#But seriously WHO IS THE HANDLER
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Why am I always thinking the HANDLER is Penguin like for some reasons whenever I read this I always think the HANDLER is Penguin
If we go with HANDLER being Penguin then the guy just isolated a fucking teenager and took advantage of his very unstable state to make him do machines for him and his goons and for the other villains of Gotham witch in my opinion it is a very on point thing for him to do but I don’t know for sure if he would actually sell the machines to other villains I think he would just keep them all I think.
But if we go random Gotham citizen rout then it’s got to be some rich guy who is the one doing this which honestly doesn’t sound too far fetched with how gotham is.
Now for some strange reasons I’m just now thinking HANDLER being from the court of owls also fits their whole shtick and with how they treat the Talons and most of their kids even in some cases (if I remember correctly) given their kids or grandkids to the court so they can become Talons so I see them isolating a teenager and encouraging his unhealthy habits as just a tame version of their fist steps towards manipulating him into becoming dependent of the court but then the selling things to other villains thing doesn’t exactly sound like a thing they would do so if you go this rout you would have to take that part out of the story.
Now I’m thinking Ra’s but he or Talia just wouldn’t make sense like no matter what they just don’t make sense with this story.
I saw in other reblogs the clone thing the Bruce clone one I don’t think a teenage clone of him would do that in my opinion and we have to take into question who made that clone and the one with the Damien clone all his clones are deep rooted to the code Talia wrote for them to obey her every command so that just doesn’t really make sense.
imagine with me Danny ends up in Gotham some how and is a mad scientist that is hired to make cool shit and gets BANK but then the bats crack down on the shit and they see a 13 year old boy with big ass goggles with machinery all around him and looks up for a second before glancing up again as if confirming what he saw and then slowly turns around “Hi…? I swear if these are one of my delusions than I will be complaining to HR- wait am I… HR?”
Danny ends up in Gotham after Nasty Burger happened, but to not become Dark Danny, he buried himself in machine work, using some blueprints from his parents' lab as a baseline and then eventually creating his own.
Some guy in Gotham found him one day and decided that he had a talent for making stuff like this, and that he'll pay Danny handsomely if he made some things for him, and, well. Danny was pretty low on money from his parents' bank account after blowing most of it on machine parts.
So he accepted.
Then the guy started requesting some other things for some other people and he eventually became his middleman for the big hitters in Gotham who wanted his stuff. Well, not that he knew his stuff was being given out to the big hitters that also include villains, since he spent most of his time just building, then eating, then passing right the fuck out, and repeat.
Then the bats crack down on him, and Danny's been making some shit for more than 24 hours already with no rest time and just a little snack here and there, and then he questions if he accidently inhaled something he wasn't supposed to because the bats are literally in his workshop/house.
So he thinks he maybe high as shit right now and then just treats them like they weren't there and goes back to making his thing because that one guy said a person with a fuck ton of money wanted it. Then Batman pulls him away from the machine and he's like: "Huh."
Still thinking this is a massive hallucination because he's high as a kite, he tries to get Batman to let go, but his grip is pretty strong, then he pokes him and then goes: "Oh, maybe this isn't a hallucination."
"Oh sugar honey iced tea."
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dc x dp prompt#danny phantom#I just see this making sense once we find out who the handler is#Then the story can go from their to a happy comfort story where they work on danny’s good old trauma#But seriously WHO IS THE HANDLER#Also the caos going around on the comms while they try to figure out who the kid is#I also see Tim questioning if he would turn out like this if not for his family#And him just going “Yeah I get how ya’ll feel about my sleep and eating habits now”#We also need to figure out where his lab is#The Port is too easy they would’ve found him earlier the go there like 50 time a months just to stop someone from realizing a gas#Or killing hostages#Crime Alley isn’t an option Jason would’ve found him the moment he heard something fishy is going on in one of the wearhouses#The rich people territory would basically signal that someone is doing something highly illegal their#So I guess we’re stuck with the outskirts of Gotham or the Middle Class territory#how fun
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ve been going down a nostalgia rabbit hole with the fics I’ve been reading and I’m looking for a specific Clint Barton-centric one I could swear I bookmarked but seriously can’t find again. Would someone be able to help me?
#clint barton#I think it’s Gen if not it’s probably Phil/Clint but background#that’s not the focus#Clint goes on a SHIELD mission and then is picked up and immediately taken to an Avengers mission#one of these is in the desert#I feel like I remember him being on the plane from the shield mission eating a protein bar cause he’s seriously exhausted and dehydrated but#like no one is actually aware of it cause his handler’s not really nice??? like it’s not coulson it’s some dude who doesn’t like Clint#but anyway they take him to the avengers mission and they snark at him for being late and he’s up ina. tree#and then when it’s done he collapses and they figure out he’s actually like exhausted and shit#idk man this is a bad summary but it is in my head and I can’t find it#I swear it was real#it’s from like 2012-2015 if I had to guess#back when we were still all convinced the avengers would be a real team for more than a single movie#sigh those were the days#Hawkeye#marvel fic
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
The handler is very cool and epic actually
Capcom just refuses to hire writers for some reason and also has like 1 intern who isn't a misogynistic dick wad who wasn't in the day they wrote her dialogue
#the handler should have been a super autism coded charcater who cant be scared by anything#like shes just so fascinated by the beauty of the new world#that she doesnt notice the giant monster sneaking up on her#and is still like unharmed by some cosmic luck of the universe#like inspector gadget or domino#shes a looney tunes baby walking theough a construction site#anyone who tries to help her ends up on the receiving end of everything bad that could have happened while shes unscathed#the mh team just has this weird idea that any woman in the series HAD to either be sexualised to shit or super incompetent#no in between#no nuance#monster hunter seriously needs to address its misogyny problem and players need to stop brushing it under the rug#monster hunter#monster hunter lore
14 notes
·
View notes
Photo
March 15th is what I call "the day Showdown Bandit was first announced".Trailer anniversary in other words. Good times bro. I remember that day like it was 4 years ago (oh my god). I thought for this occasion that only I think is special,I should post something about SB today. Because at some point or another I would have to. Unfortunately I don't have anything recent to post,so here's something I did a long time ago.
My designs for Carl Handler and Buddy Bublik (because apparently the text on the drawing doesn't give enough of a hint (look,this was done over a year ago, give me a break). Kind of crazy to think that,apart from their names,we never saw anything from them in Episode 1. The (in-universe) creators of Bandit,and not once did we get any info from these guys. Imagine BATIM but Joey is never mentioned once.
What was their relationship? Why and how did they bring the puppets to life? What happened to them after the show ended? Which one is the puppeteer,and if one is the puppeteer, what happened to the other one? So many questions,and we will probably never have answers.
Not that it will stop me from making designs and headcanons for them,but,still..
As I said,this drawing was already done a long time ago,so there are some details here and there that could have been improved (like the proportions) (and also there are maybe 1 or 2 details in these designs that I might change the next time I draw them again) but I still think it's a good drawing that still holds up. Not bad for something made more than a year ago.
Despite the fact that my pfp is the cowboy himself,I've only really talked about this game once. Maybe it's hard to be interested in talking about something that,well,is kind of dead these days. And let it remain clear,I'm still pretty sad about what happened to this project. Very sad.
For a while now I've kind of wanted to continue this "AU" I had at the time just... I don't know,for fun? I just think it would be interesting to do a story with these characters who didn't get time to shine thanks for certain people.
I wouldn't say this would be a case of "I stole these characters and the story is mine now" or "what would I do if I directed Showdown Bandit" (that second one is worse than the first one,ngl). But more a case of "I'm still sad and I still want to draw/write stuff with these characters from a game that was wronged". Basically I'm still going to treat this as an AU/fanfic based on a game that went nowhere.
But again,dead game,inspiration to do something related to it is low at the moment. So nothing related to this "AU" is coming out anytime soon.
But when the inspiration strikes? Then yeah, I think I can try to do something. It's only a matter of time.
#showdown bandit#carl handler#buddy bublik#crookedsmileart#only 4 main tags;damn#and this time I didn't even forget my art tag; that's great#yk;i talked about inspiration and lack thereof#but while i was making this desc;i'm listening to showdown bandit fan music#and rewatching old trailers#what are the odds;;;#for me to start having ideas again#there are few#but don't quote me on that#seriously don't do that#Also while we're here; shoutout to Lauren Synger#A long time ago I saw her saying that she would also like to return to Showdown Bandit one day; she's a real one for that.#Good to know that someone within the team still acknowledges the existence of this game#and don't try to pretend it never existed lol#Also she's a really nice person she's cool#Also shoutout to those who made SB fansongs#If one good thing came out of this game it was definitely the fan music.#They are good;man#AlsoALSOshoutout to the other 2 people who post sometimes on the SB tag#Making this community of less than 10 people still alive I see#You guys are also the real ones for that
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
How to Handle Your Diva || Vil Schoenheit
You’re the unofficial Vil Schoenheit handler, a role you assumed when you started dating him. Whether it’s calming his temper or redirecting his wrath, you’ve become the only one capable of keeping poor midguided souls from biting the dust.
aka the 7 times you save someone from getting poisoned or worse.
Instance 1: Chaos Duo
The serene backdrop of NRC’s gardens frames Vil Schoenheit like a painting come to life. Dressed in flowing silks and adorned with the perfect balance of sunlight and shadow, he’s mid-pose when—
“Yo, Vil! Say cheese!”
Ace and Deuce leap into the frame, pulling the most exaggerated faces imaginable. Deuce’s eyes are practically crossed, and Ace looks like he’s mid-sneeze. The photographer audibly chokes on his spit.
Vil freezes. The air goes cold. The birds stop singing. Somewhere in the distance, a withering rose drops a petal.
“What,” Vil says, so quiet it’s terrifying, “was that?”
“It was Ace’s idea!” Deuce blurts immediately, shoving Ace under the metaphorical bus.
“Thanks a lot, traitor!” Ace snaps back.
Vil’s eyes narrow. “You,” he hisses, voice dripping with venom, “have the audacity to ruin my shoot?”
By the time you arrive, the photographer is hiding behind a bush, and Ace and Deuce are sweating under Vil’s glare. The two freshmen look like they’re seconds away from turning into frogs—or corpses.
“Vil, sweetie,” you interrupt, stepping between them and the storm cloud forming above his head, “what’s going on?”
“These plebeians,” Vil says, gesturing at Ace and Deuce like they’re bacteria under a microscope, “thought it would be funny to sabotage my art!”
“They’re idiots,” you agree, shooting the freshmen a glare. “But let’s think about this. What if... this makes your shoot even better?”
Vil arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Better?”
“Yeah!” you say, channeling all your persuasive powers. “When people see this, they’ll notice how your beauty shines even in the presence of—” you gesture vaguely at Ace and Deuce, “—mediocrity.”
“Mediocrity?” Ace repeats indignantly.
“Shut up,” you snap before turning back to Vil. “Think about it. They’ll see your grace, your poise, and how you completely outshine everyone around you. It’s contrast, Vil. Art loves contrast.”
Vil strokes his chin, considering. “You may have a point...”
“Totally! And, like, who would take them seriously anyway? Look at Deuce’s face. He looks like a confused pigeon.”
“Hey!” Deuce protests, but Ace is already nodding.
“Yeah, yeah! Vil, this just makes you look even cooler! Like, people will see this and be like, ‘Wow, he’s untouchable, even next to these losers.’”
Vil finally exhales, his wrath ebbing. “Very well,” he says, smoothing his silks. “I’ll allow it. But only because the juxtaposition highlights my perfection.”
Ace and Deuce sag in relief, clearly missing the word “juxtaposition.”
Later, Trey finds you in the hallway. “I heard what happened,” he says, looking both exasperated and grateful. “Thank you for stopping Vil from poisoning them. Again.”
You shrug. “All in a day’s work.”
Instance 2: Just Leona.
The group is gathered in the cafeteria, the usual buzz of conversation swirling around. Vil sits at the head of the table, eating his meticulously prepared salad—a work of art with perfect symmetry, vibrant greens, and an edible flower garnish.
Leona slouches in his chair nearby, tearing into a steak with all the grace of a feral lion. He pauses mid-bite, glances at Vil's plate, and snorts loud enough to turn heads.
"What's that, Schoenheit? Rabbit food?"
The air grows thick. Vil’s fork stops mid-air, his gaze snapping to Leona like a hawk spotting prey. "Excuse me?" he says, in that icy tone that sends chills down spines.
Leona smirks, undeterred. "You heard me. All those leaves and petals—looks like something I��d feed to the herbivores back home."
There’s a collective oh no from everyone nearby. Jack visibly stiffens, eyes darting between the two like he’s watching a live-action disaster. You’re pretty sure Grim just whispered, “This is gonna be good,” from somewhere behind you.
"It’s called maintaining one’s figure," Vil snaps, placing his fork down with calculated grace. “You wouldn’t understand, considering your diet seems to consist entirely of undercooked meat and mediocrity.”
Leona leans back, looking as smug as a cat in a sunbeam. “At least I eat like a king. Meanwhile, you’re over there grazing like the royal gardener.”
The tension escalates. Vil’s hand twitches toward his fork, and you’re suddenly very sure he’s planning to plant it somewhere deeply unfortunate on Leona.
Time to intervene.
“Vil,” you cut in smoothly, leaning closer to him, “can I just say, you look amazing today? Honestly, I don’t think anyone else could pull off a salad with such elegance.”
Vil blinks, momentarily startled, before his lips curve into a faintly smug smile. “Well,” he says, primly dabbing at his mouth with a napkin, “I do have a certain flair for refinement. It’s not something just anyone can achieve.”
“No, it’s not,” you say firmly, throwing Leona a warning glance. “And anyone who doesn’t see that is clearly just... jealous.”
Leona snorts again but doesn’t push further, clearly uninterested in escalating now that Vil’s focus is on being praised rather than plotting homicide.
Jack gives you a subtle, grateful nod, visibly relieved that he won’t have to referee another dorm-versus-dorm war.
As Vil returns to his salad with renewed dignity, you sit back with a sigh, silently adding prevented cafeteria murder to your list of daily accomplishments.
Instance 3: Theatre Club Madness
It starts, as all things do, with Floyd and his unique brand of chaos. This time, it’s a priceless antique vase from Pomefiore’s lounge that met its tragic end because Floyd “wanted to see if it could fly.”
Spoiler: it couldn’t.
Vil, who witnessed the entire ordeal, was seconds away from summoning a storm of consequences when Floyd, in a rare flash of survival instinct, promised to repay the debt.
“I’ll help with your little drama thing,” Floyd had said with a grin too wide to trust.
That promise didn’t even make it a full day.
By the time Azul appears in Ramshackle, wringing his hands, you already know something’s gone terribly wrong.
“Vil asked Floyd to star in some action scenes for his theater production,” Azul says, clearly on edge. “But Floyd... Well, he’s Floyd.”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Let me guess. He skipped?”
“Skipped, vanished, and laughed about it,” Azul confirms. “Vil is furious. I fear he might—”
“Poison the Lounge’s water?” you finish for him.
Azul nods gravely.
Which is how you find yourself in Pomefiore’s theater, holding a script titled The Tragic Tale of Honor and Glory and wearing an outfit that feels heavier than your life choices.
Vil sits in the audience, arms crossed, as you nervously adjust the overly ornate shoulder pads. “Darling, I adore you,” he says smoothly, “but if you ruin my vision, we will have words.”
“Right,” you mutter. “No pressure or anything.”
Rook, of course, is thrilled. “What a magnifique turn of events! A real-life romance brought to life on stage!” he says, twirling a prop sword before handing it to you.
You glance at the script and immediately regret every decision that’s led you here. Floyd’s role isn’t just action-heavy—it’s absurd. You’re supposed to fend off imaginary enemies, deliver heartfelt speeches, and somehow “leap gracefully” across a prop chasm.
“Are we sure this isn’t a punishment?” you whisper to Rook.
“Every great artist suffers for their craft!” he replies, as unhinged as ever.
Rehearsals are... an experience. Vil critiques your sword stance, your dramatic pauses, and even the way you hold the fake shield. “You’re not a barbarian,” he snaps at one point. “This is a knightly role. Show some dignity!”
The only thing keeping you sane is the occasional glimpse of Vil’s smile when you nail a scene. He’s still your Vil—meticulous, demanding, and, beneath it all, proud of you.
By the end of the day, you’re exhausted, but no one’s been poisoned, and Vil is satisfied.
“Darling,” he says as you collapse into a chair, “you might just be a natural.”
You groan in response, but secretly, you’re glad. If starring in a play keeps the peace and earns you a proud smile from your perfectionist boyfriend, it’s worth every ridiculous leap and over-the-top speech.
You're not letting Floyd off the hook though, he now owes you a blood debt.
Instance 4: Runway Disaster
It happens in slow motion. Kalim, with his usual sunshine energy, bounds over to greet Vil during a fitting for his latest custom runway outfit. In one hand, he holds a crystal goblet of bright red juice.
“Kalim, no—” Jamil tries to intervene, but he’s too late.
One excited gesture later, the goblet tilts. The juice spills. And Vil’s pristine white couture ensemble is suddenly dyed a tragic, splotchy crimson.
For a moment, the room is deathly silent. Kalim freezes, his smile faltering as Vil’s expression shifts from shock to something that resembles a villainous Disney queen summoning her final form.
“Oh no,” Jamil mutters, stepping back like a man who knows better than to get involved in an impending disaster.
Vil’s fingers twitch, and actual poison gas starts to swirl faintly around him.
“You…” he begins, voice deadly calm, eyes narrowed at Kalim, who looks like he’s considering whether running or apologizing is the better survival tactic.
Before Vil can unleash his fury (or toxins), you jump in, grabbing his arm like a brave but foolish hero.
“Wait! Think of the headlines,” you blurt. “The great Vil Schoenheit doesn’t panic when disaster strikes. He innovates. He adapts. He turns accidents into opportunities!”
Vil pauses, glancing at you with an arched brow. “Go on.”
“This isn’t a catastrophe—it’s a creative challenge,” you say, channeling your best salesperson energy. “You can redesign the outfit on the fly, show off your genius in real time, and prove why you’re the best.”
Jamil, who’s still lurking near the door, lets out a faint groan. “Don’t drag me into this—”
“Perfect!” you cut him off, pointing dramatically. “Jamil, help us. You’re good with details. Kalim, you’re... great at handing over fabric?”
“I am?” Kalim perks up, always happy to help, even when he’s the source of the problem.
Vil exhales sharply but lowers his hands, the faint poison clouds dissipating. He turns to you, his lips twitching upward in something resembling reluctant approval. “At least someone here recognizes talent when they see it.”
Half an hour later, Jamil is threading needles with the speed of a man who just wants this ordeal to end, Kalim is cheerfully sorting through fabric swatches, and Vil is in full designer mode, issuing commands and adjusting details.
You’re stuck holding a pin cushion and occasionally offering words of encouragement, but hey, no one’s been poisoned, and Vil’s outfit is somehow looking even better than before.
When it’s finished, Vil studies the revamped ensemble with a critical eye, then turns to you.
“Not bad,” he says, which, coming from Vil, is practically a standing ovation.
Kalim beams. “This was fun! Let’s spill juice more often!”
Jamil groans audibly, and Vil rolls his eyes, muttering something about how his brilliance is wasted on “uncultured chaos.” But when he glances at you, there’s a soft glimmer of gratitude.
Maybe you won’t have to stop a literal poison attack every day, but you’re definitely earning your stripes as the official Vil Schoenheit Disaster Manager™.
Instance 5: Epel, why?
Epel’s first mistake is thinking he can sneak a greasy burger into the Pomefiore lounge. His second mistake is sitting right in front of Vil to eat it.
The moment Vil spots the offensive food item, his entire posture stiffens. Slowly, he sets down the teacup he was holding, a faint air of menace radiating from him.
“Epel,” Vil says, voice dangerously calm, “are you seriously eating... that in my presence?”
Epel freezes mid-bite, the burger hovering inches from his mouth. “Uh, I mean... it’s just a quick snack—”
“It’s processed garbage,” Vil snaps, his tone sharp enough to cut diamonds. “Do you even know what’s in it? Chemicals, preservatives, and enough grease to clog your arteries by the time you’re twenty-five!”
You can almost see the poison aura starting to swirl, and your instincts kick in. There’s only one way to de-escalate this. Compliments. Lots of them.
“You know, Vil,” you interject brightly, sidling closer to him, “I’ve been meaning to tell you how absolutely flawless your skin looks today. Did you do something different? A new serum, maybe?”
Vil blinks, momentarily thrown off. “I did switch to a more concentrated vitamin C serum this morning.”
“Wow,” you gush, “it’s really working. You’re practically glowing! Honestly, you look like you just stepped off the cover of a magazine.”
Vil preens slightly, his focus shifting from Epel to himself. Epel catches your subtle hand signal—Run, you fool, run while you still can!—and starts to edge toward the door, burger clutched tightly in his hands.
Rook, who has been lurking silently nearby as usual, suddenly claps his hands together, eyes sparkling. “Ah, mon cher ami, how touching! Such devotion, such cleverness, to save our dear Epel from the wrath of Monsieur Vil! Truly, a love as radiant as the sun itself!”
Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, then at you, clearly aware of what you’ve just pulled. For a second, you think he might ignore your distraction entirely and summon some ancient Pomefiore curse to turn Epel into a cautionary tale.
But then he sighs and shakes his head. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, though there’s a faint, reluctant smile on his lips.
Later, as Rook waxes poetic about your “unwavering dedication,” Vil leans in close and murmurs, “I hope you know that if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have let this slide.”
“I know,” you say, grinning.
“And you owe me a handmade, organic, non-processed dinner tonight,” he adds, though his tone is more affectionate than demanding.
Fair enough. You’ve just saved Epel from doom and earned yourself a little more of Vil’s soft spot in the process. Not a bad trade-off.
Instance 6: Housewarden meeting
It all starts when Idia mutters the fatal words under his breath at the housewarden meeting.
“Skincare’s just a corporate scam for gullible people, anyway.”
The air goes still. A deathly quiet spreads across the room, save for the faint thump of a pen dropping somewhere in the background. You look up in horror, eyes darting to Vil, who has frozen mid-reading. Slowly, methodically, Vil sets the paper down with the poise of a storm brewing on the horizon.
“Excuse me?” Vil’s voice is icy, his gaze locking onto Idia with the precision of a predator that has just spotted its prey.
Idia, realizing his monumental mistake, turns pale. His flaming hair flickers nervously. “Uh—uh—wait, no, I didn’t mean—uh, you know, for other people, not you! Definitely not you, You’re obviously an exception—uh, outlier—uh—uhhhhh...”
You can see it in Vil’s eyes: hexes. Hexes upon hexes. Idia’s social credit is about to go into the negatives, and it’s up to you to stop this trainwreck before it derails completely.
“Vil, darling,” you say quickly, sliding up beside him and placing a calming hand on his arm, “why waste your brilliance on people who clearly don’t understand skincare? They’re the ones missing out. Why not show them how effective it really is instead?”
Vil’s brow raises, his attention turning to you. “Show them?”
You nod earnestly. “Absolutely. A real-world demonstration. I’ll be your model. You can prove to the entire campus how flawless your methods are by working your magic on me.”
Idia, still rooted to his chair, looks at you with wide, desperate eyes, mouthing, Thank you, oh my god.
Vil considers this for a moment, the dangerous glint in his eyes dimming slightly. “Hm. That does have potential. It’s true that nothing speaks louder than results...” He narrows his gaze at you. “But don’t think this will be easy. You’re going to follow my instructions exactly.”
“Of course,” you say, internally praying you don’t end up with a ten-step skincare routine involving rare herbs and unicorn tears.
Three hours later, you’re sitting in Vil’s dorm room with half your face slathered in a gold-infused sheet mask, while he critiques the lighting for your before-and-after photos. Idia has not only escaped with his life but is actively hiding in Ignihyde, no doubt sobbing into his console for letting this happen.
The next morning, Ortho drops off a neatly wrapped package with a note:
"Thank you for keeping Big Brother from turning into a toad. This is our thank you. Please use it wisely. - Ortho"
Inside is a supply of snacks that Vil would never allow, soda and a very generous gift card.
At least your skin has never looked better
Instance 7: Fashion Show Debate
It happens during the final stages of Vil’s meticulously planned fashion show rehearsal in Pomefiore’s grand hall. The decorators are frantically running around, while Vil oversees every detail with the precision of a hawk. It’s flawless—until Sebek’s voice booms through the air like a thunderclap.
“FASHION IS A POINTLESS PURSUIT WHEN COMPARED TO THE NOBLE ART OF SWORDSMANSHIP!”
Every head swivels toward Sebek, who stands tall, arms crossed, utterly convinced of his own wisdom. He continues, undeterred by the growing silence. “Who cares what you wear when you’re on the battlefield?! True strength lies not in silks and satins, but in the heart of a warrior!”
Vil freezes mid-step, his clipboard trembling in his hand. Slowly, he turns, and you swear you see the faintest shimmer of poison green pooling in his eyes. His glare could cut through steel.
“Excuse me?” Vil says, each syllable sharp and measured.
Sebek, being Sebek, barrels on, entirely oblivious to the danger he’s wading into. “Clothing is irrelevant when facing an opponent of true skill! A warrior’s resolve is their most valuable armor!”
Lilia, lounging nearby, starts wheezing with laughter, clearly finding the whole ordeal the height of entertainment. “Oh, this is delightful. Do go on, Sebek!”
You, however, sense disaster brewing. The tension in Vil’s jaw could snap diamonds, and Sebek’s volume seems to be increasing with every word. If this isn’t diffused soon, you’re going to witness Sebek walking the runway in a cursed tutu and heels.
Thinking quickly, you stride over to Sebek and place a firm hand over his mouth. “Sebek, remember the gargoyle incident?” you say in a low voice.
Sebek freezes, his face going pale. You lean in closer for effect.
“You know,” you continue casually, “the time you spent twenty minutes praising a gargoyle in the castle courtyard because you thought it was Malleus in the dark? Magnificent presence were your exact words, I believe?”
Sebek’s eyes widen in pure panic.
“When you finally realized your mistake,” you add, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “you begged me to swear on my life that I wouldn’t tell Malleus. Do you think he’d laugh? I think he’d laugh.”
Sebek emits a muffled noise beneath your hand, his entire posture deflating. He waves his arms frantically in surrender. You let go, and he turns stiffly to Vil, bowing his head. “My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”
Vil raises a perfectly arched eyebrow but seems satisfied with the reluctant apology. “As you should be. Now, be silent, or I’ll personally ensure you end in heels forever.”
Crisis averted, you glance at Lilia, who gives you an approving wink. Sebek, meanwhile, retreats to the shadows, muttering under his breath about unfair tactics and treacherous secrets.
As the models resume their walk, Vil brushes past you with a quiet, “Good work, darling. Though I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have minded seeing him in heels.”
It’s one of those rare, quiet evenings where the world outside seems to hum in stillness. You’re sprawled on the bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, savoring the precious downtime. The soft creak of the floorboards is your only warning before Vil’s hands are gently pulling you into his arms.
Startled, you set your phone aside and look up at him. “What’s up?”
Vil doesn’t answer immediately. He sits on the edge of the bed, arms encircling you as if shielding you from the entire universe. His expression is unusually soft, his gaze tracing over your features like he’s memorizing every detail.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says at last, his voice quieter than you’re used to. “You do so much for me. More than I deserve sometimes.”
You blink, caught off guard. “What are you talking about? You deserve the world, Vil.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he looks away for a moment. “I know I’m... a little demanding.”
You snort, which earns you a mock glare. “Okay, fine, maybe a little more than a little." You laugh “But it’s not like I mind.”
“You should. Most people would,” he counters, but his tone is softer now, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve been working so hard to keep up with me, to make me happy, even when I’m being a diva.”
That makes you laugh, and the sound seems to melt the last of his hesitation. You cup his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against his flawless skin. “Vil, it’s not hard work. It’s a labor of love.”
His eyes widen just a fraction, and then his smile blooms—gentle, radiant, and so genuinely Vil. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the affection in his voice betrays him.
“And yet you love me anyway,” you quip, grinning.
Vil huffs a laugh, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you into a proper embrace. “Hopelessly.”
You stay like that for a while, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the world outside forgotten. It’s just you and Vil, caught in a moment that feels like love personified—sweet, steady, and infinite.
(this is kinda a spiritual successor to the how to tame your dragon malleus fic)
Masterlist
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twisted wonderland#vil schoenheit x reader#vil x reader#vil schoenheit x you#vil schoenheit#vil
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
WORK GOSSIP ;; Homelander and you don't have a label, but everyone in Vought knows about your relation and they gossip (yes, so do the supes).
12.30.24 Masterlist
Vought Tower never really slept. PR teams worked around the clock, power brokers made backroom deals, and somewhere, members of The Seven working and committing graphic acts. But amid all that noise, there was one undeniable fact—Homelander’s fixation on you.
It wasn’t love, though no one dared call it anything less. It wasn’t quite obsession, though everyone whispered it was. It was something heavier, something that hung in the air like the crackle before lightning struck.
When you first appeared at Vought Tower, no one really knew what to make of you. You weren’t a supe. No flashy powers. Just… you. But that didn’t seem to matter to Homelander.
He started showing up at your side almost immediately. If you walked the halls, he was there, just half a step behind or beside you. His hand ghosted over the small of your back as though he thought the slightest breeze might carry you away.
To the rest of the Seven, this new attachment was unsettling. Homelander had always been unpredictable—prone to violent outbursts, passive-aggressive taunts, and the kind of superiority complex that only America’s most powerful supe could justify.
But with you, he was different.
“Oh yeah,” A-Train once snickered in the break room, “He’s whipped. Like, full-on.”
Maeve shot him a glare over her whiskey glass. “Keep talking like that and he’ll take your legs this time. You know he hears everything.”
The rumor mill churned harder than ever. The janitors swapped stories of seeing Homelander in the early hours, lingering by your office door like a lost dog. PR teams giggled about how he hovered as you prepped for press releases.
It wasn’t subtle. Homelander didn’t do subtle.
Even Starlight noticed—no, especially Starlight.
She thought she was prepared for the Seven. She thought she knew exactly what kind of nightmare Homelander was. But nothing prepared her for the sheer oddity of watching the most terrifying man in the building turn to putty when you walked into the room.
The first time she saw it was during a team meeting.
Homelander had been impatient, his arms crossed, his lip curling as Ashley nervously flipped through slides. “Just get to the point,” he snapped. “We don’t need the—”
Then, the door opened.
You stepped inside with no announcement, quietly making your way to the back of the room with a clipboard in your arms.
And Homelander—Homelander smiled.
Not the fake, polished-for-cameras smile he usually wore, but something softer.
Starlight watched as his eyes tracked you, burning with an intensity that made her shift uncomfortably in her chair.
Ashley visibly exhaled with relief as Homelander’s attention drifted from her.
He ended the meeting early. No one questioned it.
Later, Starlight caught Maeve at the bar in one of Vought’s private lounges.
“Okay,” Annie started, leaning against the counter, “Who is that?”
Maeve didn’t need to ask who she meant. She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, her expression unreadable.
“Homelander's little handler?” Maeve smirked bitterly, her usual confidence exhausted, "He's smitten for them."
“Seriously?” Starlight furrowed her brow. “I thought he didn’t… you know… do relationships.”
Maeve laughed dryly, “He doesn’t. Not like a normal person, anyway.” She set the glass down with a soft clink. “But they’re not a normal person to him. To him, they’re… different.”
“How different are we talking?”
Maeve shot her a sideways glance. “Different enough that I’m alive because of them.”
The weight of those words settled heavily between them.
It was strange, the way Vought adjusted to your presence.
Even the executives walked softer when you were in the building. No one wanted to cross you—not because of you, but because of the shadow that trailed behind.
Homelander had killed for less. Everyone knew it.
But you—oh, you had him wrapped around your finger.
When you walked down the halls, people scurried to clear a path, though you never asked them to. When Homelander wasn’t with you, his absence felt more oppressive than his presence.
The rare moments he couldn’t find you? His mood soured the entire floor.
Ashley once made the mistake of telling him she wasn’t sure where you were. His icy stare lingered on her for a second too long, before he disappeared, leaving a rush of air in his wake.
When he finally found you—probably somewhere mundane like the cafeteria—his demeanor instantly brightened, as if the storm cloud had passed.
ᵉᵃᵗᵐʸʰᵉᵃʳᵗᵒᵘᵗ
#homelander#homelander x reader#the boys#the boys fanfic#the boys amazon#fanfiction#fanfic#gn reader#the boys x reader
176 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm sorry. I'm so not sorry but also so so so sorry. But I can't stop thinking about it.
from @keferon tf mecha universe
(Also if you don't want me tagging you please do tell. I didn't want to bother, just want to credit cuz it's glorious)
it's because of this post.
Happened after This event
I'm sorry in advance for all the grammatical errors.
I also don't know wo else would be the science guy to take this position of explaining the thing. I feel like there has to be someone else that's not Shockwave too. Sorry to all of Brainstorm's fans out there. I think he's not a bad guy. Just too excited for the possibilities.
---------------------------------
Something lingers inside that mech. Although there is no hard evidence of a human soul or spirit or ghost haunting it, most people who had anything to do with Vortex agreed that it was best to believe its first pilot never leave the cockpit of his mech. After all, nothing else would explain the freak accidents constantly killing all but the latest pilot.
Human are prone to be superstitious. It's normal to believe in something like ghost in the machine, really.
But one would not think a man of sciences such as Shockwave would take the rumors seriously. No one knows if the scientist really believe it or not. He
Regardless of the rumors' validity, it sure did inspired him.
"You're kidding me" Swindle stood, blinked, looked at the incomplete repair of Blurr's mech then back to the technician in front of him. Brainstorm was prattling on at speed faster than Blurr's F1 record.
"Not kidding. Why would I kid? This is a great breakthrough. Lives can be saved and there are much we could do with the tech, I don't know why it never occurs to me or Shockwave that the neural link tech could have been used in this way---"
Swindle turned his brain off during all the scientific mumbo jumbo all and only really heard him again at "It's nothing all that weird really. Some people disagree, but you can't go against Shockwave when he put his mind to it. If you think about it, it's just like Vortex"
"What?" Swindle blinked again.
"Vortex. That mech, I mean the mech's first pilot, crazy psycho, crazy good at slicing up kaijus"
"I know who Vortex was. I worked here when he started piloting. What did that asshole has to do with this?"
"Oh, everything. If, a big if. If that guy's consciousness was still in the mech like people been saying"
"Haunted" Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes at Brainstorm. The technician corrected him.
"Lingering consciousness. Either way, Blurr is in much better shape than Vortex. Brain still intact . So is most part of his body. We wired him to the neural link to allow him control of the mech. So when we are ready, he can still go about his task from within that mech"
"What . The . Fuck"
Swindle's eyebrow twitched. No, it's NOTHING like Vortex's case. The asshole died and probably refused to leave this world. Blurr, on the other hand, was still alive. Sure he wouldn't be the same. Maybe he would be scarred for life, paralyzed from the waist down or something. But hardwiring a person to a mech?
"So, you were working with Blurr before now, correct? That's why we would like to bring you in as his handler. Not like you have to do maintenances and stuff, just take care of him and, the publicity and all that. Like being his manager" With that, Brainstorm handed him a folder before excusing himself.
The guy wasn't bad most of the time, Swindle thought. But sometimes, just sometimes, his passion for science overshadowed the moral compass.
Like how he wished that his own greed would take precedented in his state of mind. They must have thought he would jump at the chance to milk more profit from Blurr. Hell, he wouldn't be feeling this bad if that was the case.
He wanted to refuse. Profit be damn, even he didn't feel right. Blurr saved them. He should be allowed to preserved his humanity, his dignity. Not preserving his brain in a jar inside a mech. If the pilot died and the mech is reparable, you find a new pilot. If the pilot lived but can no longer pilot, you also find a new pilot. Not..this.
But refusing means they will bring someone else on board to manage Blurr. He's pretty sure he wouldn't like that.
Fuck
------------------
**note. Blurr is not reduced to brain in a jar. Most of his body is intact, just hard wired to the mech.
I tink they can add robot parts to him later all stuff. But since they probably value Blurr as a money cow pilot first. If they can't use his face, they can still use his mech.
Sorry again ehehehehehehehehehe
#tf mecha universe#tf blurr#tf swindle#should I put some kind of tw?#does it count as body horror?#I'm not sure#by the way this can be blamed on gundum I watched#being iron blooded orphans and thunder bolt#they're brutal af#I'm sorry again#tw body horror
298 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Blood of the Covenant
prompt: ( requested ) being raised alongside the Twins, you naturally fell on path to become a contract killer - much to Tangerine's chagrin. when you're recruited onto the Bullet Train, too, emotions cum into play - get it?
pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 9.4k+
note: this isn't very good, i'm very sorry.
warnings: codename Olive 'cause it's cute, cursing, Lord's name in vain, mild spoilers, AU timeline (obviously), Tan is still Aaron, Lem is still Brian, emotional confessions, mild depiction of violence, very short and poorly written smut, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, needles / weaponized venom [The Hornet], and dead bodies.
"So, you get on the train, you find the Twins, and you get off - it's easy," Constance, your handler, scolded through the phone. "Seriously, why are you so nervous? It's like the most lowkey job you've ever been assigned."
"Yeah, you're just forgetting the part where I have to locate some generic looking briefcase on this God forsaken train, make sure they have the White Death's son, then get them all off - "
"Okay, see, now you're making it all complicated," Constance laughed again. "C'mon, Olive, tell me the truth."
"What truth?"
"You're nervous," she sang in your ear.
"No shit, I'm nervous!" You snapped, connecting the bluetooth device and shoving your phone in your pocket as the train jetted into the station. "Do you have a good reason I shouldn't be?"
"Um, how about the fact that you guys grew up in the orphanage together, making you practically family, and that they're gonna be overjoyed to see you?"
"Yeah, right!" You laughed, "You don't know the guys, and it's been, like, 4 years since I've seen them. They're scary overprotective and if they know what I'm doing professionally, they'll probably handcuff me to one of them and deliver me to some nunnery."
"Are those even a thing anymore?"
"Fuck if I know," you snorted.
"You're overthinking, Olive, just breathe," she advised. "Look, the intel is good. The White Death is up to something and if you wanna see the Twins alive, you need to get them off the train."
"Cool, so fuck the case and the son?"
"Nope, you wanna get paid, you gotta grab them, too."
You sighed, the train doors opening. "Well, here goes fucking nothing..."
"I've literally never heard you this nervous, it's kinda cute."
"Constance, is there a reason we're still on the phone?" You asked, nodding at the people you passed and excusing yourself as you searched the train cars slowly.
"I wanna hear how this goes!"
"Call you when I have the payloads, 'mmkay?"
"No," she whined, "c'mon, lemme hear the reunion!"
"Goodbye, Constance, as always, you're a giant pain in my ass."
"Oh, like you're a basket of roses. Fine, go, deprive me of this. Fucking killjoy!"
"Talk soon - and if not, I'm probably shot."
"Well, just... Don't get shot?"
"Spot-on advice, love."
"You'd be lost without me."
"Bye, you idiot."
"Seriously, don't get shot!"
Disconnecting the call, you chuckled to yourself and dodged around a family. However, right behind them was a man in a bucket hat and thick black framed glasses carrying a silver briefcase, who bumped your shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am," he instantly apologized in English.
"No worries," you smiled, nodding at him. "Have a nice ride."
"You, too," he nodded back, and you turned to continue on your way, missing the way the man eyed you - and gulped when he caught sight of the gun in your waistband. He scurried on his way.
You entered another train car, pausing to take a long breath as you surveyed the patrons. You moved onto the next section, the train rocketing into motion. However, as you approached the next set of doors, you gasped and skirted to a halt when two men lingered in the connection.
"Oh - what the bloody fuck are you doing here!?" Aaron snapped instantly.
"Well, hello to you, too, love," you grumbled with a curled lip.
"Hi, doll!"
You grinned at Brian, greeting him with enthusiasm; offering a giant hug, him kissing your cheek noisily. "So good to see you," you told him when you pulled back.
"Tan," Brian snapped, glaring at him as he gestured at you. "C'mon, mate, don't be like this - 's been years!"
"Yeah, Tan," you pouted dramatically.
"You even know what Tan stands for?" Brian snickered.
"Nope."
"Tangerine," then he pointed at himself, "Lemon."
Aaron's blue eyes rolled, sighing deeply before nodding. "Right, right, c'mere, then, you," he opened his arms, and when you stepped into his embrace, you swear, it was like returning home. After a beat, you felt his arms tighten and his nose press into your neck, subtly inhaling; making you give him a tighter squeeze.
"Oh, Jesus, all right, c'mon, I'm standing right here," Lemon groaned, you and Tan parting, but only saddling beside him with his arm around your neck and yours anchored around his waist.
"So," you chirped, shifting your body weight, "you two have the case, I assume? And the Son - "
"Oh, you've gotta be fuckin' joking," Tangerine snapped, glaring at you as you grinned mischievously. "How's it you know about any of that?"
"She's on assignment, felt the gun when I hugged her," Lemon snickered as if it were common knowledge. "How long you've been working, love? Why didn't you ring us? Talk to us 'bout this?"
"I needed to?"
"No, but just for a bit of a catch-up?" Lemon shrugged. "You know, tell us you're doin' some dangerous job instead of teaching? Aren't you supposed to be a teacher now?"
"This pays better."
"Not gonna get paid a single dime, the fuck's wrong with you?" Tan snapped, dropping the arm from your neck to round on you in anger. "You're seriously on a job?"
"Mhm," you hummed with a smile. "And why won't I see a dime, exactly?"
"'Cause you're not doin' this fuckin' job, love, for fuck's sake!"
"Tan, just calm down," Lemon sighed, holding a hand to him as the man with a pornstache paced in a small circle; wiping a hand around his mouth. "Love? What's the job you're on?"
"Mh," you nodded, "well, 's a bit unprofessional to tell you, but fuck it. I'm to collect the case, grab the White Death's son, and get you two off this fucking train."
"Oh - for fuck's - "
"Tan!" Lemon laughed. "Mate, take a breath! She's obviously qualified if she's made it this far, got this assignment."
You grinned, "You ever hear rumors about that shit that went down in Medellín?"
"Don't tell me," Lemon gasped. "That was you?"
"Most of it wasn't intentional, but I'm pretty good at improvising," you teased. "Anyways, I heard about Bolivia, you two are certainly making names for yourselves, aren't yah?"
"Well," Lemon smiled bashfully, waving you off.
"Right, so, we're approaching the next station," you pointed out, clasping your hands in front of you and smiling, "so, where's the Son?"
"Oh, uh, up there," Lem pointed to the next train car.
"Mhm, good, good, good, and the case?" There was an awkward silence as Lemon and Tangerine exchanged long looks. "Hey? Where's the case, Brian - I mean, Lemon?"
"Well, uh... Funny thing, yeah?" He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
"Tan? Sweetheart?" You smiled prettily, reaching for his hand to halt his pacing, "Where's the case?"
"It's..." Tan trailed, seeing Lemon shaking his head vigorously from behind you. He sighed when he met your sweet eyes and admitted, "It got lifted, love."
"Oh, you fuckin' simp," Lemon groaned.
"What? Wanted me t'lie? She's got that sixth sense for that shit, mate!" Tangerine defended.
"No, you're just whipped!"
"She's looking for the same bloody case, she'd know eventually!"
You let go of Tan's hand to answer your ringing phone, holding a finger to them both, "Hey, Constance, now's not a great time."
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"Nothing, just reuniting with the lads," you eased. "I'll call you when we have the case and kid, and are off the train, all right? And if I don't - "
"Yeah, yeah, you're shot. Fine, just..." She sighed. "Listen, you three aren't the only ones on assignment."
"Hmm?" You perked your brows.
"Yeah, so, Maria's got an agent in the field. Also, I just got intel that the Wolf's there, no idea why. The Hornet, too."
"You're fuckin' joking, right?"
"Nope. They popped up on our travel itineraries. They used pseudonyms naturally, but we have their records."
"Fuck me, all right... All right, yeah, we'll handle it."
"No, don't handle anything! Remember Rome!?"
"Rome wasn't my fault!" You snapped, taking a deep breath. "But it did piss the Hornet off, we'll be careful."
"Get off the fucking train, Olive!"
"When the packages are secured, love, yeah, all right, gotta go, bye-bye now!"
"Olive - "
You hung up and put your phone in your back pocket, sighing at the Twins. "Well, this just got more interesting. We aren't the only ones on this job," you frowned.
"What?" Lem's face dropped.
"Wait, what happened in Rome?" Tangerine asked, offering you his signature look of annoyance: a frown and pinched brows.
"Oh, nothing that was my doing," you waved off. "So, to recap, the case is missing, but the Son is secured?"
"Zip tied to his seat," Lemon nodded.
"Mhm, and where was the case?"
"I had it stashed, but..." He eyed the luggage tossed around the compartment.
"Now, it's gone. Okay, okay," you nodded, "so, just for future reference, don't stash the goods, all right? Terribly unprofessional, darling."
"Yeah," he nodded sadly.
"Oh, so when she says it - "
"She doesn't get all smart with me!" Lemon cut Tangerine off with a warning finger as he paced in the compartment. "The fuck do we do? We just passed the station - the fucker could've gotten off - I mean!"
"Easy," you spoke softly, but the panic was set between the two. You sighed when Lemon turned frantic, leaning back on the wall as Tangerine stood beside you.
"No, no, look, we got his son," Lemon reminded. "That was our job."
Tangerine shared a look with you, making you chide, "Stay calm. You get nowhere bein' so up-tight." His expression melted into something close to reprimanding, but he sighed and faced Lemon.
"Our job was to come back with his son and his $10 million. Three words to describe our situation right now, do you know what they are?"
Lemon glared, "Sure do." Then held up three fingers, dropping one for each word, "Saved - his - son. Hmm? Family's more important than money, right?"
"Do you honestly not know who the White Death is?"
"Yeah, I know who the White Death is. You just told me five minutes ago," Lemon snipped, making you sigh as he rambled an explanation.
"Why do I even bothering forwarding you the briefings?" Tan interrupted, exasperated by the entire ordeal.
There was a pause and Lemon replied softly, almost sheepishly, "I do not know. You get briefings, love?"
"Mhm, but my handler likes giving me the CliffNotes," you eased with a small shrug.
When Tangerine turned from you two to face the train's door, staring out the window, you and Lemon shared a look - his hand raising as if to wave off Tan's theatrics. In return, you just held a placating hand to him, letting Tangerine start his story about the White Death. When he got through his tale, he took a long breath, sighing deeply, musing as he turned back to you both, "So, let me put this bluntly. There's this soulless, psychotic leader with the largest criminal organization on the planet," then his hands dramatically gestured, "shoved right inside our fucking arse cheeks."
Lemon stared at his partner and then, too, mused, "That motherfucker's definitely a Diesel, then, isn't he?"
"You mention Thomas the Tank Engine one more time, I'm gonna shoot you in the fucking face," Tangerine snapped.
"No, no, he won't, Brian," you stepped in, standing between the two, glancing between them.
"'S Lemon when on the job, love."
"All right, sure, my apologies, Lemon," you agreed, "but he's not gonna shoot you." Lemon hummed and pointed at you in triumph, mocking Tangerine, making you scold, "No, don't do that, either. Your attitude gets us nowhere, right, lads?"
Lemon nodded at you before looking to Tan, asking, "Okay, okay, if-if-if-if he's such a badarse, how come he hired three random operators instead of getting his son back himself?"
"I wasn't hired by the White Death," you smiled, reaching a hand to Tangerine's to hold tightly when you saw his fuse about to blow. "And, you see, he had a wife, Lem."
"What? He had a wife?"
"Yeah," you nodded, ignoring Tan's impending meltdown, "and she was the most important thing in his life, and she died in a car crash. Some reports say it was an accident, some drunk driver... And others say it was an assignation attempt." You missed the look Tangerine sent you, looking you up and down, relating to the 'most important thing' comment. "But since then, he's not left the compound," you finished.
"An unnamed locomotive might say there's a lesson to be learned," Lemon quipped, irritating Tangerine.
"And you know what? He didn't hire three - or two," Tan amended, nodding at you, "random operators, Lemon. No, he asked for the best. He asked for the two responsible for the Bolivia job. He asked for pros, who wouldn't fuck up... Three words, Lemon, and now, you, too, sweetheart," he sneered at you. "We - are - "
"Fucked," Lemon finished.
"Oi, listen here, you two Debbie Downers, Christ, all right? Every situation can be remedied," you assured. "Yeah, this is - this isn't ideal, but between us three, we can figure something out. Yeah? Talkin' about you two bein' the best," you squeezed Tan's hand, "surely we can figure something out. C'mon, when do we give up?"
Lemon cocked his head, asking, "All right. Yeah, sure, but what's your codename? Can't go 'round callin' you your government. Would blow our covers."
"Olive," you smiled brightly, Tangerine scoffing. "Fuck off," you snapped instantly.
"Right, well, Olive's right," Lemon deflected, not giving Tan time to retort. He reached out to adjust Tan's suit lapel and tie, "We rescued his fucking son. Huh? We find the fucker who took the briefcase, make things right, be like it never happened," he laid out for you two, and when you tired to release his hand, Tangerine held on tighter - not letting you go.
Tangerine took a deep breath in, letting it out as he pulled out his gun with his free hand, flipping it open, checking the full round of bullets present, and snapping it closed before storing it again. He glanced at you before asking Lemon, "Still got that vest on yah?"
"No, vests give you a false sense of security," Lemon answered. "You might, like, get shot in the neck."
"Yeah, it also stops you from getting shot in the chest, but I guess you missed that episode of Thomas, did'yah?" Tan quipped, not letting Lemon time to answer because he looked at you again. "Bein' said, you are gonna stay put, doll face."
"Excuse the fuck outta me?"
"Heard me," he snapped. "You're sitting this one out."
"I don't remember being hired by you," you dropped his hand to cross your arms. "You don't get a say in what I do - this isn't like back in the group home where you two bossed me 'around, playin' big brother."
"It's exactly like that, 'cause we've been doin' this a helluva lot longer - "
"And I was still hired to do this job, so, I suggest you shut the fuck up and watch yourself."
"I'm tryna keep you safe!"
"We're not children anymore, Aaron!" You snapped. "You don't get to dictate what I do anymore! Christ, all right? I was hired for this job, just like you two, so you can either get with the program and we work together, or just shut the fuck up - 'cause I'm not sitting a Goddamn thing out!"
"Jesus fuck, could cut the sexual tension between you two with a fucking plastic spoon." Lemon scoffed, rolling his eyes; earning two identical glares for either of you. "Fine, whatever, keep denying whatever this is - but look, you two done?" Lemon sighed, and when you nodded, he nodded back. "Right - nut up or shut up, bruv."
You went to follow Lemon out, but Tan snagged your arm before you got a step too far. He kept you at his side, laying your arm in the crook of his, and in-sync, he and Lemon fluffed their outerwear as you three stalked up the train aisle. You licked the pad of your thumb and wiped a bit of grime from the corner of Tan's mouth, his smirk directed at you as you approached the Son secured in his seat.
"Well, so, slight change of plans," Tan announced when you reached the seating. Lemon reached out to alert the seemingly sleeping Son, but the movement of his shoulder caused the lad's head to lull towards you three - making each of you recoil instantly.
"Oh!" You three groaned in union, seeing the rivers of blood streaming down the Son's eyes. He was dead as a doornail, some would say.
You stood watch as Tan and Lem leaned in closer to observe the dead body, Lemon commenting, "First his wife, now his son? That's a lot of white deaths."
Tangerine took a deep breath in, you reaching out to squeeze his elbow. "Sit down," you hissed quietly, "before you draw attention to us standing around a fucking corpse!"
"You're on watch!" Tan shot back.
"Can't do shit if you two are just staring at him! Fuck's sake, sit! You're so suspicious, aren'y you meant to be an agent?"
You pushed Lemon into the seat next to the Son and then Tan into the seating beside the window so you could claim the outside seat beside him. "We gotta disguise the body," Tan whispered, whipping out his handkerchief. You watched him dab the material to his tongue, reaching across to start cleaning the blood while Lemon looked around for anything to help.
"Hang on, hang on," he rushed, Tan pausing when a souvenir cart was approaching and pushing the lad's head towards the window. "Could we get a pair of them glasses, please?" He asked the kind attendant. "They look real fun."
The pretty lady nodded and handed over the oversized toy glasses, Lemon forking over a simple note and insisting the change be kept. You thanked the attendant in her native language as she passed, and after doing a look up and down again, nodded, "All right, go."
"Any fuckin' idea what happened?" Lemon muttered.
"No," Tan snapped.
"Looks like The Hornet's work," you whispered. "Yeah, see, her specialty are poisons and venom, most notably, that of the Boomslang snake." You smirked, "Anyone see the news recently? A Boomslang went missing earlier..."
Tan pulled the lad's head back and continued cleaning the blood off, needing to raise outta his seat to finish the job. Lemon offered, "Here, mate, try these. They're them Momonga glasses."
"The fuck is a Momonga?" Tan sneered through a small panicked pant, taking the toy and settling them on the Son's face.
"Japanese anime kid's show," you offered softly.
"Comes on after Thomas every Thursday," Lemon rushed, gasping, "oh, shi - " when the Son's head dropped. Tan and Lem fixed him to look as if he was only sleeping by leaning his head on the window.
"Thought you two were masters of disguise?" You teased.
"Shut it, darling, please," Tan snipped with a sigh. "All right, we need to split up - there's a lot of train to cover."
"What're we doing?" You asked, standing when Tan gestured you out of the way.
"Gonna find whoever has the case - probably the same nut job who killed the kid," he seethed. "The Hornet, you said?" He asked, watching you nod. Standing as a trio in the middle of the train aisle, you three agreed to split up and search for the case, but Tan insisted you come with him, "as back-up."
"You seriously need it?" You chuckled.
"No, but I wanna keep an eye on yah," he rolled his eyes.
"Shouldn't someone stay with the body?" You wondered.
"He's not gonna get any deader."
"Is that even a word?" You asked Lemon, giggling when Tangerine rolled his eyes and snatched your hand to follow after him.
You and Tan had scoured the entire train, but had zero luck. The only direction the two of you had was from a young girl with a crisp bob haircut in first class, who told Tan she saw a man with black frame glasses with their desired case. Your mind flashed back to earlier, remembering the blonde man and how he had a briefcase. It must've been their briefcase.
He must've just lifted it when you boarded and accidentally ran into him. You hated how foolish you felt, but there was no way you could've known that was the case you were after. Still, you felt a pang of disappointment in yourself - some sick desire to impress your brothers with your skill, to prove to them you're capable of being in this line of work. That you weren't that little girl in the orphanage anymore, but a woman grown who was capable of making her own decisions and having greater purpose.
"Hey," you paused Tan in another connection that lead to the next train car, "you go ahead and update Lemon, I'm gonna pop into the loo."
"I'll wait," he nodded, his phone ringing. "Sorry, love, just a minute. 'S fucking business."
You only nodded and slipped into the bathroom, doing your business, washing your hands, and when you emerged, you jumped back slightly in shock when the Momonga mascot was standing right there in the doorway. You peaked to your right, and in the next train car, through the window, spied Tangerine on his phone, the car mostly empty to your left.
"You need in here?" You asked the mascot, but it just stared at you. "I mean, d-do you need help outta that God awful costume?" More silence. "Riiiight, well, this is weird as fuck. Soooo... I'm just gonna... Go..." You mumbled, slipping out of the bathroom, but was instantly blocked from Tan's view. "The fuck? Oi, c'mon, mate, my friend technically gave you the plushie back." More silence. "Look, you creepy motherfucker - "
But you gasped when the plush mascot shoved you backwards, forcing you to stumble into the automatic door leading to the empty train car - yelping when it opened and you fell backwards.
"Fuck! Goddamnit, that hurt," You snapped, rolling to your feet as the human-sized plushie waddled towards you; the back of your head throbbing from impact and the automatic doors closing to trap the pair of you. "What the fuck, mate? What'd I do? The fuck you want?"
When the oversized head was removed, your mouth went dry. "Remember me, bitch?" The Hornet seethed.
"Ah, fuckin' Christ."
The Hornet smirked, "You've seen my face, you know what that means? I gotta take you out. You've evaded me too long."
"Rome wasn't my fault!" You barked instantly, watching her begin to maneuver out of her costume.
"You got my partner killed, bitch!"
"It was an accident!"
"Bullshit, bitch!" She raged, shedding her mascot costume to reveal a train attendant's uniform - wondering how long she'd been waiting for this opportunity if she was prepared to this level. "You had a hit list, we were on it - "
"Oh, fuck off, as if you've never been given orders!"
Her neck cracked as she tossed the costume to an empty seat. "Time to get my revenge," she grit, "bitch."
"Learn some new insults, my God, you're so fuckin' boring. Throw in some 'cunts' or even call me a 'arsehole', just lay off the 'bitches'," your eyes rolled, dodging the Hornet's first flying fist and nearly stumbling off your feet. You exchanged blows, dancing around one another, grunting, growling, heaving for breath, trying to incapacitate the other. On a particularly hard push, the Hornet managed to dislodge your gun and send it under a set of seats.
"Not so tough now, are yah, bitch?" She laughed sarcastically.
You wiped a small dribble of blood from your lip, panting to heave your shoulders up and down. "All right, you asked for this. Bring it on - bitch!" You laughed right back, the Hornet lunging forward. However, you missed the way she pulled out a prefilled syringe and tried to stab you with it; luckily evading the injection.
"Know what's in here?" She taunted. "Boomslang venom! Yeah, that's right. Highly potent, hits your system in 30 seconds, making you bleed from every orifice - "
"I know, you stupid fucking wanker! I watch the bloody news! I went to college! I'm educated enough to know!"
The doors opened again, revealing Tangerine. "Fuckin' hell!" He snapped, "You all right, Olive!? Hey?"
"Stay back, Tan, this bitch is mine!"
The Hornet wailed as she launched at you again. You were battered and beaten, the other woman lobbing you into furniture, tables, and train walls - causing small cuts to form on your unblemished skin. Yet still, you barked at Tangerine to stay back, that you had this.
You and the Hornet ended up on the floor, trying to one up each other. However, luck was not on your side because the Hornet had you pinned and she simply dropped the syringe into the flesh of your hand. You didn't need to think too deeply, you just rolled over, snatched up the syringe, and stabbed her, too - exposing her to the venom by pushing the syringe's plunger. You both stared at one another with wide eyes, panting.
"30 seconds before the venom does its thing," you taunted, knowing that any good assassin kept the antidote on their person - just in case. Her eyes narrowed and tongue swept over her front teeth, weighing her options; eyes locked in a stalemate, daring the other to make the first move. Do nothing, you both die... Reveal the antidote, only one will die.
She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a new syringe, you lunging for it with impressive lithe to stab into your neck and push the plunger. She seethed, "You bitch."
You stumbled back a step, colliding with Tan's chest as neither of you could look away as the Hornet's eyes went red with blood filling every cavern and crevice. "Oh, shit, that doesn't look good," you winced in fake sympathy. "You've got another syringe, right? A back-up?"
She warbled and wheezed, "What do you think, bitch?"
"What's with the whole bitch thing?" Tan asked in your ear. "She know any other words?"
You only shrugged as blood poured from the Hornet's eyes, filling her lungs to drown her from the inside. "No second antidote? Ah, that's just poor planning on your end, love," you taunted when the Hornet dropped to the ground, choking, blood leaking from her mouth. "I mean, you only carry one antidote? I thought you were supposed to be a professional? With your choice of weapon being venom, I mean," you laughed a little, "seems pretty stupid."
The Hornet continued to choke, trying to crawl up the aisle, but only getting a few feet before the effects of the venom took hold fully. She flopped onto her back, the blood congealing in a thick and tacky substance; staining the stolen uniform and floors of the train.
"What the fuck was that?" Tan snapped, turning you to face him. "Are you hurt!?" He worried, checking you over for visible sign of injury; finding two puncture wounds - one in your neck and one in your hand. You were decorated in soon-to-form bruises, but no bones were broken and you seemed relatively okay besides the small cuts.
"Tan," you soothed, placing your hand over his on your cheek. "I'm all right, I'm fine. She just caught me a little off guard."
"What the hell was that, huh? You got some kinda death wish, is it?"
"It's all part of the job!"
"Like hell, it is! This is why I didn't want you involved - "
"'Cause I could get hurt? Fuck's sake - "
"Yes, all right!" He exploded. "Yes, because you could get hurt! I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you, and look at yah now! I was on the fuckin' phone and you were fighting this... Wait, who the fuck is that?" Tan pointed at the dead body.
"Mh. The Hornet," you answered with a shrug. "She's been after me since Rome 'bout two years ago. I might be one of the very few who knows what she actually looks like - so, no wonder she wanted me dead. Plus... I might've allegedly, possibly, kinda-sorta got her partner killed. Turns out, he was also her lover and she's been after me since."
His head shook, "So now you have international enemies?"
"I mean, I guess it means I'm good at what I do - else they wouldn't bother to come after me."
"You shouldn't say that with pride! That's not how this works!"
"Tell me how you think it should work, then!"
Tangerine glared, "You shouldn't be involved. You worked too hard to become a teacher, to have a real career, and you threw it all away, for what? For this life?"
"What do you care, Aaron!? Honestly!? 'S been years, you just disappeared from my life! I don't think you have the right to boss me around anymore! We're not fuckin' kids anymore!"
He huffed a sharp exhale, "You seriously don't know? Really that fuckin' oblivious?"
"I can't read minds! Why don't you use your words like a big boy?"
Aaron, one of your longest standing friends and practically your family without blood, just nodded sadly. "I thought it would've been obvious by now," he sighed.
"What're you - "
"I love you," Tan interrupted. "Yeah? I fucking love you."
"Yeah, I know, and I love you, too, Aaron, but that doesn't - "
"No," he interrupted in a snap, face falling, "no, I meant that I'm in love with you. Jesus Christ," his hand wiped down his face, "been in love with you for years now. Maybe it started when you punched Tommy Jenkins in the nose when we were 16, maybe it started when we aged outta the orphanage and got our first apartment together. I don't know when I fell in love with you, but I know I am."
You paused, "A-Are you serious?"
"Deadly. But luckily you've already had a dose of antidote, eh?"
The chuckle you emitted was involuntary. But then, your irritation bubbled, asking, "Why hold it in all this time? And if you were in love with me, why not call? Why abandon me in the first place? I went four years - four, Tan! - without you and Lem, the two people I treasured the most, felt safe with, found a family in. Not a single one of my letters were returned; you deprived me of any phone call, not even a single text! You just disappeared from my life."
He bowed his head, "I had to leave, sweetheart. I couldn't keep yah around."
"Why? Tell me why right now, or we'll go another four years - "
"This job is dangerous, love, bit too dangerous in honesty. You know that, but to have emotional attachments only leads to error and a lot of hurt. I was trying to play it safe, thinking I was protecting you, because if any of our enemies knew how precious you are to me, they'd use you against me - they'd hurt you and I couldn't risk that."
"You can't protect me from everything," you whispered. "Aaron, you and Brian are my family, you always have been. Your whole life, you've protected me from the brutality of life, but you can't protect me from reality any longer. I'm sorry if me working upsets you, but I know what I'm doing, Aaron. I'm not fragile, I won't shatter."
"I know," he sighed, shaking his head. "I know it's irrational, love, but I can't go another day without you. I know it's been four years too long, I thought of you everyday, and never have I had such regret. Walking away from you, doll, it hurt worse than getting shot."
You sighed and avoided his eyes, admitting, "I like to think that in some twisted way, I entered this life in the hope that I'd run into you. Felt like the only way we could see each other since this line of work is so bloody unorthodox."
Tangerine sniffled, "I always wanted to come back, find yah again, but I couldn't risk it. I can't risk you. And listen, if you don't feel the same, that's all right, love, I know I just sprang this one you, but I just needed you to know - "
"Aaron, you need to stop shutting yourself down when you feel vulnerable," you sighed patiently, waiting for him to nod his head silently to indicate for you to continue. "Take a breath and listen to me." Another nod and you revealed, "I've been in love with you, too, since we were teens. I didn't want to disrupt what we have, so I stayed quiet. You and Brian - you're the only ones I care about, the only ones I want in my crazy, chaotic, unpredictable life. Too much time as already passed, we've missed so much, I don't want to miss another minute."
He crowded closer to you, both hands lifting to hold your cheeks and stare into your eyes. "Been waiting ages t'hear that," he whispered.
You smiled softly, "I love you, Aaron. Absolutely, maddeningly, unequivocally in love with you."
He chuckled and returned the sentiment, foreheads brought together before his breath fanned across your lips. He paused to give you time to reject him, but you boldly pushed yourself to meet his lips in a long-awaited kiss that set your heart and soul on fire. Mouths moved in sync, cheeky tongues mingled, teeth gently clanked together as you kissed passionately and without restraint. His hands dropped to hold your waist, your own curling around his neck to gently thread your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck; his curls feeling soft, moisturized, and bouncy.
You were rudely interrupted by your phone, Tan pulling back with a small smirk, "Gonna get that? Might be important."
"Promise 's just Constance," you grumbled, fishing for your phone and stepping away from Tan's embrace. "Hey, love," you greeted.
"Ah! Thank God! You're not shot yet!"
"No, not shot, just stabbed, earned a few bruises but I'm good," you snorted, looking under the seats to locate you gun. "What's up, why're you calling again, I told you I'd call you when I'm good."
"We have new intelligence."
"Lay it on me," you sent Tangerine a look; his face stoic, indicating he was listening intently.
"Your next stop is the last stop that the White Death's men aren't stationed at. If you wanna make a clean getaway, you gotta get off at the next stop. It's your last chance."
You winced, "Uh... About that, so, funny thing..."
"What did you do?"
"You always think the worst of me, I don't always do shit."
"Did you?"
You paused and glanced at the squashed Hornet, shrugging, "Not really, it's just not the cleanest job I've done."
"What happened?"
"You always assume the worst in me."
"You only prove me right."
You chuckled, "Yeah, all right, fair enough. Listen," you sniffled, turning to face Tan, "we don't have the case or the Son..."
"You better fucking find them. After this stop, all others are gonna be too hard to get off at. The White Death has men in position."
"Well... Funny thing, right," you winced, rubbing the back of your neck, "uh, so, it wasn't our fault, but the Son is dead. The Hornet got to him, used Boomslang venom, I got her after so you can register her as deceased."
"Oh, fucking Christ! You fuckin' serious? Please tell me this is just a bad joke."
"Why would I lie?"
You heard Constance take a deep long breath, knowing she was counting to ten in her head to keep her composure. "Okay, Olive, sweetheart," she spoke slowly, "tell me you know where the case is. Please. I need to hear the words."
"Pretty sure Maria's guy lifted it, but no confirmation yet."
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! Go fucking find him, get that case, and if you don't make the next stop, call me - there's always a backup plan."
"Let's just do Plan B, it'd save a helluva lotta time."
"Olive," Constance growled, "get the Twins, get the fucking case, and get off the fucking train before you all get fucking shot."
You nodded, "Yeah, all right, love, we're on it."
After hanging up, Tan mused, "So, how's Constance?"
"Uh, yeah, no, she's stressed," you cleared your throat. "Wait, how do you know her?"
"Our handler's collaborated with her before."
"Mhm... Okay, just listen, Aaron, I told you the White Death didn't hire me."
"Right."
"Meaning I need that case and I need you and Lem to get off this train with me. We're gonna get to a safe house - "
"No, no, love, we've our own agenda."
"The Son is dead, the case is missing, your job is literally fucked," you reminded sharply. "However, I can still make it worthwhile if we find the case and get off this train. C'mon, love," you pleaded, "you have to trust me. Please, just - don't go through with the last of this job, it's not gonna end well for anyone. But my way means we all get a chance at safety and keeping our lives."
His head shook, "We won't make it in time."
"We can try."
"We need to find Glasses first - and fucking Lemon."
You agreed.
"Looks like your luck's turned around, Joburg," Lemon sneered, the four of you coming to an agreement to take the case, leave the Son's body for the White Death to find, and get to your safe house.
"If it was up to me, we would've left him," Tangerine growled. "Seriously, love, why the fuck did we save him, too?"
"It was the right thing to do, we were all being set up," you explained, surveying the train station. "All right, c'mon, this way."
"So," Ladybug was heard, "you guys are, like, siblings?"
"Who? Us and Olive?" Lemon snickered, watching the blonde man nod. "Sure, mate, something like that."
"Seem real close, the way she risked her life for you two..."
"Well, they say the blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. 'Course we're gonna look after one another."
The three men followed you, Tangerine keeping a tight hold of the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle. When you made it outside the station without incident or interruption, there was a sleek Range Rover waiting at the curb - an old acquaintance of yours leaning on the grill.
"Olive!" The other agent greeted with a grin.
"Gouda," you returned with enthusiasm, hugging the man. "So nice to see you, thanks for doing this."
"Constance calls, I answer," he nodded, eyeing the three other agents behind you. "Huh... See you made some friends, did yah?"
"Something like that," you mused.
"How's it goin', Gouda?" Lemon asked, making your brows pinch.
"You know each other?" Your eyes shifted between the group.
"Unfortunately," Tangerine nodded with a sigh. "Mate..."
"Yeah, fuck you, too, Tangerine," Gouda sneered. "You know, Olive, your friend fuckin' shot me."
"Did you deserve it?"
Gouda paused, "Doesn't matter. All right, whatever, let's get goin', I'm supposed to get you to the safe house."
Everyone piled into the car, you in the passenger seat to give Gouda a rundown on the train's events. Why you needed the safe house. Why you got off before Kyoto, like was agreed upon. He agreed it was all a mess, telling you the team was still gathering information on the White Death's plan - something in motion that would've ended all your lives. Upon arriving at the safe house, you thanked Gouda, him telling you Constance would arrive in a few days to ensure you lot were smuggled out of the country - not trusting other methods as the White Death had associates planted everywhere.
The house was stalked fully with fresh food in the kitchen, a wall of racked weapons, money in a safe, and reinforced panic rooms in the event of an attack.
"Nice, very nice," Ladybug complimented, looking around the place. "Better than what we've got..."
"Pick your rooms, we'll be here a couple days. My handler's gonna work on getting us outta here without the White Death knowing. Maria negotiated terms for you, Mr. Bug, so you're staying with us."
Everyone spread out, finding the bedrooms fully equipped with new clothes and other necessities, like toiletries. Everyone was able to get long, hot showers, and eventually, when you exited the bathroom in a robe with a towel used to dry your hair, you found Lemon sitting on the living room couch - listening intently to the news report.
"Might wanna see this, love," Brian frowned, making room on the couch for you to sit.
"What's up?"
He nodded at the screen, you watching as a Japanese news station reported on a runaway bullet train that obliterated a local town. Your eyes widened, mindlessly translating the segment; Tangerine eventually joining you two. "What're you two watchin'?" He asked softly, standing behind the couch with his hands on your shoulders. From the opposite door that housed a few other bedrooms, Ladybug entered; the news catching his attention, too.
There was a tension in the air that couldn't be described.
"The White Death sent a fucking bullet train off the rails. All those innocent people..." You whispered, camera crews capturing the devastation and destruction caused. You realized, "He set us all up, he was gonna kill us all."
"Thank God for Constance. What the hell did we do to him, though?" Lemon wondered. "I mean, have any of us actually done a job for or against the White Death before?"
"No clue," Ladybug answered nervously, "but whatever we did, really pissed him off if that's his retaliation. What was the motive, though? Why put us all on the same mission? Same train?"
"Sounds like a vendetta," you answered, the room going silent as everyone contemplated your words. "C'mon, lads, 's been a day. Should get some shut eye."
"Yeah, yeah," Lemon sighed, "good idea. You'll let us know when Constance makes contact?"
You nodded in agreement, bidding them all a goodnight before heading for your designated room. It wasn't more than ten minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor with an array of medical supplies spread around you in an effort to clean your wounds, when a knock sounded at your door. "Come in," you permitted, tending to a decent sized gash in your hairline.
"You all right?" Tangerine asked softly, leaning in the doorframe of your bathroom. He was dressed down in a pair of joggers and a black wife beater.
"Peachy keen, love."
"You know, this image, right here," he gestured to you, the blood drops on the pristine floor, and all the supplies you required, "is why I didn't want you involved."
You nodded slowly, "Yeah, but it's just the name of the game, you know?"
"Need help?"
"No, I'm about done," you sighed, tightening the gauze around your thigh, "but you can help me up, though."
He smirked and offered his hand, helping hoist you to your feet and sigh as he looked you over. You breezed past him, patting his chest under a blood-stained button up; entering your bedroom and dropping onto the bed to rub your tired feet. You watched Tan follow you, a question on the tip of his tongue that couldn't quite take form.
But Tangerine was a man of action, so he abandoned his words and knelt in front of you; caressing your jaw and cheek to sweep his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You were ready to question his unusually soft demeanor when he leaned in and pressed a sultry kiss to your lips - sucking the breath from your lungs.
You hummed in contentment when he pulled back with a small smirk, whispering, "Been wanting t'do that for ages."
"Took you long enough," you breathed, surging forward to wrap your arms securely around his neck and meet in a messy, passionate kiss that made both your heads spin.
Slowly, you felt Tan rise from his position and moved back on the bed to give him room to crawl over you; kiss never ceasing, only a tangled mess of lips, tongue, and teeth. You moaned with greed when his tongue swept against the seam of your lips, being granted access, letting your mouth mingle and dance together in unbridled passion you weren't even aware Aaron could harness.
"Fuck," you whimpered when he detached from your mouth and started down your neck; licking, scraping his teeth, creating a legion of markings as he went. After years of loving him at a distance, this entire ordeal felt surreal; as if in a dream or alternate universe. His hands squeezed your waist before drifting downward, caressing your hips, hoisting your uninjured leg up his hips before grinding his swelling cock into your pantie-covered cunt.
Your hands daintily fumbled with the material of his shirt, quickly shucking the material from his sculpted torso. You knew he was fit, but seeing him bare like this was something else entirely - mouth salivating, but being unable to truly appreciate him in his glory. You were both littered in bruises and cuts, evidence from fighting the entire night; careful with the injuries, happy with the soft, gentle way you caressed one another.
His hands moved to the tie of your robe, pulling the knot to release; able to slowly push the material aside and look down at your exposed flesh. No bra, no shirt, only a pair of panties under that robe. He licked his lips, meeting your eyes again. "C'mere," he whispered, sitting back, "waited too long, fuckin' hell."
You smirked and sat up, the both of you locking eyes and stripping from your cloth barriers as fast as you could. Reaching for him again, you crashed back into the mound of soft pillows, keeping him close; legs spread to accommodate his slender hips, holding his neck and shoulders to keep him where you wanted.
Tangerine grunted when you reached for his cock, stroking him slowly to full mast. Your lips were sticky, wet tongues wagging against one another to create webs of saliva when he pulled back. Gently knocking your hand away, Tangerine shimmied down your body, lips pressing quick pecks anywhere he could reach; pausing at your nipples and biting harshly.
You yelped with pleasure, back arching, Tangerine smirking at the reaction - mouth covering one breast as his hand pawed at the other to let his fingers pinch and tweak your nipple. His tongue flattened against your sternum, looking up to meet your eyes as he continued down your battered body until his face was nestled between your thighs. "Oh, Jesus fuck!" You moaned when he took his first taste.
He hummed, "Exactly my thoughts. Fuckin' hell, tastes bloody delightful - fuck me." He grunted and dove back in, latching his lips around your clit and using the fingers of his dominant hand to plunge knuckle-deep in your sloppy warmth. "That's a good girl," he praised, using two fingers to pump in and out, in and out, in and out - your body twitching as pleasure mounted to make you unable to lay still. "Mhm, look so fuckin' pretty like this - spread out, all f'me. Can't get tired of this sight," he moaned, lapping at your wetness.
"Aaron," you begged, gripping the curls at the crown of his head, grinding your hips up to his mouth. "Oh, God, yes, yes," you encouraged, breathing turning sharp and shrill. For a moment, you completely forgot where you were and why you were in a safe house; reality melting away when fully enraptured in Tangerine. "There, right there, holy shit," you whimpered when he prodded that one special place of your inner walls.
"Gotcha, love, I gotcha," he mumbled, sucking and flicking his tongue against your pearl as he focused fully on that spongey spot; causing a wave of slick to generate on his tongue. He grunted, bicep flexing as he pumped his digits faster and faster; his other hand laid across your lower belly to hold you in place.
"Shit!" You met a long-awaited crescendo, a little embarrassed by how quick you met your end - having been a few months since you were intimate with anyone.
But my God, none of them compared to Aaron. His body was slick with a light sheen of sweat, his mustache scraping your sensitive bud with his fingers still working against you. You tried to wriggle away, but Tan held you in place, his other hand now holding one of your thighs wide for his benefit. You forgot there were other occupants in the house, moaning and whimpering the longer Aaron lapped at your essence and messily fingered you.
You could've cried from the pleasure, pulling on his curls as a second orgasm washed over you. You, too, were now sweating, stomach knotted and legs beginning to shake slightly; thighs closing around his ears as your muscles contracted.
Tangerine chuckled when he pulled back, taking one more nip at your swollen and sensitive clit; sighing in satisfaction as he looked up at you, evidence of your pleasure smeared around his mouth, chin, and mustache. Cheekily, he wiped around his mouth, sucking his fingers clean while you tried to catch your breath.
"Jesus Christ," you chuckled.
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah," you grinned, tugging on his curls again to indicate you wanted him back up with you. He didn't waste time to crawl over you, and when in place, you reached for his warm cock to place at your entrance.
"Oi, hang on, gotta rubber - "
"I'm on birth control, we're okay," you rushed. "Unless you're dirty?"
"Nah, love, I don't fuck nobody raw," he smirked, "but there's a first time for everything, huh?" Aaron laughed almost cruelly when he pushed his hips forward and notched his cock's head inside you, pausing a single moment to watch your reaction as he sunk deeper to stretch you out.
Maybe you had been depriving yourself all these years, Tan's cock being a size, length, and girth you've not handled before. Nobody compared, your cunt weeping with joy at finally having a challenge worthwhile; his balls swinging before being trapped between your bodies. He made a noise, a mix of a moan and whimper, readjusting his hold on you so he held one thigh and the other was supporting his weight by your head.
Your hand laid on his waist, the other around his neck; eyes locked in a passionate connection when he began moving. Your mouth opened in shock, huffing for air, unable to look away - blue eyes pinning you in place. His mouth descending onto yours, rolling his hips to create friction; cock head prodding your gummy walls as the muscles in his back and shoulders flexed with each movement. You lifted a hand to hold his cheek, tongues swirling around one another, Aaron increasing his pace a fraction.
Your nails dug into his flesh, leaving trails of raised, red scratches in their wake - yet it was as if he didn't even notice. "Know I love you, yeah?" Aaron whispered, veins in his neck protruding; heart hammering.
"Yeah," you nodded, wanting him impossibly closer, "yeah, Aaron, I love you, too, holy shit."
Maybe emotional intimacy turned you on more than you ever realized. He clenched his teeth, both hands pressed onto the mattress to support himself as he started to thrust faster. "Not gonna last, love, not with the way you're squeezin' me," he warned, a few stray curls falling over his forehead, his golden medallion swinging and knocking gently against your chin. "Jesus, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he rambled, "like you were fuckin' made for me - Goddamnit."
"We're idiots for waiting so long," you moaned.
"Won't ever be that stupid again," he laughed gently, looking down between you to watch himself disappear and reappear in and out of you; coated in your slick, veins of his cock now throbbing as he felt the familiar coil begin to tighten.
His thumb pressed to your clit and rubbed, your moans getting louder and longer; own hands groping your breasts and tweaking your nipples to add to the sensations Tangerine provided. "Baby," you whined, "'M close - "
"Get there, love, c'mon," he begged, "can't hold back - wanted this f'so long, fuck!" One hand slapped his away to let you control your clit, Tangerine grinning, "Naughty girl. Shit, that's a sight, innit?"
"Don't stop!"
Aaron growled, pinching his brows in concentration as he snapped his hips, the sounds of his balls slapping against you clapping around the room; mingling with your moans, groans, whimpers, and the thick smell of sex that hung in the air. "Feels so fuckin' good," he mumbled, straining himself to resist. "Tight and warm, Jesus fuck, my love, you're perfect - so fucking perfect - Goddamnit."
"There, there, there," you chanted, rubbing your clit vigorously while Aaron dissolved his restrain to hammer into your core with sloppy movements. "Yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes! Please, Aaron, yes, right there, baby, please - don't stop!"
"Fuckin' cum for me, c'mon, love, let it go," he growled, teeth scraping over your collarbone before latching in a gentle bite on your shoulder. "That's it, there it is," Aaron moaned, feeling the restrictive flutter of your cunt, "good girl, good fuckin' girl, that's it."
Your mind went blank, unable to process anything other than Aaron's cock still hammering into you at a brutal pace; the entire bed creaking and rattling against the wall. You whimpered, lips parting when he didn't stop, encouraging, "Need you t'cum, baby, please. Wanna feel you in me - want your cum, fucking need it. C'mon, Aaron, c'mon, love, finish in me - fucking fill me, please, I need it."
"Yeah? Need it?" He grunted, cheeks flushing.
"So bad, need your cum so bad!"
He grit his teeth, humping all the faster before the warmth of your cavern became too much. "Shit!" Tangerine shouted, taking two more rolling thrusts before fully sheathing himself in you as rope of sticky, thick cum painted your inner walls. "Oh, holy hell," he panted, keeping himself still but his arms trembling to support himself as he pulled back only slightly. "All right?" He checked, glancing to where you two were conjoined. "You good?"
"Perfect," you nodded, petting up and down his sides as if entranced and in disbelief this happened. He felt so soft all of a sudden, a stark contrast to his stoic and aggressive personality. "You all right?"
He grunted and retracted his hips, cock springing free to let him crash on the bed beside you; both your lungs working in tandem to attempt to even out. "Absolutely, so fuckin' good," he told you, both staring at the ceiling for a moment before his head turned to look at you. He grinned slyly, chuckling, "That really happened?"
"Think so."
"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," he mused. "Stay put a second, love," he whispered, standing from the bed to venture into the bathroom. After a moment, he returned with a warm and damp washcloth, helping you clean up the cum leaking from your cunt; wiping away the messiness. He cleaned himself as well, you crawling under the covers of the bed - not bothering to redress.
When Tan joined you again, he snuggled into the sheets and opened his arm to welcome you into his side. It was weird, you usually hated sleeping with anyone, finding it too hot and restrictive, but laying there with Tangerine, you felt incredibly at peace.
"You know Constance isn't gonna be here for a couple days," you mentioned casually.
"Uh-huh."
"Think I just found our past time."
"Oh, darlin'," Tangerine chuckled, "we're not leavin' this bed."
"We'll have to eat."
"Least that Ladybug twat can do is bring us our food, eh?"
But you paused to consider something, laid on his chest and idly tracing the scars on his beefy chest. "Hey, Aaron?" You whispered.
"Hmm? What is it, love?"
"What's gonna happen when we leave here?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, here, in Japan, we're together... But when we go home t'London, back to reality, what's gonna happen?"
"What? You mean, with us?"
"Yeah."
He snickered, "Why would anything change, love? I'm not just in love with you, here, in Japan, but everywhere - wholeheartedly. So, when we go back, we make this work. No matter what it takes."
"Really?"
Aaron grinned, "'Course, love. Went four long years without even seein' yah, I have no plans t'let you go again - not so soon, not ever." He stretched and tucked his free arm behind his head, "You're stuck with me, doll. That all right with you?"
You grinned up at him, "Perfect by me."
His lips found yours again, starting a very noisy night that made both Lemon and Ladybug clamp pillows over their ears.
requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
#tangerine#tangerine bullet train#bullet train tangerine#tangerine x reader#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine imagine#tangerine smut#tangerine x you#tangerine fanfiction#tangerine fluff#bullet train#bullet train movie#bullet train 2022#bullet train x reader#aaron taylor johnson#atj#atj character#atj x fem!reader#atj tangerine#tangerine atj#atj x reader#aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader#aaron taylor johnson character#aaron taylor johnson x reader#aaron taylor johnson imagine
632 notes
·
View notes
Text
As much as I hate Feyre, I genuinely sometimes feel bad for how SJM uses her. SJM never seems to take mental health issues seriously in her books, and I think she made Feyre’s character worse in ACOMAF by making her look even more foolish. I can’t believe someone who went to all that effort for Tamlin would just trust and believe Rhysand to that degree in such a short time. And yeah yeah people heal from trauma differently, but this is the same guy who literally degraded her in front of all of Prythian, humiliated her, and taunted the person she thought was the love of her life for months.
SJM made Feyre seem so easily manipulated and childish—not even naive, just childish. And then, the moment she becomes fake 'High Lady' she’s somehow both self righteous and constantly bragging about her "powerful family” at every opportunity like she’s above everyone and everyone should bow to her husband. After the war, she opens a painting studio but still doesn’t care about the lives of the females in her court outside of Velaris. This.. all of this while being mad at Tamlin for doing something basic like collecting taxes—something a functioning government has to do.
I honestly don’t get what SJM is trying to do with Feyre. Time and time again, she clearly makes Feyre her self-insert. Is she admitting that the only feminism that matters is white feminism? That the moment SJM married her husband (who she claims is Rhys), she lost her agency and he became her handler? Is this a cry for help? I just don’t get it.
So yeah, sometimes I feel bad for Feyre. She’s so SO young, and her husband is 500 years older than her—we should hold him waaayyy more accountable for every shitty thing Feysand does. But the mystery of Feyre’s bad character progression always makes me wonder: did SJM do it on purpose, or does she truly just not see the problem? (I’m leaning towards the latter because her fans—a lot of them—also can’t see what the problem is with Feysand and the IC.)
#anti acotar#anti acotar fandom#anti feyre#critical feyre#anti rhysand#acotar critical#anti sjm#acotar fandom critical#anti feysand#anti ic#anti inner circle#feyre critical
151 notes
·
View notes
Text
As the ASoUE fandom, we need to acknowledge the drastic differences between the books and show more often. I love them both though I do prefer book canon on this particular subject. The schism. The timeline can be confusing. And it's so important to recognize that while in the show, Beatrice accidentally killing Olaf's father incited the schism and Olaf's villainy, in the book, Kit tells us the schism happened when she was four. If we are assuming all our main generation of V.F.D. members are probably within a few years of each other in age, this happened when they were all young children. This changes a lot, but most importantly it means that the death of Olaf's parents and the great schism, were two different events. And also, this means they all grew up in schism V.F.D. essentially this environment of warring factions. They didn't get to experience a maybe healthier version of V.F.D. They grew up in an atmosphere where their lives would much more often have been at stake. Well I've been thinking about that night at the opera, since the schism had already happened, it could have played a part in the events. The show says it was an accident, but the books never clarify. To be honest, the books make things sound much more like an assassination...not saying it was but I won't say it wasn't. We see the Baudelaires themselves come to the conclusion their parents weren't who they thought they were. Why would they have poison darts if they didn't intend to use them? Kit says she snuck them past Esme to the Baudelaires. (Which is another thing. Seriously, if this was an assassination, Kit participated in the murder of her fiancée's parents...Olaf didn't seem to blame her like he did the others, did he not know, or did she not know what they would be used for so he didn't consider her complicit?) And for the record, the death of one person with a dart like in the show, could be an accident. Both of Olaf's parents died in the book and that's a lot harder to answer for. So why would the Baudelaire parents assassinate Olaf's parents? Would "noble" V.F.D. really condone something like that? I mean, I guess they were messing around with the medusoid mycellium...planning to use it against their enemies. Could the Baudelaires actions that night relate to their reluctance to tell the kids about their organization? As for why they would do that, is it possible Olaf's parents might have been villains on the other side of the schism? Were they planning something horrible? We are basically told that night is why Olaf switched sides, could he really have been on the noble side at a time when his parents weren't? What did Olaf see that night, how did he know who to blame? Did he watch his parents die? Could his parents have been planning to strike first? Could they have meant to kill his friends, an event which would also drive Olaf insane, just in the other direction, against his parents? Is there any way his parents could have been innocent? I have a really hard time believing that if the Baudelaires did what they did, though it was still not okay. This is all wild speculation I know, but the book canon just opens up worlds of theories, unlike the show which seems to sacrifice the plot a bit, in order to keep our important characters hands clean. But if Daniel Handler taught us anything, its that no one really keeps their hands clean, everyone participates in treachery at some point, and you never know how horrible someone's treachery was, you can't necessarily trust someone just because you care about them. Can I just say how absolutely gutsy it was for Daniel Handler to deliver a thirteen book series, the plot of which is driven by the great split of this secret organization, only for him to never tell us what happened? He never explains the schism? I know he loves to leave unanswered questions but. But this. Then again, it's written from the Baudleaires perspective and for many reasons, they don't get to know. It is fitting that neither do we.
#a series of unfortunate events#lemony snicket#count olaf#v.f.d.#asoue#kit snicket#beatrice baudelaire
151 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I had to choose my favorite character from spy x family it would be this guy
1. He has funny and chill uncle energy
2. He's so underrated it's painful. He doesn't even have a name or codename(
3. He clearly worked in WISE for a long time, but still is impulsive as hell
4. He asked Twilight for a fuckin drink after Wheeler ark (the most dangerous mission they all had since the beginning of Operation Strix)
(Also am I the only one who sees the uncle teasing his angsty nephew about his first crush? No one else? Alright)
His comment about marital problems makes me think he had a family at some point and understands Twilight's inner conflict
Like here he clearly was both serious and teasing about tearful reunion. He suggested it seriously, because he understands that Twilight wants it deep down (He even calls Anya his girl). But he also teases the hell outta Loid for being in denial
5. He's the only agent that isn't afraid of Handler. He's even confident enough to argue with her and scold her in front of other agents. And honestly I feel like Silvia holds a lot of respect for him despite those arguments. It would be very interesting to know their history (not like we gonna have it in canon, they are too minor characters)
6. He seems to have this relaxed kind of wisdom that balances with his impulsive reactions
Thanks for listening to my TED talk
#spy x family#sxf manga#sxf#WISE agent#sylvia sherwood#agent mustache#loid forger#agent twilight#spy x family spoilers#sxf manga spoilers
632 notes
·
View notes
Text
someone talk with me about an AU where delores is a real girl who somehow survived the initial apocalypse and spends it growing old with five and keeping him sane
someone talk with me about delores being five’s age when he discovers her body in the rubble and thinks she’s dead before he notices the small rise and fall of her chest before he pulls her out and desperately tries to help her breathe normally again and watches the life fill her eyes with tears in his own that he’s finally no longer alone
someone talk with me about delores being an only child to parents who she wasn’t close with leading her to become dependent on herself until she meets five and learns to trust other people before finding out about his huge family and doing everything in her power to help him not only because she cares about him and wants him to be happy but also because she wants to experience the family she’s never had
someone talk with me about how delores never had powers but survived for the 40+ years in the apocalyptic wasteland of the future due to her seriously genius mind (and five’s help) and lives to help five figure out how to save his family
someone talk with me about young five and delores searching for anything they can find to survive before they stumble upon a half-broken mannequin with a surprisingly intact polka-dotted blouse that five says would suit her so she puts it on out of boredom from looking for materials before five looks at her with the most genuine, in-love eyes she’s ever seen and she decides to keep it just for him
someone talk with me about five always making sure delores has a comfortable place to sleep, to rest, to eat, etc
someone talk with me about five explaining his childhood so nonchalantly one day once he realizes that he can trust delores to her surprise, and she asks why he suddenly had the strength to tell her and he looks her in the eyes and says “believe it or not, you’re stuck with me, and i’m stuck with you, and i want you to know who i am when we’re kicking this apocalypse in the ass”
someone talk with me about teenage five teaching teenage delores how to defend herself with the training he was given during his childhood but reassuring her that he’ll always be there to protect her if something were to happen (to which she reminds him that she appreciates it, but knows she can defend herself with the spite and sheer willpower she has to survive)
someone talk with me about five and delores having a makeshift wedding and five’s vows being along the lines of “even if the rest of the world was alive, i don’t think i could ever hope to find someone that makes me as truly happy as you do, and i will be eternally grateful that of anyone i could get stuck in this goddamn apocalypse with, it was always you, and it will always be you”
someone talk with me about the handler showing up from the commission to recruit five as a temporal assassin and delores as a case worker because they’re both dangerously smart and incredible at surviving in harsh conditions (also, the handler approached them separately to see where their loyalties lied and they both firmly explained they wouldn’t go anywhere without the other)
someone talk with me about delores getting fed up with the handler repeatedly making moves on five despite him clearly being uncomfortable until it bubbles to a climax and she punches her square in the jaw, which results in an ER trip and zero regret (plus five falling even harder in love with the woman who endlessly sticks up for him)
someone talk with me about five and delores plotting an escape plan to get back to 2019 which all goes well, except five had once again messed up the math (or so he thought) and he and delores are placed back in their 13 year-old bodies, but she confesses that she doesn’t mind seeing the boy she fell in love with all those years ago once again
someone talk with me about delores learning to trust and love the hargreeves just as much as five, as they learn to love and trust her just as much
someone talk with me about five always keeping track of dates and specifically remembering the exact times of significant events for himself and delores, like the moment she looked at him for the first time, the moment he knew he was in love with her, and the moment they decided they were going to stop at nothing to keep each other alive and stop the world from ending
someone talk with me about five and delores, the 58 year-old couple that they are, snuggling up on elliot’s couch together because they can’t fall asleep without the other one there to remind them that they’re safe and out of harm’s way (mostly)
someone talk with me about how delores has never been the type to step down, and she continues to stand her ground and be brutally honest when shes upset or wants five to listen to her, and he admires her bluntness (and frankly, needs it) due to his impatience and expectations of honesty at all times
someone talk with me about delores knowing exactly when five needs his time alone and stepping away to help his siblings as much as she possibly can, usually by encouragement or (again) brutal honesty hidden behind a kind and genuine smile
someone talk with me about five reminding delores of his love for her whenever it’s too quiet or he thinks she’s gone too long without him showing it, in every way he can think of, like letting her know that he would’ve lost his mind in the apocalypse without her (which.. he kind of did?), finding little things that remind him of her and bringing them to her, and holding her hand whenever he sees frustration or discomfort bubbling behind her eyes
#ok i know there’s probably some fics about human delores so please if u know of any lmk!! i need#it is so unfair that i have no idea how to write#guys if i could write… oh boy#i would have tons of 100k word multi chapter fics out at all times#it’s ridiculous#if i could write this shit#omfg i can’t even explain how much i’d love to be able to write this shit bro#i need this to be a fic and i need to be able to read 50 chapters of it right now in this moment#i’m losing my mind over them. for the love of god someone save me#please please please add onto this!!!!!! i love thinking about them#please please please if anyone wants to write about this do it omfg#you have no idea how much i’d eat that shit up#i’m probably going to add to this#i have so many ideas about them#five and delores…. my beloved#laur rambles#laur says stuff#the umbrella academy#tua#umbrella academy#five hargreeves#hargreeves siblings#delores#tua delores#five x delores#tua dolores#dolores#five x dolores#number five#tua five
158 notes
·
View notes
Text
Some All-star Assistant Noah doodles ^^
Ramblings under the cut beware I am delusional :3 Also my grammar is atrocious-
Probably takes place after RR cuz I would of loved the reality TV pros last line to mean something we were R o b b e d
Noah takes up the offer to be Chris's assistant again and decides to start making his way up the Hollywood ladder :D. He's working hard and we love that for him.
After world tour Chris kinda forgot he put Alejandro in the Tdm so he was converted into a break room table :b. Noah's really busy and kinda needs his own assistant to keep on top of his assistance work, so he cleans him up for simple requests and stuff. He gets a star sticker if he's done a good job :D (WDYM Noah's totally not humanising the robot naurrrrr-) Surprisingly it's his most competent and friendly coworker :b
Noah then gets promoted to Assistant/director/animal handler/robot handler/host for the All-stars season, mostly because nobody is willing to work with Chris again after the last couple seasons (he is so overworked and tired he's in his natural habits,aka on the brink of collapse). I'm not gonna take away the interns tho we love the interns. MENTOR INTERN NOAH OMG THE INTERACTIONS IM INSANE IM GOING IN THE DOME.
Not much but uuuh OWEN OWEN IS AN ALL-STAR OK I LOVE HIM HE DESERVES IT ITS HIM MOMENT HE IS THE MOST snunujsunINIJS
But like seriously I want Al and Owen to bond over being younger brothers (hc Owen is a middle child with two older and younger brothers since both have been said in canon) like just let them talk about being left out and ignored but still having responsibility and expectations put on them. Give me Owen who went on TD so maybe his parents could just remember he existed. Give me Alejandro and him getting along ok it could be great I love hating but CMONNNNNNNN ajidjijsijs
I'll probably write more in another post but I'm drawing blanks rn so shuhushhshuhauuhshshsjis
#total drama#noah td#total drama machine#noah total drama#tdas#total drama all stars#assistant noah#tw swearing#potential alenoah depends on how things turn out lol#your honour he is tired get him a blanket and hsm2 on dvd stat#hc that noah listerns to the td songs ironically but then unironically cuz thems a bop#OWEN 👏 IS 👏 A 👏 ALL-STAR#alejandro td#heheh peanuts reference#tdi#redraw on the third one#alenoah
656 notes
·
View notes
Text
An overlooked detail at the end of NTN is the fact that John is on some kind of conference call with his erstwhile CIA(?) handlers for much of the endgame.
And while it was very much a situation they could have avoided by not giving the magical death guy a nuke in exchange for Presidential Puppet Pals, you do have to feel a bit sorry for the poor bloke on the phone with John...
CIA dude who is beginning to realise they seriously fucked up: John, you seem to be having some big feelings right now, but we don't hurt people when we're having big feelings.
John, who hasn't slept in weeks and is building a barricade out of chairs while on speakerphone: Haha, Australians aren't real people! *distant burst of gunfire* Do you want some cow facts? *background screaming* Also, did you know the president's finger is on the big red button?
319 notes
·
View notes
Text
hnnnngh animal hybrids getting me so…..yan hybrid heartslabyul time
Riddle is a pampered little kitty, who always knows he's the best of the best! He's got the pedigree to back him up on it too. there's a strict routine he follows down to the letter-wake up, groom himself neatly, eat a balanced breakfast, spend time observing for intruders-it's all rather tiring, but he sticks to it like no other. if his carefully set up routine is offset, expect some major temper tantrums incoming. still, he is a cat, and as such he'll still adamantly stick to your side for cuddles and petting. once you see him sleepy eyed and pouty lipped, perhaps you can forgive him for his stringent attitude other times. But you know he only does all these tiresome things to make sure you pay attention to him, and him only, right? best make sure you don’t indulge in bad habits, lest you end up on the wrong side of his claws. If you won’t look at him, then he’ll make you look at him.
a faithful companion is what Trey is, as being a dog hybrid, especially of the Newfoundland breed, means his loyalty and ability to care for others is second to none. He's extremely good natured and so patient, even with the rowdy younger ones. you have to remind him to not hover over the others too much, lest he stretch himself too far or his mother henning ends up controlling. It's already happened to you so far, even though you'd argue that's what you're supposed to be doing for him. his instinct to protect must be ingrained deeply, for why does it seem like he's always trailing after you nagging? it's one thing to look out for you, it's completely another thing to run his paws down your body for injuries. maybe you should enlist in some retraining advice…otherwise you might end up pinned to your bed with a possessive hound rutting into you.
a sly little thing, that Cater. Foxes are mischievous by nature, and he is no different. always pulling you to his side for surprise selfies or stealing your ribbon to tie up his own hair, he sure knows how to keep you on your toes. that said, he's still a lovable guy, just not very…honest. Is that another inherent trait? You often ask him where he’s been most of the day and he answers with a vague “just hanging around with other people!”(even though you swear you saw a flash of red orange fur out of the corner of your eye when you went shopping), or when you ask if he’s seen your favorite shirt, only to catch him red handed with it in the laundry. Still, it’s not like he’s weird or mean, it’s just that he needs a firm hand when going too far. And when it gets to the point where you’re having to confiscate his phone for having numerous photos of you, you’ll have to do something real quick or else you might end up flashing more than just underwear in those snaps.
you swear that Ace is a rascal, a rascal! Do all weasel hybrids act like this? one moment you're minding your own business and the next you're having to stop him from consuming your entire snack supply from the pantry. he's always managing to get himself in trouble that it has to be a talent at this point. Some days, you have to seriously consider whether you regret bringing him in from the shelter. Although, maybe that’s too harsh. When he’s not hellbent annoying the soul out of you, he entertains you with tricks up his sleeves, always smugly smiling whenever you compliment his skills. He has his soft moments. but sometimes he gets too mean–always snarling at your other friends or insulting you to the point of tears or frustration. Just when you think about returning him to another handler who could take care of such a rowdy guy, he always manages to come pleading and begging for your forgiveness and then your heart is too nice to not forgive him in the end. this game of tug of war can’t be good for you, but you don’t know that Ace is too well versed in playing hot and cold, and if it means you’ll be isolated from one more rival that isn’t him, then he’ll gladly play this game of breaking your heart.
your heart melts when you look at Deuce. you found the raccoon hybrid shivering in the snowy cold and brought him inside immediately. He’s a little roughed up but with a lot of warm food and being dried by a fluffy towel, he’s practically sparkling with a cool beauty that can’t be seen anywhere. You calm him down from his fretting and over time, he grows rather attached to your side. always insisting on doing your share of the work, claiming it’s to repay you for all you’ve done for him. It’s a little worrying though. Raccoons are mostly solitary creatures, but Deuce has told you he’s been separated from his mother, and you wish to help him reunite with his family. But why is it that he’s not in any hurry to leave? Is he afraid? surely not, as you’ve seen him send intimidating guys twice his size packing from his fighting skills. It’s a secret, but Deuce has been chickening out on proposing to you. he’s been wanting to introduce someone to his mother for a while and put her worries to rest, but every time he’s faced with your smiling face he always ends up red faced and silent. Just give him a couple more days to drum up his courage! once he returns triumphantly with you swollen with his cubs by his side, he’ll be able to rest easy.
#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#my works#almost posted this on the wrong blog ☠#relieving stress by sketching the boys tm
629 notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆˚✿˖ Twisted Wonderland Masterlist II ˖✿˚⋆
Masterlist I
Heartslabyul
Ruined - Riddle x reader
In which he slowly realizes that he'll never be able to look at anyone else, he's been ruined for everyone else but you.
Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want a Refund - Trey x reader
When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key. Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.
Possessed - Ace x reader
Something’s going on with Ace. He's being nice which either means he's possessed or has done something extremely illegal. (Spoiler alert: It's neither)
Savanaclaw
Still Into You - Leona x reader
You return to your old town, only to cross paths with Leona Kingscholar—the one who got away and the one you never stopped loving. Perhaps this time, fate is offering a second chance to make things right.
or: Exes to Lovers with Leona
Octavinelle
Trash Novel Chronicles: My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy - Floyd x reader
"You get isekaid into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving all your problems."
Shot Through the Heart - Jade x reader
As a senior Cupid with a 99% matchmaking rate, your flawless record crumbles before your eyes when Jade Leech resists every arrow you shoot.
Trash Novel Chronicles: How to Ruin a Plot || Jade x reader
When you end up as the villainess in a story that's hellbent on making her suffer for no reason, you decide to make the main characters suffer just for catharsis. Good thing that your fiancé, Jade Leech seems to like chaos as much as you.
Scarabia
Trash Novel Chronicles: Stealing the Plot for Drama - Jamil x reader
The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it. So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport.
Trash Novel Chronicles: Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire - Kalim x reader
You lose everything you've worked after getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager after a freak accident. As the villainess.
It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.
Brighter than the Sun - Kalim x reader
Kalim shines like the sun, radiant and unwavering—yet each day, he burns a little closer to the edge, waiting for the moment he no longer has to be the light for everyone else.
Pomefiore
Just the Way You Are - Vil x reader {Request}
Vil shows you that you’re perfect as you are, helping you embrace your beauty inside and out.
Take Two - Vil x reader
You and Vil, once lovers, are forced to reunite through work, stirring up old heartbreak and undeniable tension. Slowly, you realize love never truly left, and some stories deserve a second chance.
How to Handle Your Diva - Vil x reader
You’re the unofficial Vil Schoenheit handler, a role you assumed when you started dating him. Whether it’s calming his temper or redirecting his wrath, you’ve become the only one capable of keeping poor midguided souls from biting the dust.
aka the 7 times you save someone from getting poisoned or worse.
Totally Normal Romance - Rook x reader
You've fallen hard for the hunter and you're dating! But when you tell your friends the good news, they immediately try staging interventions. Huh, I wonder why?
Ignihyde
Fae Courtship 101: Romance Gone Wrong - Idia x reader
In your desperation to confess your feelings to Idia, you've recruited Malleus to help you. Except his help is mildly concerning at best and extremely alarming at worst.
Diasomnia
Starstruck - Malleus x reader
After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.
Lost in Translation - Malleus x reader
You have an idea: what better way to confess to Malleus than in his native language? Except you have severely overestimated your abilities.
1800-Curse-Control - Lilia x reader
You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.
Multi Characters
Making Up After an Argument With: Vice Housewardens + Kalim
Vice Housewardens + Kalim trying a period simulator
Summer Nights with: Housewardens + Jamil
Romance Clichés with: Leona ; Azul ; Vil ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle
Desperate Confessions with: Leona, Riddle ; Jamil, Sebek
Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil ; Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years
Pick Us! (In which you have to choose a club and everyone wants a piece of you)
And I Pick... (In which you choose the club)
Kiss Cam with: First Years
Cuteness Aggression with: Idia, Cater, Octatrio ; Malleus, Rook, Lilia, Jamil, Riddle, Leona
Vs Plushies: Overblot gang + Rollo
Zoo Tycoon: Housewardens (In which they turn into animals)
Drunken Confessions with: Octatrio + Idia
Requests
Skully J. Graves x reader (feat. Sally)
Jealous! Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Epel
Vil x Mermaid! Reader
Jamil x Intimidating! Reader
Azul, Malleus, Idia x Alien! Reader
First Year Trio vs Freshly Painted Bench
Vil x Reader who finds Neige creepy
White Rabbit! Reader Aftermath (All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Che'nya)
Housewardens x Reader with a blinding smile
Leona x Reader (Romantic, Reader considers him their king)
Malleus, Silver, Ace with a Sheep in Wolf's clothing
Leona with drunk! reader
Malleus x Leona’s Bodyguard! Reader
Silver x reader x RSA! Silver
Rook, Trey, Malleus, Vil x Witch! Reader
Jamil, Floyd, Azul, Idia with the Orange Peel Theory (Kinda)
Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil reacting to reader singing their Villain songs
Ace x reader x Malleus (Love Triangle)
Leona, Octatrio, Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Rook, Rollo x Kokomi! Jellyfish! Reader
Deuce x Snow White! reader
Housewardens x M! Cowboy! Reader
Ace, Deuce reacting to a glow up (hcs)
Overblot Gang + Trey Being your Comfort Person
They realise what you went through - All NRC + Rollo + Neige + Grim, Staff
They react to you breaking down - Ace, Deuce x reader
Housewardens with a Miku! Reader
Drabbles/Asks
Kissing Malleus’s forehead scale
Main Masterlist
300 notes
·
View notes