, Emet's prized God amongst Gods. Not to mention Emet causing interplanetary and dimensional genocide when aiding in Calamities.

Like, despite my light hearted jabs and depictions of him in some shitposts. I am under no illusion, he is a really bad guy. A kind of tragic villain who had all the power in the world and decided to use it for ill because he felt the ends justified the means. Even if he ignored the big question as to how they were going to rejoin the Thirteenth Shard which was steeped in void from Igeyorhm's failure. He is very flawed, contemptuous and charismatic enough to draw an entire Empire with his quirky sassiness. At the end of the day he was a megalomanical dictator. So like know that while I am making these somewhat postive Emet-Selch posts, my position is like:

But, its fiction. Enjoy your characters as you take em. Like all villains I ain't gonna rain on your parade if you like them. Enjoy your stuff. Its not like you're shipping yourself with Josef Stalin and people are now reimaging him like that one Founding Fathers OC. That was...uhh...that was fucking surreal.

Also while you're here I am room temperature with Zenos. But like I've made many a post about him practically just sitting around and doing nothing for a large part of the story. So I don't feel like repeating myself ad naseum. And my burning passion for Asahi and Fandaniel by proxy is only because I never got a cutscene where I straight up sucker punch them sons of bitches. I mean we even get to beat up Teledji Adeleji in Palace of the Dead. And Ilberd before he introduces his scalesona. Kind of want to lower Yuyuhase and Laurentius into Hell's Lid though.

[bamdelune]

My Eyes Fall Shut (and my Heart Loves You Again)

୨୧ Pantalone x F!Reader

Reader experiences memory loss after an unspecified event and lands herself in a room under the care of Baizhu before a certain Harbinger pays her a visit.

A small peek from one of my Pantalone drafts ! Still a work in progress but wanted to share this small snippet with someone 🫶 Notes and reblogs are always appreciated! Not beta read

The gentleness of silk and cloth devoured your figure, your body laid in a comfortable mattress. The aroma of tea filled your senses as your eyes fluttered open.

The crowned ceiling greets you first as your focus shifts around the room, your sight lays on a green-haired bespectacled man that seemed to be accompanied by an ivory snake. Your head suddenly felt heavy as an unexpected weight gave you a crushing headache. Your being felt numb,

"Ah! Miss, you're awake." The man smiled, his voice was pleasant and soothing. "Qiqi, kindly fetch me her documents, please." He asked the girl who seemed like a child beside him. She quietly nodded and showed herself out.

You hoisted yourself up, your back resting on the wooden headboard behind you. The physician—you assumed, reached out to help you get comfortable on the mattress.

You slightly flinched, every nerve in your body felt sensitive. You didn't know where you were, you didn't know him. Your mind told you to be defensive.

"Miss Y/N?" He seemed confused.

You completely brushed past the foreign name, was it supposed to be yours? Was he talking to you or somebody else? But nobody was in the room other than you and him. The name, it felt unfamiliar in your head.

"I'm truly sorry for asking but do you know where I am?" you mumbled, eyes shifting around once again.

You winced hearing a knock on the bamboo door of your room, the knob turned and the entry opened to reveal the child from earlier, holding a few pieces of paper.

"Dr. Baizhu, here are the documents you asked for." Qiqi said softly, her small fingers handing the items to the doctor.

Baizhu promptly thanked Qiqi. As he did so, another person followed into the room. The man had long deep bluish black hair, eyes with violet hues that burned through transparent glasses adorned with chains. A black sleeveless bodysuit fit his figure paired with matching coloured pants and shoes. Dark gloves decorated his hands with silver rings around most fingers. His scent subtly filled the room—a soft vanilla and floral scent.

His eyes lingered on you for a while, slightly widened as if it was a surprise you were alive and breathing.

When he spoke, it was a gentle baritone, though something put you off about him. You weren't sure what it was but it sent shivers down your spine despite the room having a typically warmer temperature.

"Ah. The Regrator. I assume you came to visit our patient here? You're usually not this late every day, no?" Baizhu forced a smile at him, even if you didn't know him all that well, you could tell how his features tensed up and tightened in the other's presence.

"I had some business to take care of. You know the responsibilities of heading Northland Bank." The "Regrator" mirrored the same smile. Their similarities were uncanny. His gaze suddenly turned to you, to which it was your turn to tense up. "How is she?"

"There's no need to rush, Harbinger. After all, she had only woken up a few minutes ago. You're free to stay idle while I observe her though." He replied, gesturing to the spot behind him which would give the other man access to see you properly.

Baizhu then turned to you, his gentleness never wavering.

"How do you feel? I suggest that you answer with honesty since I'm observing something different, behavior-wise."

Your nails dug into your skin, prints of crescents were printed in your skin with a slightly redder color. You felt faint, mind drawing to a blank as you scrambled for an answer to put into words. Alas, you remained silent for a few seconds before opening your mouth to speak.

"Pardon me, I'd address you as Dr. Baizhu, yes?"

The green-haired man simply nodded, a gentle smile still on his face. The man behind him though, the Regrator, his face a little dimmer than when he came in. His lips were turned into a visible purse.

"Yes. I suppose I'm doing alright… I awoke with a light migraine. I'm not sure how I ended up here, I do not have a recall of past events… I think. In fact, I wasn't sure you were talking to me earlier. Ah— I'm really sorry, I must've rambled about nonsensical things."

"No, no, no, dear. It's alright. Thank you for being honest." Baizhu nodded as he scribbled a few notes on the document that was brought in prior to the observation. Baizhu then turned to the bespectacled man behind him as Qiqi stepped forward to offer you some herbal tea. You thanked her, picking up the small cup, the warmth spreading from the tea to your skin. When your lips met the rim, a mild flavor of sweet grass entered. It was sugary but not too much. It was just right.

You eavesdropped on the two men's conversation about your condition, though you couldn't hear that much coherently. As you tried to observe what their expressions were, the Regrator shared a glance at you, eyebrows furrowed with eyes full of longing expressions. As if your condition was the most terrible thing that could have ever happened in the history of Teyvat. The ever-so-stoic (or so you assumed) Regrator's icy aura cracked under your unknowing gaze.

[mediocrevideopodcast]

May I request Wes coming to the realization that he's caught feelings for his coworker/work partner?

A/N: Wow, I am SO sorry that this took so long to post! I'm so in love with what we've seen of Wes, and I was really digging to make sure that I portrayed him as I do in my head. I'd love to write more for him in the future, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy!

Working under Asa Sweet has its benefits. Seemingly endless stores of money, eternal room and board, and most importantly, all the midnight lovers he could ever want. All at the price of a bit of bootlegged liquor, and the occasional firefight. 

This kind of life isn't for everyone, but it's certainly made for Wes. And you're inclined to agree with him. The adrenaline of a job well-done tastes even better than the liquor you're rewarded with at the end of the day -- maybe that's why the two of you get along so well. He can appreciate someone who can actually do their job, and do it well. No offense to Fish, of course, but it's nice to have someone… competent. And nice to look at, to boot. 

What? He's not blind -- He knows a pretty face when he sees one.  

If you weren't tangled in this life like he was, he might have tried to shoot his shot at a quick fling. But alas, working together complicates that And it's not exactly wise to play with someone when they've always got a loaded gun. He's not stupid, either. So, coworkers it is. Friends, if he's drunk enough to say it out loud.

The two of you are a deadly duo in the field. In the car it's all easy banter, a playful back-and-forth of teasing and sarcastic quips… but when you're truly working? Fish says it's scary how easily the two of you operate on the same wavelength, and you can't blame him. As a team you're able to coax deals and information from unsuspecting lips with ease; and on the rare occasion things go wrong… well, there's rarely any time to even worry. You've made it a game to see who can draw their weapon the fastest when shit hits the fan, and you're not very keen on losing.  And boy, does he like a challenge. 

Wes isn't a romantic. He thinks he is -- he thinks he's the suavest cat this side of the Mississippi. But he isn't. In truth, he is painfully inexperienced in the realm of romance, outside of one night stands. So when he's suddenly clenching his jaw whenever you pull that syrupy, borderline seductive voice on clients to get your way, of course he misattributes his feelings to lust. Because what else would it be? 

Except it doesn't get better, and no amount of liquor can soothe the tightness in his throat when he looks at you. 

No amount of bloodshed can quell his rapidly growing thoughts of domesticity. 

And there's not a single force on earth strong enough to pry the softness from his gaze. 

He hates that you're such a weak spot for him. He's always enjoyed being in your company, but now he finds himself hanging onto every word, every syllable, every breath. It's embarrassing.  

It's a bit of an awkward game of hot and cold while he tries to figure out what he wants. The most Wes really knows about romance is what he gleaned from when Fish drug him out to see Romeo and Juliet, and Lord knows how that panned out. You know him well enough to let him sort through… whatever it is he's going through. 

(You do pick up on the fact that there's a bit more intent when he smacks Fish for the "weasel" comments, though. Fish's poorly hidden laughter doesn't escape your ears either.)

But as time goes on, he settles back into his normal routine with you. Maybe his words get a bit more honeyed. Maybe he gets a bit more sarcastic, so he can feel you swat at him. Maybe he starts winning your quick draw games more often, and maybe he's formed a habit of stepping in front of you when things go south. You can't know for sure -- he dodges every attempt at questioning. 

If he shows up at your doorstep someday, with roses from your front yard… just know that he's trying.