#I didn't like what they wanted us to focus on answering. I wanted to investigate death culture in each cradle of civilization

[the-cooler-king]

Have to pick a topic to research in nat science and its killing me.... the options are all really good

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 2

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: couldn't still believe that this ff blew up like tysm for all of your support! and thank you so much for waiting~ and like always, this is not proofread lol

previous / masterlist / next

“if i'm not mistaken, the mission would take at least three to four business days.” yaga passes satoru a sheet of paper where it contains all of the information he needed to know and what kind of things he should focus on investigating.

satoru looked at his former teacher in uncertainty despite the blindfold in his eyes. he's very hesitant to take the mission not because he cannot beat this curse, but because he still needs to apologize to you as soon as possible.

“yaga, c—can i not…” satoru was about to continue when he suddenly trailed off.

“not what?” yaga raises his eyebrow.

but to think that it's all his fault, he must have really hurted you this time, and you wouldn't probably hear him out that easily. that is why satoru thinks that it is best to just give you some space as of now, and when he comes back from his mission, that is the time when he would bother you with his presence.

“it's nothing. i’ll be taking my leave now.”

“very well—” before yaga could even finish his sentence, satoru already vanished in thin air.

the duo, yuuji and megumi, was on their way to visit you just like what they had promised to themselves a while ago.

it was around eight o'clock in the evening and here they are, kind of tiptoeing through the hallway where your room is located.

“i think it's better to let her know our presence first.” megumi said quietly to the pink haired male while holding out a basket with foods that are suitable for digestion of a pregnant lady.

“then it wouldn't be a surprise if we told her.” yuuji then answered. he was carrying two board games on his left arm and a uno card on his right hand. you actually once told them that you were exceptionally good at these kinds of games, so yuuji wanted to test that out.

suddenly, the two boys stopped in front of a door where they immediately froze at the smell of something oddly familiar. “me…megumi, is this y/n sensei’s room?” yuuji slowly mumbles out a word, his eyes going wide.

however, megumi didn't answer him. instead, he immediately tries to open the door without any hesitation just to know that it is locked.

panic slashed across their faces as the smell of blood coming out of your room becomes the leading factor of their franticness behavior.

“y/n sensei! are you there?!” yuuji keeps on calling out to you while megumi does the door breaking.

“it's locked! i can’t break the door!” curse these doors in jujutsu high. megumi could not help but to mumble profanities when he remembered that the doors in jujutsu high are purposely made this strong so any invading curses could not sneak in especially during sleeping hours where most of the sorcerers are vulnerable.

“itadori! call yaga sensei and shoko-san, quick!” megumi screamed at the other boy, whom he instantly obliged.

a weave of panic surge on their bodies because you are involved in this situation. not to mention, you are pregnant on top of that and that puts the situation into a more nerve-wracking experience.

sweat drips on megumi’s forehead as he still tries to break the door. kicks and punches were made but still the door wouldn't flinch his attacks. the idea of using his curse technique came into his mind but he's afraid that it would worsen the situation.

sooner and faster, yuuji came back with the two elders running faster than before. both also have a panic flash on their faces as yaga begins to break the door with his insane force. and after countless tries, he successfully invades the door.

everybody froze at the sight, because there they saw you, lying unconsciously in a pool of your blood that trickled down on your lower body.

“shit! what happened?!” shoko was the first to react and immediately came closer to you to check your pulse, it was there but weak. then shoko proceeds to check your baby's heartbeat, and to her disappointment, there was none that she could detect.

“yaga sensei, please help me get y/n to my clinic. now!” without a further do, yaga carefully lifted up your body and then proceeded to follow the frantic shoko to her said clinic.

on the other hand, yuuji and megumi watch the two elders quickly move away from the scene and that leaves the two. they had been quiet all the time, probably still traumatized because they just saw one of their teachers (plus with an unborn child) on the literal verge of dying.

megumi's eyes trailed on the pool of blood that had been sitting on your floor. he could tell that you had been unconscious for like way past an hour now due to some parts of the blood being fresh while some parts were dried.

“what the hell just happened…?” yuuji was still flabbergasted. he would never expect that this would happen when he just visualizes this night as a fun one because he got everything ready for a surprise mini party to cheer you up.

“i don't know.” megumi solemnly answered.

“...do you think y/n sensei and her baby would be alright?” yuuji added, totally worried about your situation.

for the first time in his life, megumi didn't think he that would utter the same word but with a different tone, different meaning, and in a different situation.

“i…i don't know.”

satoru gojo was busy walking through the busy street of roppongi despite the sky being nighttime. the whole atmosphere was still so lively from bright signage up to crowded night market stalls. this makes a perfect night for a perfect leisure.

but satoru isn't here to do that. he was supposed to do a job and finish it as soon as possible so he could get back to you and finally do the right thing.

he was about to enter an abandoned building when he received a phone call. without looking at the caller, he answered.

“what?”

“where are you?” it was his corporate friend, nanami.

a teasing smile made it into his demeanor. “oh wow! here is my underclassmen calling me first—!”

“i am asking you, where are you?” nanami was clearly not in the mood for his bullshit. his tone was beyond serious and it made satoru wonder if something happened.

“i'm in roppongi. somewhere behind a luxurious night bar.” gojo said.

the moment he said his address, the phone suddenly dropped. confused, the six eyes looked at his phone then just shrugged it off. for the second time, he was about to enter the said building when someone appeared from behind.

“you should go back.” there he saw nanami, breathless as he tried to catch his breath. looks like he ran his way towards his location.

“yo, my man! what are you doing he—”

“go back to the jujutsu high. i’ll be taking your mission here.” nanami explained like he was .

did something happen? was on satoru's mind.

“why?” satoru dropped all of his mischievousness as it was replaced by his unhidden worry—you were literally there at the jujutsu high.

there was a pause on nanami, he seemed very hesitant to say it and satoru was growing impatient.

“just say it nanami—”

“yaga asked me to take your mission on your behalf after something happened. it's about your wife. she was found unconscious in her room.”

never ever in his life he could feel the quickest adrenaline rush in his body as nanami didn't even manage to utter the last syllables of his sentence when satoru already uses his technique and teleports himself towards your room back in jujutsu high.

and there, he was welcomed by the janitors of the said school, mopping the dried liquid on the floor. the smell was so familiar that it made his body tremble in a span of a second.

“w-what the fuck happened here?” he asked the janitor who looked at him in pity as he continued to solemnly wipe the floor.

“miss y/n was found unconscious and there was blood…in her lower area.”

blood, y/n, unconscious, my wife, danger, the baby…my baby!

that was the only thing that came into his mind as he went out of the hallway and ran somewhere he wasn't aware of. his mind raced with negative thoughts.

and since his life is not always about sugarcoating—he thought that probably you just had a miscarriage, got attacked by some curses, or worse, you're dead. his wife, you, were hurt when he was away and not even there to at least protect you.

unbeknownst, to the man, tears were threatening to slip down his six eyes, making his blindfold become wet as it was being absorbed by his tears constantly. satoru could feel that his body was filled with self-loathing, guilt, and regret all over his system.

“satoru.” a voice called him from behind. satoru does not need to turn around to know who it was. it was yaga.

“come to my office.” without waiting for him, yaga already left with satoru trailing behind him. taking off his blindfold, satoru wiped the tears that were about to fall.

when they arrived at yaga’s office, he saw his two students, yuuji and megumi, sitting quietly by the couch. they were both acting quietly odd, like they knew what was going on too.

“where's y/n?” satoru asked.

“do you want to know what happened first?” yaga avoided his question for now. instead, he goes into the other aspect that he's been wondering too. satoru fell quiet, so yaga took it as a yes.

the principal looked at the two students who were already looking at him. sighing deeply, yaga then proceeds to start explaining.

“y/n was found unconscious by these two. it has been over an hour since she's been in that situation judging by the dryness of her blood. right now, we still had no idea about her state since shoko's the one who's been handling the situation. and it's been a while too since we have seen her.”

“and the baby…i'm sorry, gojo. but we have no idea either.” yaga sighed heavily. satoru was all silent, he couldn't bring himself to utter any word. he was too caught up about the situation that he had so many things to say to the point that he couldn't figure out where to start.

“i know it's not my business to interfere but…did something happen that leads to this?” the principal asked the strongest. the next moment was something that everyone expected—they did not receive any response from the man.

suddenly, the door burst open, revealing the tired doctor. her eyes landed on your husband who's still frozen about your condition. on the other hand, satoru was too busy drowning himself with his thoughts to notice shoko in the room.

“itadori, megumi…go back to your dorm for now. it's getting late and i’ll just update you two tomorrow.” shoko scurry the two younger boys and they obliged.

as the door in yaga's office closed, the three grown-ups fell into a silent atmosphere, only the sound of the air ventilation could be heard inside.

“h-how’s y/n and the child?” yaga was the first one to speak among the three. but shoko's attention was drawn to gojo only and gojo was still unable to move.

“her situation was so severe that we needed to put her into a hospital as soon as possible.” shoko said quietly and directed to gojo only. her eyes were trailed to him, and only him. she wants him to taste the bitter medicine of his aftermath and she is going to make sure he's taking it.

call her brutal and cruel, but in your realm of marriage where her role is only being a worried close friend, she would choose you over everything. that's how much she cares for you. shoko could see what kind of person you are, and she believes that you deserve better than what you are right now.

sure, gojo was right when he said that she'd only known you for a short period of time. but that is enough for her to determine that she is going to stick by your side whatever may happen. because she knows how a gojo satoru works, she knows what kind of person he could be.

if gojo can manage to leave shoko out in his life, then he could do it to y/n too.

“she was bleeding too much, i'm afraid it has to do with the child. so if we don't act fast, we might have to choose who to save—are we going to save y/n and lose the baby? are we going to save the baby and lose y/n? or…what if we lose them both—”

*boogsh!*

a sudden explosion was seen. the four walls inside yaga’s office have officially become three when satoru couldn't handle his emotions that he let his cursed energy slip and create a hole into one of yaga’s walls. the impact was so strong that it literally shook the whole jujutsu high.

and surprisingly, none of the three inside the scene was scratched, just emotionally taken aback. the once gojo satoru who couldn't even utter a word earlier, was now looking at shoko with a mixture of menace, trouble, anger, grief, and…extreme sadness.

shoko ties his stare, looking equivalently. “did you hear what i said, gojo? your wife and your baby are currently facing the grim reaper. do you understand that?” she said calmly but there is a hit or hardness into her tone.

“shut up! fucking shut up!” another surge of curse energy flows in different directions, making yaga and shoko feel goosebumps on how strong it is.

“satoru!” yaga yelled in panic.

“where is she? where the fuck is she?! show me where she is!” satoru screamed at the doctor. shoko, whose face is now back to emotionless, decides to subside her annoyance to the man as she knows you are the top priority right now.

“i will let you see her. but once you see her, you have to teleport us into the hospital immediately if you still want to see her open her eyes.” shoko said seriously. thankfully, satoru managed to calm himself alone and just stared at shoko, waiting for her to continue.

“y/n was experiencing placenta abruption. it's a very serious complication in her case because the placenta in the inner wall of her uterus is completely detached. it greatly affects the baby’s supply of oxygen and nutrients and the situation causes her to bleed heavily.”

“i immediately minimize the bleeding but i cannot guarantee the two's safety, especially the baby, since it is not worth the risk to imply cursed energy to an unborn child—” before shoko could even finished explaining, satoru already stormed out of the room and just proceeds to the room where his guts tell you where. he was being followed by shoko who was screaming at him.

opening one of the doors, there he saw you all pale. he could feel your cursed energy barely beating, and that scared the shit out of him because that indicates your weakness.

��o-oh god…” satoru couldn't help but to feel his breathing pattern becoming irregular as a single tear followed by another drop from his gorgeous powerful blue eyes.

this can't be happening. you were just fine a while ago!

“y/n, oh my g-god! my wife…” gojo satoru, known by his title as the strongest sorcerer in his generation, was seen crying over his dying wife and dying unborn child. his tall figure was trembling in tangled emotions that he couldn't even determine the two ends.

“sorry to ruin your moment, but if you want to save your family, it's better for us to keep moving now.” shoko followed the suit, still savage as ever.

gojo does what she said and teleports the three of you into the bestest hospital that he knows. ignoring the toll on his cursed energy as it took more, more than the usual usage, satoru believes that your well-being should be his priority rather than his.

when they arrived, shoko immediately started to bump the people out of the way and started to call for help. “someone! get us to an emergency!” she screamed.

meanwhile, satoru keeps your body close to him. hugging your frame ever so delicately, scared that you might break or disappear.

a man like satoru gojo, whom to some called him a man-god, find himself crying out to every gods and deities out there to help you, to help him get this through. he prays and prays to keep you safe and how he's sorry for all of the things he would do.

for sure, he knew this sudden care for you is not born out of pity or regret, it is a late realization on how much he couldn't bear to see you like this. because deep inside him, satoru couldn't deny the warm feeling of having someone that was waiting for him to come home, provide him service, and even give him a bundle of joy.

the words he swore to himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is completely capable of being by himself was getting eaten by his current self. served on a silver platter, satoru didn't mind eating his own words.

a stretcher was bought on sight and shoko instructed him to put your body there and watch the series of doctors rush your body into the emergency room. satoru watches the light above the door where you were in turns red, signaling that it requires immediate medical attention.

placing his traumatized body on one of the cold walls of the hospital, sliding his man shoulders and crumbling himself into small pieces to make himself as small as possible. never he would have thought that the night would end with him continuing to pray for your safety.

satoru didn't realize that he dozed off within the walls of a random corner of a hospital where he brought you in. he only realized his current situation when he could feel someone kicking his lower body constantly.

opening his tired eyes, he saw shoko eyeing him while still continuing to nudge him. “good, you're awake.” she said.

it feels like a surge of energy flows to his body and it immediately makes him rise up faster than he could. that was also when he started to feel all of the aches in his body just from sleeping in that kind of position.

“fuck, my whole body aches.” he mumbles to himself. satoru was about to stretch himself when he saw the time on the wall.

5:05 AM

and then his eyes landed on the door.

there was no red light anymore.

“y/n. shoko, where's y/n?!” anxiousness washed all over his body. he didn't know what to expect on what answers he's about to receive regarding his family condition.

meanwhile, shoko thinks that gojo looked like a lost puppy on how his eyes literally beg for a positive answer. despite his six foot frame, he looks like a poor and desperate child.

“the operation ended an hour ago. y/n was now stable and goy transferred into one of the private rooms. while the baby…” she pauses.

“w-what? what happened to my baby?” shoko almost grimaces the way satoru addresses the unborn child, wondering where the hell did he get the guts to say that.

the doctor was this close to brutally and savagely roast this man until he flew in shame—that’s how mad, angry, and upset shoko from what satoru did to you. but today is not the suitable day for that, she may be cruel but she had limits. so, shoko forcefully swallowed the harsh words and decided to just put it aside.

“the baby was delivered early through cesarean, it's the only way to save y/n and the child. the baby is currently in a neonatal intensive care unit where the bestest doctors monitor the child until it reaches mature development.”

so basically, you give birth to his child. satoru couldn't explain what he's feeling right now. he's happy for the baby, and yet at the same time, he feels really undeserving, but he still wants to be part of the child's life—this is too complicated for him.

and besides, this is not the right time to contemplate. because as a husband and father, he needed to stay with his family to provide them love, support, and to patch that once had been wounded. and he's going to start with…

“can i go and see y/n?” deep inside him, satoru felt ridiculous for asking that question since he is the literal husband! or was he? after everything he had done to her for five years?

shoko then tiredly pointed at the room at the end of the hallway and satoru, with the help of his long legs, never ran faster than his whole life.

gently opening the door in your room, satoru was greeted by your peaceful and sleeping form with all of the tubes connected on the back of your hand. closing the door behind him, satoru finally let go of the tears he's been holding the whole time, ranging from the confrontation with you until to to this situation.

sitting on the chair beside your bed, satoru weeps as he holds your arm. at this moment, the strongest no longer exists, it was just gojo satoru who couldn't stop himself from muttering an apology to his wife that he did so wrong.

they say, you would only realize the importance of something when it's now late. satoru would absolutely agree to that statement and he could even provide proofs and evidence. at first, he's being a total dick and douchebag to his wife who clearly doesn't even do anything wrong to him. then his own wife endured all of his actions for the whole five years and still remained as if their relationship could be only determined on a sheet of paper.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.” satoru may not know what would happen the moment you would open your eyes. would you send him away? or would you let him stay despite all of the pain and trauma he caused you? for now, he can never know.

but one thing he's going to let you know, he's going to change for you and for his baby. he's done doing things for himself, and now, he should focus on you.

and he's going to start with cutting all of his ties to his mistress.

[part 3 is now posted! for those who wanted to be tagged, just say it on the comments — ©luvvixu2024]

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @tttttttf @slyhersophia @rirk-ke @username23345 @lvstru @neteyxms

[kiyo-cant-write]

octavinelle with animal lover reader ✧･ﾟ

Summary: This Yuu has always loved animals since they were young, fish and mammals alike. They venture to see the ocean life in Octavinelle, meaning both the fish and the fish people :)

TW/CW: None

Notes: pre-relationship, gender neutral reader, they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is implied to be Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect

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[Name] had always loved animals. Dogs, cats, even fish! They were all so cool. When they were little they had been interested in fields of work involving animals. As they grew up, the love never faded. Even in this Twisted Wonderland, it remained. But... with some new sides.

Now that focus was directed elsewhere. Here at NRC, there were merfolk and beastmen. It was all too cool. They had to ask, they had to investigate. They wanted to know more, to know everything!

They walked into the Mostro Lounge and approached...

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Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is a very busy man and he doesn't expect part of his day to be... this. [Name] catches him off-guard, something he doesn't like.

He is used to the weirdest of people asking him for things.

People always want things from him.

However, someone asking about his merform really makes him unsettled as he doesn't care for the form himself.

He sighs as soon as the questions begin but doesn't stop them.

Sadly, he is fond of this human and he lets them yap at him.

They apparently like octopi. He is oddly flattered by this sentiment.

In the end, Azul answers some of [Name]'s weird questions.

He offers them a few non-sinister smiles as well.

All for free, of course. He's a benevolent force after all.

Azul was startled when [Name] first burst into the Lounge and asked to speak to him. Well, asked was putting it nicely. They entered the room and beelined for Azul, much to his frustration. He had been working but doubted he would get anything more done now.

"Yes, [Name]-san?" he asked them after a moment, "What did you need from me?"

His voice was calm and collected as he smiled his businessman's smile at them, hoping to make this quick if it had anything to do with Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, or even that cat, Grim.

"I wanted to ask you something, Azul."

[Name] seemed confident today.

"Ask me what, exactly?" Azul asked them.

"I want to know more about merfolk. I've always loved animals and there are so many animal-like species here... I just need to know more!" they explained.

Azul was at a loss for words. They wanted to ask him about his... About merfolk? That was odd. It had to be a joke, right? This was...

"Can you tell me about them? Or yourself?" [Name] asked.

They had a look on their face that made Azul want to give in, much to his annoyance. Why was he okay with this? He didn't understand it.

"Alright, ask away with the questions then," he told them.

They smiled again as they asked their question.

"I was wondering if you can regrow your tentacles!"

"What."

Azul was once again at a loss for words. The octomer offered them an incredulous look. What the fuck? Why would you need to know that?

"I was wondering if you c—"

"I heard you the first time," he shushed them, "Why?"

"No reason, just curious," they told him.

He sighed. Today was going to be a long day.

"Alright, so you are just wondering about this trait in octopus merfolk," he repeated, for them or himself it was unclear, "I suppose the simple answer is... yes, I can."

"You can???"

[Name] seemed surprised.

"That's so cool! That's part of why octopi are some of my favorite animals! They're so magical to be able to do things like that!"

[Name continued to prattle on about octopi. But... For some reason, it felt a bit personal and Azul felt his face heat up.

"Is there a-anything else you'd like to know?"

"Well—Azul are you okay? You look like you have a fever!"

"No, no, I'm quite alright," he assured them, and the discussion continued.

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Jade Leech

Jade is always "polite" to those who come into the lounge.

He knows this human so he humors their questions.

He kindly reminds them that they need to buy a drink to stay.

"If you don't buy a drink I am afraid I will have to send you away..."

He sheds a few fake tears as he says this.

He knows that [Name] will understand he is kidding.

(He is serious about the drinks though)

Jade happens to be working when [Name] shows up.

He continues to do his job while they chat, slowly having them do lounge tasks alongside him while they talk. Feed two birds.

He finds it cute that they like morays this much.

Jade wonders if you would talk to him about his terrariums.

Even though he wouldn't mind showing off his merform, he is too busy with work and tells [Name] that it would hinder his work.

"I am very sorry, [Name], that is not a service the lounge provides."

Jade smiled at the sight of [Name] helping to bring orders to tables and check on the patrons of the Mostro Lounge. It was certainly helpful to have an additional set of hands during the busy hours. They had come asking questions about merfolk, asking one of the few they knew at school... It had resulted in work time for them.

The Octavinelle Vice Housewarden would say he felt bad if it did not benefit him immensely to have their time and energy today.

"Next order, [Name]-san," he reminded, handing them a tray as they came up to the counter once more, "Three more to go, I believe."

"Jade, will you really tell me more about merfolk if I do this?"

"Yes, of course," Jade told them, "You see, a deal is a deal and we at the Mostro Lounge take these things very seriously."

He gave them a close-mouthed smile that [Name] trusted.

They gave a quick nod and took the next order to its table.

"Hehe," came the soft laugh from Jade as he watched them go.

They trusted him too much, he was sure of it. But it was almost endearing when he thought about it, the blind trust of someone so kindhearted. He had to admit it interested him why they had trusted so easily. He was not as outwardly threatening as Floyd but he was certainly no saint either. Some said Jade was scarier than Floyd.

"I'm ready for the next one!" [Name] said, having returned while Jade was thinking, "Eh? Jade? Are you okay?"

The "shady" smile of Jade's returned as he nodded to them.

"Ah, of course. I'm alright. Let us take these last ones, shall we?"

Together, the pair delivered the last three orders to their customers who were eagerly waiting. Jade took two while [Name] took one with both hands. They had made quick work of the growing number of orders that had piled. Jade noted that he needed to edit the scheduling for the Lounge. This was not enough workers. Was it?

"Will you answer a question now?" [Name] asked as they headed back toward the Lounge kitchen, "Or is there more work to be done?"

"It would depend entirely on what your question is, [Name]-san," Jade told them, being surprisingly honest at that moment.

"I want to know what merfolk are like! What do they look like or do under the sea?" [Name] asked him, sparkling as brightly as gold.

"I see, I see," Jade mused as he thought, "I am afraid that I cannot show you what a merperson looks like today. It would hinder the productivity of the Lounge and Azul would not like it."

[Name] pouted and Jade only chuckled at the response.

"I can perhaps explain a fact you might like, though," he told them, "Would that suffice? One fact from a moray to a human."

"Ooh, okay!" [Name] agreed with a smile.

Jade admittedly found it a bit cute, but he didn't say anything about it. That would be a sentiment he shelved for another day.

"Us moray eel merfolk are bioluminescent."

"You glow? Like a glowstick?" they asked.

"What is a glowstick?" Jade returned the question with a question.

"You shake them and then crack them and they glow."

[Name] demonstrated with violent miming.

"...We glow but I do not think the shaking nor cracking is required."

"Oh..." they replied, pausing before they smiled again, "Cool!"

[Name] still seemed just as enthusiastic about it even without the added violence. Jade had to admit, maybe he wouldn't mind teaching them more should they desire it.

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Floyd Leech

Floyd having a bad mood day or not is the deciding factor for how he reacts to someone who is this enthusiastic about his species.

Let's assume you find him on a good day for your own safety.

Floyd laughs at you for asking. He thinks it's funny you like eels.

He thinks it's even funnier than they are asking him about eels.

"Do you ask the beastmen about themselves too?"

Still, it's kind of cute, he has to admit.

He answers questions, some better than others.

He gives some interesting facts here and there.

He isn't stupid, he just doesn't care for lessons much.

When [Name asks him about his merform, he smirks.

This just got very interesting :3

What a generous offer, as Azul might say.

Floyd watched [Name] as they listed off their favorite animals, among them were eels. He gave them a toothy grin as he heard the words leave them, the kind of expression that would send most people running to the opposite end of the damn school.

"Ne, Shrimpy. Do you really like eels that much?" he asked them, leaning a bit closer to them to stare at them with heterochromatic eyes, "Are they your favorite animal of all? That'd be fun."

"I like all animals, though," [Name] told him with a laugh, not seeming to mind the space, "But I am pretty fond of eels."

"All eels?" Floyd asked, hinting at the answer that would satisfy him.

"Well, I mean all eels are cool," they said before looking at him and smiling a moment later, "But I like morays the best."

"Good! We are the best there is," Floyd agreed, a grin still sparkling on his face as he laughed along with the human guest, forgetting his work.

He could waste time a bit with them. Azul would only get so mad and he was boring anyway, so serves him right. There was no way Floyd was in the mood to cook right now. He was in the mood to chat with Shrimpy about their favorite animals.

"So what else did you want to know?" Floyd asked, leaning against one of the plush chairs in the lounge as he watched them.

[Name]'s eyes sparkled.

"I really want to see what a merperson looks like..." they said, "Are they really so fishy?"

"Hmm? Why don't you find out, then~" Floyd said, taking [Name]'s hand as he walked them over to one of the larger fish tanks that decorated the space and climbed into it.

[Name] was amazed by the massive form that Floyd took on when outside of his human disguise. He was turquoise, with stripped patterns on his body and arm and ear fins that matched his coloring.

"Think us merfolk are nice then?" Floyd teased, "Want to join me?"

[Name] nodded, though it was unclear to which part of the question.

"Come on then!" Floyd said, giggling, reaching to pull them into the tank with him, "Aa, so nice~"

[Name] felt the cold water on their wet clothes that were now sticking to their body. They leaned up against Floyd who was so tall in this form. Or would it be "long"? Is that a better word? They didn't know.

This calm lasted only for a moment...

"FLOYD. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Azul's voice could be heard from across the room.

"Oops~ caught by the bossman," Floyd said, laughing again even if he seemed a bit miffed about being interrupted.

Even if the Lounge was busy and Floyd was on shift, he would always see it this way: Azul was interrupting his time with Shrimpy.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[ericshoney]

Driskill Hotel ~ Sturniolo Triplets, Sam and Colby

Summary: You tag along with your friends, Sam, Colby, Nick, Matt and Chris to the Driskill hotel, only to be a target for the night.

Warnings: swearing, spirits, ghosts, attachments, targeting, scratching, touching, headaches, platonic friendship, platonic nicknames

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's up guys! Today we are at the Driskill hotel." Sam shouted at the camera.

"We have some special guests you've been asking us to collab with for a while now. The Sturniolo triplets!" Colby cheered as the camera panned round to the identical trio.

"But they aren't our only guests, we have one of our regulars, Y/n!" Sam added as the camera turned to you.

You waved as Sam and Colby talked about the hotel. You had been on their channel before and were close friends with the triplets, so when the five males said they were doing a collab together, you had to join.

"We know what Y/n thinks of the paranormal, but what about you guys?" Colby asked the three.

As the guys talked, you looked around, feeling as if you were being watched, but there wasn't anyone. You went to turn back to the guys, when you saw a shadow go past towards the vault.

"Kid, you okay?" Chris called, seeing your distant focus.

"Not to startle anyone, I swear I just saw a shadow go past." You answered.

"No fucking way, already!" Nick exclaimed, making you laugh.

"Yeah, towards the vault." You said.

"You've always seen things early on in investigations." Colby stated.

"Either they like to show themselves, or I have terrible eyesight." You joked.

The six of you then started to explore, listening to the guides tell you about the spirits of the hotel, the history and some encounters they've had. You didn't see anything else for the time you were with the guides, only hearing a few noises, which the others heard too.

When it was time for you to explore without the guides, things started to get weird. You were standing next to Nick as you stood at the stairs where Samantha fell. Sam was asking some questions, when you felt a tug on your t-shirt.

"Nick, fuck off." You mumbled, thinking it was the eldest triplet teasing you.

"I didn't do anything." He responded.

You looked down but didn't see anything. Matt and Chris were further away from you, as well as Colby.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked, seeing your confused expression.

"Something tugged me, I thought it was Nick." You answered.

"Yeah cause I always get the fucking blame." He grumbled, making the others laugh.

"Maybe it's Samantha." Colby suggested.

Just then, one of the flashlights went on, making you all gasp.

"Samantha, if that's you can you touch this flashlight." Sam said, pointing to the light.

It then turned on again, making the guys react. You fell quiet as Matt asked the next question.

"Samantha, was it you who tugged Y/n's t-shirt?" He asked.

The flashlight turned on again, indicating a yes. You smiled a bit, feeling mixed emotions.

"Hi Samantha, I know this might seem scary, but we don't want to upset you. Did you like the sweets we left?" You asked softly. The light turned on again quickly.

"Maybe she's overwhelmed with everything. You have to remember the time period she was from." Colby suggested, just as the light turned on once again.

After a bit, you all decided to explore the area where Carlota was suspected to be. The moment you walked in, it was like someone took all your breath away.

"Fuck." You mumbled, holding your head as you stumbled slightly. Matt who was behind you, quickly grabbed you, holding you up.

"Hey, you okay, sweetheart?" He asked.

"Just went really dizzy." You answered.

"What the fuck!" Chris then exclaimed, making you flinch slightly as he was right behind you.

"What!" Sam exclaimed.

"Where the fuck did you get these scratches?" He called.

Upon hearing this, Sam, Colby and Nick rushed over to you as Chris gently touched the back of your neck. You winced slightly as the boys saw three long scratches down the back of your neck.

"I don't know." You answered, as they inspected the injury.

You all then heard a loud knock in the corner of the room.

"Carlota, is that you?" Colby called.

Another loud knock was heard, making you gasp. Matt kept an arm around you to keep you steady as the others set up the EMF rope. You watched but then started getting sharp pains in your head, causing you to fall to the floor.

"Shit!" Matt grumbled.

"Hey, Y/n, look at me." Matt called.

"Guys, help!" He called for the others.

The other rushed over, Sam leaving the camera to face the opposite wall, the five males surround you to try and support as you kept your eyes tightly shut, groaning in pain.

"Hey Y/n talk to us, what hurts?" Colby called, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Fuck....my....head." You groaned.

"It's gotta be Carlota, maybe she feels threatened?" Sam suggested.

"Carlota if your targeting Y/n, back the fuck up from our girl!" Nick exclaimed.

"No time for jokes, Nick!" Chris scolded.

"I'm not, you dumb fuck." Nick muttered.

"Carlota we order you to leave Y/n alone, you shall not touch her, call out to her or follow her!" Matt shouted.

Suddenly, you fell back. Colby who was behind you, caught you and helped you sit down. Sam rushed to grab you some water to drink as the triplets sat next to you.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" Nick called, as you drank some water.

"Yeah, sorry that was weird." You said.

"Don't be sorry, kid, it's not like you asked for it." Chris responded.

"You want to take a break?" Colby offered.

"If that's okay." You replied.

"Of course and if you don't want to come back in this room, you don't have too." Sam replied.

You nodded as Matt helped you up to your feet. The five of you left the room to take a break, hoping the rest of the night would be calmer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist

@mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[yoyomomiko]

[THREE] — The music box

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, violence, horror elements, cartman being cartman.

(a/n): this chapter is sooo long and it took me DAYS to write it!! >_< (I genuinely didn't sleep at all and just wrote this without stopping, hours without breaks xx) -- this is by far the longest fic/chapter that I've ever wrote... I can't believe it's over 11k words!! I apologize for any grammar mistakes, you can point them out nicely and I'll fix them!! I also apologize for how this chapter seems kinda bland ^.^ -- for some reason, i feel like there wasn't enough romantic tension and stuff... and Tweek's interactions with the reader were so awkward I just don't know how to write for him (╥⁠﹏⁠╥)

wc: 11.1k+

★m.list

★series m.list

<- [PREVIOUS] — [NEXT] -> (uncompleted)

Lunch was rarely quiet, but today's chaos reached a new level as Cartman slammed his backpack onto the cafeteria table with a grin.

"You guys aren't going to believe this." He started, practically shaking in excitement.

"Is it another terrible idea?" Kyle asked, barely looking up from his lunch.

"It's not a terrible idea." Cartman snapped, puffing out his chest. "It's a brilliant idea. A $200 idea, to be exact."

"Here we go..." Stan muttered, leaning back in his seat.

Cartman ignored the groans and unsure looks as he whipped out his phone like a trophy. "I just landed us a gig at the old DeLacroix mansion. They're paying us $200 to 'investigate paranormal activity'."

You all froze for a moment, processing his words.

"Two hundred bucks?" Kenny asked, his eyes lighting up. "That's like... A month's worth of pop tats!"

"Wait, wait, wait..." You interrupted them, raising an eyebrow. "Who in their right mind would pay us twenty hundred dollars to investigate anything? We're not exactly professionals."

"That's where my genius comes in. I told them we're licensed professionals." Cartman smirked.

"Licensed by who? The South Park Department of Bullshit?" Craig asked jokingly.

"Licensed by me, obviously." Cartman shot back.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. "So let me get this straight... You lied to some poor people and convinced them to pay $200 to mess and play around their houses pretending to hunt ghosts?"

"Exactly!" Cartman answered proudly. "And you're welcome."

"Dude, this is going to blow up in our faces." Stan said as he shook his head. "We don't know the first thing about ghost hunting."

"We don't need to." Cartman replied, waving him off. "Ghosts aren't even real. We just have to scare the homeowners enough for them to think that we actually did something."

"That's... Moraly questionable." You mumbled, eyeing him up and down.

"Oh, please, [Y/N], like you've never fucked with the truth to make a quick buck." Cartman rolled his eyes.

"I-I don't know about this..." Tweek, seated beside you, shifted uncomfortably. "What if the house is actually haunted?"

"Ghosts aren't real, Tweek." Craig replied flatly as he rested his arms on the lunch table.

"They're not real until they are..." Tweek mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Okay can we focus on the important part?" Clyde interrupted. "Two hundred dollars is a lot of money. I say we go for it."

"Yeah." Kenny agreed, nodding excitedly. "We could use the cash to upgrade our equipment or something." He muttered hesitantly, a bit heart broken that, most probably, that's what Cartman would want to do with the money.

"What equipment?" Stan asked, raising and eyebrow.

"We'll figure that out later!" Cartman said as he slammed his hands on the table. "All we have to do is show up, act professional and maybe sprinkle some flour to make it look like ghost footprints. Easy money!"

"This is such a bad idea." Kyle groaned.

"Bad idea or not, you're in." Cartman shot back smugly. "Everyone's in."

"I didn't agree to anything." Craig cut in.

"I don't care what you think, Craig." Cartman snapped. "You're coming. And you're driving the van."

Craig flipped him off with the same bored expression on his face.

"What van?" You asked, narrowing your eyes.

"Oh, I've got that covered. Just wait." Cartman's grin widened.

...

As the rest of the group continued to bicker, you couldn't help but notice Tweek fidgeting beside you. His hands toyed with the hem of his shirt, his leg bouncing under the table.

"You okay?" You asked softly, leaning closer to him.

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice but nodded quickly. "Y-Yeah, just... You know, Cartman's plans never end well."

"That's fair." You mumbled, sighing before quickly giving him a small smile. "But hey, at least this one doesn't involve creating an alien beacon that sends signals out, which ends up getting us abducted by aliens and then arrested by the police." You recalled, reminding Tweek of the horrific incident that happened... Not long ago.

The corners of Tweek's lips tugged upwards, forming a shy smile, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "Yeah, I guess. Still, it's a haunted mansion... That's horror movie territory..."

"You're not scared, are you?" You teased lightly.

"N-No! Of course not!" His face turned a faint shade of pink.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you if anything jumps out." You assured him, smirking as you noticed his cheeks growing redder.

‘ He was so cute when he blushed! You could barely contain yourself from kissing him! ’

He laughed nervously, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "T-Thanks..."

Across the table, Clyde wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you. "Aw, look at that! Lovebirds bonding over ghost hunting!"

"Shut up, Clyde." Your smirk faded as you threw your empty carton of milk at him.

"You're just jealous." Cartman cut in smugly. "Not everyone gets to bask in my genius and charm like [Y/N] does."

"Yeah, that's exactly it." You muttered dryly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

...

After much debate and several insults exchanged between Cartman and Kyle, you all hesitantly agreed to the plan.

"Fine!" Stan snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. "We'll do it, but if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you, Cartman."

"Blame me all you want!" Cartman shot back as he smirked. "I'll be too busy counting my $200 to care."

"What do you mean 'my' $200?" Craig asked, his monotone voice cutting through the noise. "Pretty sure we're splitting it evenly."

"Yeah!" You agreed, nodding. "We're all risking our dignity here, so we all get a fair share."

Cartman huffed but didn't argue further. "Whatever. The point is, we've got a job. We're gonna kick some ghost ass!"

.

.

.

.

You all gathered in the school parking lot after the last bell, backpacks thrown over shoulders and various pieces of 'ghost equipment' in a row. Cartman stood in front of a suspiciously beat up white van, grinning ear to ear as if he was about to ask you if you wanted some candy.

"What the hell is that?" Kyle asked, staring at the van with wide eyes as if it would come to life and swallow him whole.

"Our ride." Cartman answered proudly, slapping the side of the van. "Rented it with my mom's credit card!"

"Your mom let you use her credit card?" Stan raised a brow.

"She doesn't know yet." Cartman admitted with a shrug. "But she will when I 'accidentally' leave the receipt on the counter. By then, it'll be too late."

"Classic." Craig muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Dude, we're not getting in that thing." You said, eyeing the van doubtfully. "It looks like it hasn't been cleaned since the 90s. What's with the stain on the side?"

"Ghost residue." Cartman answered without missing a beat.

"Pretty sure that's bird crap." Clyde pointed out as he leaned closer.

"Shut up!" Cartman snapped. "Do you losers want to walk all the way to the DeLacroix mansion? No? Then get in."

"This is so stupid..." Stan sighed.

"Not as stupid as your haircut." Cartman shot back.

"Let's just get this over with." Kenny interrupted as he threw his backpack in the back. "I wanna see if we can actually pull this off."

The rest of you hesitated but eventually climbed into the van one by one. The inside was even worse, barely breathable air, carrying the smell of sweat, and seats covered in mysterious stains that no one wanted to identify.

"It smells like ass." Clyde stuck out his tongue, pinching his nose.

"This is disgusting." You mumbled as you took a seat near the back.

"Disgusting but functional." Cartman replied as he dropped into the driver's seat.

"You're not seriously the one driving, are you?" Kyle asked, eyeing Cartman up and down.

"Uh, yeah, who else is going to drive?"

"Literally anyone else." Craig cut in, raising his hand.

Cartman ignored him as he turned the key, starting the engine, which, by the way, sounded like it would break down any moment.

"Didn't you say Craig was gonna drive?" Clyde, who was seated in the passenger's seat, asked hesitantly.

"Nope. Don't remember ever saying that." Cartman replied, barely moving the van an inch.

.

.

You ended up next to Tweek, who was already fidgeting with the strap of his bag. His eyes scanned the van like he expected a ghost to pop up from the shadows.

"You good?" You asked, leaning slightly toward him.

"Y-Yeah." He nodded quickly, though his jumpy movements suggested otherwise.

"Well at least the van hasn't exploded yet. That's a good sign, right?" You gave him a small smile.

"I guess. But this thing smells like a gym locker." He chuckled, his shoulder relaxing a bit.

"You're not wrong..." You nodded, trying to hold your breath. "Let's just hope the drive isn't too long."

From the front, Cartman banged his fist on the steering wheel. "Can you idiots shut up for five seconds?! I'm trying to focus!"

"You're trying to focus on driving two miles an hour?" Kyle shot back.

"It's called being cautious you fucking bitch!" Cartman defended himself.

"It's called being a terrible driver." Craig muttered, earning a snicker from Kenny.

"Why don't you go flip off a tree or something?" Cartman snapped, glaring at him through the rearview mirror.

Craig responded by slowly raising his middle finger.

.

.

As the van crept out of town and onto the road leading to the DeLacroix mansion, the air began to shift. The sun was slowly lowering on the sky, causing long shadows across the pavement. Trees lined both sides of the road, their branches twisting up in the orange sky as they gently swayed in the wind.

"This road is creepy as hell." Kenny pointed out, gazing out the window.

"Perfect setting for a haunted mansion." Clyde added, his voice touched with nervous excitement.

"Or for us to get murdered." You muttered, making Tweek's grip on his thighs tighten.

"Relax! Nothing's going to happen. Ghosts aren't real, remember?" Cartman replied, though his hold on the steering wheel tightened.

"That's not what you said when you were charging $200." Stan pointed out.

"That's called marketing." Cartman shot back smugly. "You wouldn't understand."

The road hit a bump, making everyone jump out of their places.

"Careful, fatass!" Kyle shouted, grabbing onto Kenny who was beside him, holding onto his shoulder to secure himself in his seat.

"Don't like my walking? Get out and walk you fucking asshole!" Cartman snapped, turning around to glare at you all.

‘ Of course that idiot wasn't wearing a seatbelt... ’

"No one's walking." You spoke up, cutting off the argument before it could escalate. "Let's just focus on getting there in one piece."

Tweek shifted uncomfortably beside you, his knee bouncing nervously. You reached out and gave his arm a light tap, grabbing his attention.

"Hey, we'll be fine." You assured, keeping your tone casual. "Worst case scenario, we get there, find out it's just some creaky floorboards and call it a day."

He nodded slowly, the corners of his lips tugging upwards and forming a shy smile. "Yeah... Yeah, you're probably right."

"Of course I'm right, I'm always right." You smirked, and Tweek was sure you could hear his heartbeat.

"Aw, look at that!" Clyde teased from the front of the van, smirking as he was turned to fully look at you.

‘ Another idiot who didn't wear seatbelts... ’

"Tweek's got a little bodyguard!"

"Keep talking like that and I won't hesitate throwing you out the van." You warned him, your smirk fading away.

"Try it. I'll land on my feet."

"Can we stop fucking flirting and focus?" Cartman snapped, glaring at everyone in the rearview mirror. "We've got a job to do, assholes!"

"You're the only asshole here..." You muttered quietly.

"Maybe that's why it smells like ass." Craig added, earning a snicker from Stan.

.

.

.

.

The van shook along the lonely and bumpy road, the engine groaning with every turn of the wheels. The sun was slowly setting in, the once orange and pink sky darkening.

"Hey, uh... This thing is making weird noise." Stan pointed out.

"That's just the sound of your whining." Cartman shot back, his tone sarcastic.

"No, seriously." You spoke up, trying to glance at Cartman in the rearview mirror. "It's been getting louder for the last mile. Do you even know how to drive this thing?"

"Of course I know how to drive!" Cartman shouted, puffing out his chest. "I'm a naturally born leader. Driving's part of the package, asshole!"

"Leader of what? The loser unit?" Craig snorted.

Before Cartman could fire back and insult him, the van gave a violent shake. Everyone lunged forward as it came to an abrupt stop. The engine faltering as it made loud, roaring sounds before going completely silent.

"You've got to be kidding me." Kyle groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What happened?" Kenny asked as he looked around.

Cartman angrily twisted the key, but the engine only made clicking noises in response. "What the hell?!"

"I think your piece of crap van just died." Clyde pointed the obvious, earning a glare from Cartman.

"Shut up, you don't know anything about cars dumbass!" He yelled, practically shaking aggressively in his seat.

"And you do?" Stan raised an eyebrow, only making Cartman's face grow a darker shade of red from frustration.

"I know more than you!" Cartman shouted, slapping the steering wheel.

...

As you all piled out of the van, the reality of your situation started to sink in. The road stretched endlessly in both directions, and to add to the creepiness, the crickets started chirping as the sun lowered.

"This is bad..." Tweek muttered, clutching his bag tightly. "This is really bad..."

"It's fine." You assured him quickly, although your voice was a bit too loud to be entirely convincing. "We'll just figure it out, no big deal."

"No big deal?! We're stranded in the middle of nowhere! What if something's out there?!" Tweek glanced at you, eyes wide as his whole body trembled.

"There's nothing out there." You placed your hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch. Your gaze flickered nervously toward the dark trees. "Probably just squirrels or something..."

"Squirrels don't make weird noises at night..." He muttered, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep still.

Craig, standing a few feet away, sighed as he interrupted. "Relax. The only dangerous thing out here is Cartman's driving."

"Hey, screw you asshole!" Cartman barked loudly.

Ignoring him, your hand that was on Tweek's shoulder slowly trailed down to his arm, holding it, trying to steady him. "Look, we'll figure it out, okay? We're not gonna be stuck here forever."

"A-Alright... If you say so." Tweek nodded hesitantly, his breathing slowing a little.

For a moment, you felt pride knowing you managed to calm him down a bit. But then the stillness of the road, the sinister silence, the darkening sky... It was starting to creep you out. Before you knew it, the panic you've kept holding in all this time came rushing in.

"What if we are stuck here?" You blurted out quietly, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. "What if no one finds us? What if-"

You felt a hand on your shoulder, the gentle gesture catching you off guard. You almost screamed, but you turned around before you did. You found Craig standing beside you, his usual bored expression replaced with a softer one.

"It's alright." He said simply, his voice low and steady.

You blinked at him, caught off guard.

"You're freaking yourself out." He added, his monotone voice oddly comforting. "It's not helping."

"I know that." You muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Then calm down. We'll figure it out." He shrugged.

Despite his bluntness, his words seemed to make your heart race. You took a deep breath.

.

.

Cartman was pacing back and forth beside the van, muttering under his breath. "This is a disaster! A complete disaster! My mom's gonna get upset!"

"You mean because you stole her credit card?" Kyle asked dryly.

"Shut up you Jew!" Cartman snapped.

Stan kneeled down to check under the van, using one of Cartman's almost out of battery flashlights to light up the underside. "Looks like something's leaking." He pointed out, frowning.

"Oil?" Kenny asked, crouching beside him.

"Maybe. I'm not a mechanic."

"Well does anyone know how to fix it?" Clyde questioned, looking around hopefully.

You all glanced at each other, standing in complete silence other than the chirping crickets.

"Nope." Craig answered bluntly.

"Great." Kyle muttered, running a hand down his face. "Just great."

...

With no immediate solution, you all settled into an uneasy silence. Cartman sulked by the driver's door, muttering about how unfair the universe was. Stan and Kyle debated whether they should try to call for help, although they doubted anyone would come this far out. Tweek leaned on a rock near the edge of the road, his knee bouncing nervously.

You sat down beside him, staring at the van and the rest of the group, who were arguing like crazy. You still felt a little nervous, despite Craig's attempt at calming you down earlier. "How you holding up?" You asked.

"Better." Tweek admitted, though his voice was still shaky. "But this sucks."

"Yeah... It really does." You agreed.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, watching the sky change from orange and pink to a depressing gray. Despite your situation, there was something oddly peaceful about the quiet.

"Thanks for earlier." Tweek mumbled suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

"For what?" You glanced at him, surprised.

"For, you know... Helping me calm down." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "That was pretty nice of you..."

You felt your cheeks warm up, but you quickly brushed it off. "Well, you've got my back too, right?"

Tweek smiled, the corners of his mouth twisting up in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "Yeah. Always."

.

.

You all gathered around the front of the van, flashlights in hand. The hood was popped open, revealing the engine that looked like it hasn't been properly maintained in decades.

Stan squinted at the mess, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, so... What exactly are we looking at here?"

"An engine." Craig replied, arms crossed.

"Yeah, thanks, genius." Kyle muttered, rolling his eyes. He leaned closer, frowning at the faint puddle forming beneath the van. "Something's definitely leaking."

"Maybe it's ghost juice." Cartman suggested, snickering at his own joke.

"No one asked you." Kyle snapped, shining his flashlight on the engine.

You sighed, leaning against the side of the van. "So... Does anyone actually know what they're doing?"

Everyone exchanged awkward glances, shrugging at each other.

"Not a clue." Clyde admitted.

"Fantastic." You muttered, your palm coming in contact with your forehead.

"I've seen my dad fix stuff like this before." Stan spoke up, though his tone wasn't exactly confident. "But we need tools."

"Tools?!" Cartman exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "What do you think this is, a Home Depot?! Where are we supposed to get tools in the middle of nowhere?!"

...

"So, what's the plan?" Clyde asked, leaning against the van.

"Plan?" Cartman scoffed. "The plan is you idiots fix the van while I supervise."

"Yeah, that's not happening." Kyle dismissed flatly.

"Wait..." Tweek spoke up, his voice slightly hesitant. "Does anyone have duct tape?"

You turned to him, furrowing your brows together. "What for?"

"Well..." He started, shifting nervously under everyone's gaze. "If it's just a leak, maybe we can patch it up enough to get moving again?"

"That... Actually might work." Stan nodded slowly.

"Great idea!" You praised, smiling at him.

Tweek blinked, his face turning a faint shade of pink. "Uh, thanks..."

"Fine. Who's got tape?" Cartman groaned.

...

After a bit of rummaging, you all managed to find duct tape in Kenny's backpack. You wouldn't dare ask why he had that on him, and it would be better if you didn't.

"This is ridiculous." Craig muttered, watching as Stan and Kyle debated the best way to 'fix' the leak.

"Do you have a better idea?" You asked, raising a brow.

"No. But this still feels stupid." He shrugged.

"Stupid or not, it's all we've got." Stan interrupted, crouching beside the van. "Alright, someone hand me the tape."

Kenny passed the roll as the rest of you watched Stan carefully tape over the leaking spot. "This should hold for a little while. Hopefully."

"Hopefully?!" Cartman exclaimed. "That's the best you've got?!"

"Unless you want to get under there and fix it yourself, yes." Stan shot back.

As Stan finished his makeshift repair, you leaned back against the van, glancing at Tweek. "I didn't expect you to figure out a solution."

"What do you mean?" Tweek tilted his head to the side, confused.

"I mean, that was a pretty great idea. You're full of surprises, huh?" You smiled, nodding towards the engine.

"I just... Didn't want to be stuck here all night." He replied nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Well, great job." You muttered.

Tweek chuckled, his usual nervousness temporarily forgotten. "Thanks."

"Alright!" Cartman shouted, clapping his hands. "Is this thing fixed or what?"

"Fixed enough." Stan replied, standing up and dusting off his hands. "But we should probably get moving before it gives out again."

"Great." Cartman said, already climbing into the driver's seat. "Get in, assholes!"

...

You all piled back in the van, the air still tense but slightly more hopeful. The engine came to life as the van moved forward, resuming its journey down the dark, lonely road.

"See? I told you we'd fix it." Cartman bragged, a smug grin on his face.

"You didn't do anything." Kyle pointed out.

"I supervised." Cartman shot back. "That's the most important part of any operation." His words earned a middle finger from Craig, which he of course, didn't ignore.

.

.

.

.

The van came to a stop just outside the towering DeLacroix mansion, and the sight alone was enough to make everyone fall silent. The place looked like it had been ripped straight out of a gothic horror movie. The iron gates creaked as they swung inward, revealing a front lawn with trimmed edges and a path of cobblestone leading to the massive double doors of the mansion. It looked and sounded like hell. No, seriously. The hinges of the gates screeched like tortured souls.

"Wow. They weren't kidding when they said they were loaded." Stan let out a low whistle.

Craig crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Looks like something out of a vampire movie. I'm expecting Dracula to pop up any second."

"This house is awesome!" Kenny beamed, his face lighting up. "It's like something out of those haunted mansion tours!"

"Yeah, well, it's probably just a glorified dust trap." Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets. "Rich people are weird..."

Cartman turned to glare at Kyle, pointing his thumb toward the mansion. "Rich people are our clients you fucking asshole! Now shut the fuck up and try not to embarrass me."

"Embarrass you?" Kyle snorted. "That's rich coming from the guy who got us abducted by aliens yet they still sent us back to Earth because of you."

"Okay now you're pushing it!" Cartman interrupted. "Face it, you're embarrassing all of us."

"Fuck you, fatass!"

Cartman ignored him, puffing out his chest and leading the group up the cobblestone path as if he was the CEO of some multimillion dollar ghost hunting operation.

Before anyone could knock, the heavy front doors creaked open as an elderly woman stepped out onto the grand porch. She was dressed elegantly in a deep emerald gown, her pearl necklace glinting in the fading sunlight. Her husband followed close behind. His tailored suit looked expensive, and his sharp features carried the kind of sterness that could make anyone feel like a misbehaving child.

The woman's eyes scanned you all, her expression both relieved and suspicious. "Oh, thank goodness you're here!" She exclaimed, her voice trembling as she hurried down the steps. "You have no idea how much time we have been waiting for a certain individual to assist us!"

The old man, however, was less excited. He frowned, scanning the group. "You're the ghost hunters?" He asked, his tone doubtful as he eyed you all. "You all look... Very young."

"Thanks, I moisturize." Craig spoke up.

Cartman stepped forward, giving Craig a glare before plastering a fake smile onto his face. "Youthfulness is what makes us the best in business." He replied, his tone was supposed to sound professional, but came off more like a used car salesman.

The old man remained unconvinced, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for a hidden adult supervisor. "Are you even qualified for this?"

"Qualified?" Cartman repeated, placing a hand on his chest as if he was personally offended. "Sir, we're professionals. We've been in the business for years! Licensed, insured, you name it!"

"Insured against what? Getting caught in your lies?" Kyle muttered under his breath.

Cartman shot him a warning glare before turning back to the couple. "Now, why don't you tell us exactly what's going on, and we're gonna take care of it faster than you can say 'check, please'!"

The woman squeezed her own hands, glancing nervously at her husband before speaking. "It's been terrible. Absolutely terrible. Every night, we hear whispers in the halls. Sometimes it's a woman singing... So soft and yet so haunting... It feels like it's coming from nowhere and everywhere at once."

"And the doors." The old man added, adjusting his tie. "They slam shut on their own. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes when we're standing right there. It's like we're not welcome in our own home."

"Maybe it's just bad hinges or the wind?" Keny tilted his head to the side.

The woman shot him a sharp look. "Does the wind whisper your name?"

"Depends on how much I've had to drink." Kenny muttered, earning a snicker from Craig.

The man's frown deepened. "This isn't a joke. Whatever is in that house... It isn't natural. And it's just getting worse."

"Don't worry, sir, ma'am." Cartman stepped forward with false confidence. "You called the right team. We've handled cases way scarier than this."

"Name one." Kyle challenged, crossing his arms.

Cartman ignored him, turning his attention back to the couple. "Now, let's talk about payment. We'll need half upfront for, uh, operational costs."

The woman's brows furrowed together. "Operational costs?"

"Yeah." Cartman replied smoothly. "You know, equipment, transportation, ghost insurance..."

"Ghost insurance?" The old man repeated, raising one of his bushy eyebrows.

"It's standard practice." Cartman said, waving off their confusion. "Ghost hunting is dangerous work. There's always a risk of possession, attacks, or ectoplasmic goo. We can't exactly do this for free, can we?"

"Oh my God Cartman, stop scamming people." Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Scamming people?" Cartman repeated, acting offended. Technically, he was. "This is a legitimate business transaction. Now, if you're done interrupting, let the professionals handle this."

The woman sighed, clearly too exhausted to argue. She reached into her purse, pulling out a checkbook. "Fine. You'll get $100 now and the rest when the job is done."

"Pleasure doing business with you." Cartman smirked, snatching the check before anyone else could.

The man gestured toward the house, his expression grumpy. "Do whatever you need to. Just get rid of it."

Cartman turned to the rest of you, clapping his hands together. "Alright assholes, you heard the man! Gear up and get to work!"

Craig rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to flip Cartman off. "I'm only doing this because I need the money."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Cartman waved him off. "Now let's get moving! Time is money!"

As you all started gathering your 'equipment', you exchanged a glance with Tweek, who was fidgeting nervously.

"Come on, I'm sure it's fine." You cut through the silence, making Tweek flinch.

"Y-Yeah, I'm sure it's alright... But this place gives me goosebumps..." He replied, his voice shaky as his eyes darted everywhere.

"We can use Cartman as a shield." You shrugged, looking over your shoulder to see Cartman shouting at everyone.

Tweek chuckled, his shoulder relaxing a bit. "I-If it's an actual ghost, I'm running back to the van and leaving without the rest of you."

"You're leaving me behind?" You raised your brows, gasping dramatically.

"I'll take you with me." Tweek shrugged, the corners of his lips tugging upwards and forming a shy smile.

You could feel your pulse quickening, but you chose to ignore the feeling and hurry up, since Cartman was already fuming.

...

The old woman held the door open as you all stumbled inside, the creak of the heavy wooden door echoing around the mansion. The interior of the DeLacroix mansion was just as massive as the exterior, if not more so. A huge chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its crystals catching the light from the several candles on numerous shelves. The walls were lined with dark wood, and a thick red rug stretched across the polished floor. Everything about the place screamed wealth, but there was something... Off about it.

You couldn't put your finger on it. Maybe it was the faint mouldy smell, or the way the shadows seemed to stretch a little too far.

"Well..." The old woman started, folding her hands in front of her. "We'll let you get to it. My husband and I will be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Tea." The old man added, narrowing his eyes as they scanned over the group once more. "We'll be making tea. And don't think for a second we won't notice if something goes missing."

"Sir." Cartman started, putting a hand to his chest. "I'll have you know that we run a very professional operation. Stealing? That's beneath us."

"Uh-huh." The old man replied, his tone still doubtful as he ran his eyes across you all with a suspicious look. He turned to his wife. "Come on, let's leave them to it before I change my mind."

As the couple disappeared down the hall, Cartman turned back to you all, his fake professional demeanor dropping in an instant. "Alright, listen up fuckers. Rule number one, nobody wanders off alone. Got it?"

"What are we, five?" Craig raised an eyebrow.

"No!" Cartman snapped. "But you all have the attention span of toddlers, and I'm not gonna lose my $200 payday because one of you morons gets lost or spooked and runs screaming out the door."

"Oh, please. Nobody here actually believes in ghosts. Right?" Kyle crossed his arms.

"I don't know, dude. Places like these always have weird vibes." Kenny shrugged.

Tweek shivered, glancing around nervously. "I mean... It's just a house, right? A really big, creepy, probably haunted house, but still... Just a house."

"Exactly." You cut in, offering him a reassuring look. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Before anyone could respond, a loud SLAM echoed through the mansion. The sound came from the second floor, sharp and intentional, like someone had thrown a door shut with all their strength.

Everyone froze, exchanging uneasy glances.

"Uh... What was that?" Stan asked, his voice low.

Cartman let out a nervous laugh. "Probably the wind. Or, you know, old houses make weird noises all the time!"

"Yeah, sure." Kyle muttered. "Because the wind totally sounds like a fucking door being slammed shut."

"Great plan, genius." Craig interrupted, looking at Cartman. "Let's all just split up already and investigate the creepy murder mansion."

"We're not splitting up!" Cartman snapped. "Were you not listening five seconds ago? We stick together and do this room by room. Now shut up and follow my lead."

"Your lead?" Kyle scoffed. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

"Would you just shut your damn Jew mouth and grab your flashlight?" Cartman shot back, ready stomping toward the huge staircase.

As the rest of you followed, the harsh silence of the mansion seemed to press in from all sides. The only sounds were the creak of the floorboard beneath your feet and the occasional drip of water from God knows where.

You glanced at Tweek, who was clutching his flashlight as if his life depended on it. "You look scared. Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" He replied, his voice toi high pitched to be convincing. "Totally fine. Just, uh... Keeping an eye out for... Y-You know, ghost stuff..."

"You sound just like Cartman." You pointed out, which made Tweek shoot you a glare.

"Don't compare me to that fatass." He mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't." You shrugged, continuing to step beside him.

Tweek's eyes darted around, examining the place. "That slam... It was definitely the wind..." His hands trembled as his grip tightened on his flashlight.

You couldn't help but smile at his attempt to convince himself. "Right. The wind. Because the wind definitely has the power to slam a door with enough force to rattle the whole house."

Tweek groaned, running a hand through his hair and fighting the urge to pull on it. "Okay, fine, i-it was weird. But it's probably nothing. Probably..."

"Exactly." You agreed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No need to panic. Not yet, anyway."

As you reached the top of the stairs, Cartman stopped abruptly, causing everyone to nearly collide into each other.

"Alright." Cartman started, pointing toward the hallway ahead. "Here's the plan, we check each room, starting from the left, and work our way down. Got it?"

"Who died and made you boss?" Stan muttered.

"My superior intellect did!" Cartman shot back. "Now shut up and start looking."

The first few rooms were uneventful. A guest bedroom with dusty furniture, a study filled with old books and strange ornaments and a bathroom with a cracked mirror. Everything looked like it hadn't been touched in years, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"See?" Kyle said as he gestured to the very normal surroundings. "Nothing spooky. Just a big, creepy old house."

"Yeah, because ghosts totally introduce themselves on the first time." Kenny teased.

As you passed what appeared to be another bedroom, something on the nightstand caught your eye. It was a small, golden music box. You almost entered the room, sitting right by the door. You wanted to reach out and touch it, but before you could even fully step inside, Cartman's voice cut through.

"Don't touch anything!" He barked, making you jump.

"What? Why not?" You questioned, turning to glare at him, stepping away from the door.

"Because." He started, puffing out his chest. "This is a delicate operation. We can't have you breaking stuff and getting us kicked out before we get paid."

"Or..." Craig interrupted. "Maybe he's just scared you'll unleash a ghost or something."

"Shut up, crooked teeth!" Cartman shot him a dirty look.

"I had braces you fucking fatass." Craig shouted, yet somehow his voice was still monotone.

"Well maybe you should consider getting them again!"

Before anyone could argue further, another door slammed somewhere in the house, but this time it was much closer.

"Okay, that's it!" Tweek spoke up, his voice shaking. "I don't care i-if it's the wind or a fucking ghost, I-I don't like this!"

"Relax." You replied, trying to sound calm even if your pulse quickened. "It's probably just... I don't know, the house settling or something."

"Sure." Kyle interrupted sarcastically. "Because houses totally 'settle' by slamming door randomly."

Cartman turned to the group, his face slightly pale but his voice firm. "Alright, new rule, nobody touches anything unless I say so. Got it?"

"Just lead us to the next boring room so we can get this over with." Craig rolled his eyes.

As Cartman reluctantly led the group out of the bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you.

.

.

You all stood in the barely lit hallway of the second floor, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and dust. The mansion's silence was brutal, broken only by the faint creaks and groans of the house settling. Several doors lined the hall, their chipped paint adding to the unsettling vibe.

Cartman pointed to the nearest door, puffing out his chest like he was a drill sergeant. "Alright pussies, we're hitting this room next. Be ready for anything."

"Yeah, like the world's most haunted dust collection. Can we just get this over with?" Kyle sighed, crossing his arms.

"Don't be such a fucking buzz kill!" Cartman snapped. "This is serious business."

Before anyone could respond, a faint whispering sound drifted through the hallway.

"D-Do you guys h-hear that...?" Tweek asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted around, his grip tightened on his flashlight.

"Stop messing around." Kyle glared at Cartman, his tome stern. "It's obviously you trying to scare everyone."

"Me?!" Cartman yelled out, clearly offended. "I'm not wasting my energy on scaring you losers. I've got $200 on the line here!"

The whispering grew louder, clearer nos, although the words were impossible to make out. It was like a dozen voices overlapping, murmuring in a language none of them recognized.

"Okay, who's doing that?" Stan asked, his voice shaky. He glanced over his shoulder, his flashlight beam darting across the empty hallway.

"It's not me." Kenny said as he stepped closer to the rest of you. "That's creepy as hell..."

"Very funny, Cartman." Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice sounding irritated. "You can cut it out now."

"For the last time, it's not me!" Cartman practically hissed.

The whispering came to a sudden stop, leaving a sinister silence in its place.

"See?" Craig broke the silence flatly, flipping Cartman off. "This is why I don't do this stupid ghost hunting crap. It's always the handsome guy who gets killed first in horror movies."

"Oh, please." Clyde interrupted, his voice slightly trembling. "If anyone's dying first, it's probably me. I'm the perfect victim for a true crime documentary."

"Shut up, Clyde!" Cartman shouted, but his voice sounded nervous.

Before anyone could laugh or argue, the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.

"Holy shit!" Tweek yelped, grabbing onto your arm.

"What the hell just happened?" Kyle asked, his voice tense.

The hallway was swallowed by darkness, the only source of light coming from the faint beam of your flashlights. Then came the sound of floorboards creaking, slow and careful, as if someone or something was walking toward you.

"Who's there?" Stan called out, his voice cracking.

No one answered, but the sound grew louder and closer. Then, soft singing began to echo through the hallway.

It was a woman's voice, melodic and haunting, the kind of sound that made your stomach drop and skin crawl. The song was low, the words incoherent but the tone sorrowful.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..." Tweek muttered under his breath, his nails digging into your arm.

You tried to say something reassuring, but the words stuck in your throat. Your flashlight beam darted around the hallway, revealing nothing but empty space.

"This... Isn't funny." Kenny spoke up, his usual tone replaced by genuine fear.

"Okay, everyone stay calm." Cartman said, trying to sound reassuring and professional but failing miserably. "It's just... It's probably just... Uh..."

"Yeah, fatass." Kyle snapped. "What's your brilliant explanation for this one?"

Before Cartman could answer, the singing stopped as suddenly as if had started, and the lights flickered back on.

You all stood frozen, your breaths coming out in short, shaky gasps.

"What the actual hell was that?" Stan asked, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll tell you what it was." Cartman straightened up, trying to regain his composure. "It was nothing. You guys are just freaking yourselves out for no reason."

"Nothing?" Kyle repeated, his eyes wide. "The lights went out, we heard footsteps and singing, and you're calling that nothing?"

"Yeah." Cartman nodded, crossing his arms. "Because ghosts aren't real. And even if they were, they're not screwing up my $200 payday. So, suck it up and get back to work!"

"Screw this." Craig cut in sharply, turning toward the stairs. "I'm out. I've seen enough movies to know where this is going, and I'm not sticking around to be ghost bait."

"Oh, great idea, Craig." Cartman scowled. "Run off and leave the rest of us to deal with it."

"You're acting like I care." Craig replied, flipping Cartman off again. "Have fun getting haunted."

"Wait for me!" Clyde rushed by Craig's side. "I am not dying in some cursed mansion. Do you know how many unsolved mystery podcasts start like this?"

"Come on, we can't just bail. We don't even know what's going on yet." You tried to convince them, voice shaky. If you were honest, you were only doing that so you could push them into whatever's chasing you, just to buy you time.

"Exactly!" Cartman pointed at you. "Finally, someone with some common sense!"

Tweek glanced at you, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really think we should stay?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, even if you weren't entirely sure yourself.

‘ They can probably run faster than you... At least there's Cartman. ’

"We've come this far. We might as well see it through." You shrugged, hoping they'd listen.

Stan sighed, his eyes narrowing. "Fine. But if another light goes out, I'm seriously done."

Kyle gave you a long look, his expression unreadable. "You sure about this?"

No, you weren't sure. Not at all. But you forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Let's keep going."

Cartman clapped his hands together, a fake grin plastered on his face. "See? Teamwork makes the dream work! Now let's move it assholes!"

As you all reluctantly followed Cartman further down the hallway, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you.

And whatever it was, it didn't feel friendly.

.

.

You all lazily stood in the hallway for a moment longer, still shook after the sinister singing and flickering lights. The harsh silence of the house pressed down on you, and even Cartman's usual ramble seemed muted.

Stan broke the silence with a half hearted chuckle. "Okay, seriously, what kind of ghost sings? Is this like... Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yeah, maybe she's just auditioning for Broadway." Kenny snorted.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Yeah, laugh it up, you pussies. Meanwhile, I'm trying to stay professional so we can get paid."

"Professional?" Craig repeated, his monotone voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've been sweating like shit and yelling at everyone since we got here."

"Shut the fuck up!" Cartman snapped. "Not everyone can be a soulless robot like you!"

Craig gave him the middle finger without even looking, his gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling. "Whatever."

Tweek tugged at the collar of his shirt, his shoulders tense. "Can we just move on? Standing in the hallway is making my skin crawl."

"Yeah." You agreed, glancing toward one of the nearby bedroom doors. "Let's check that one out. Maybe we'll find something useful."

"Or maybe we'll find more dust and spiders." Kyle muttered, though he followed you toward the door.

You all walked into the room cautiously, you flashlights darting across the space. It was a large bedroom, clearly once belonging to someone with expensive taste. The bed was massive, covered in faded sheets, the walls lined with mirrors. A heavy wardrobe stood in one corner, its doors slightly opened, a layer of dust coating every surface.

"This is... Creepy." Kenny whispered, shining his light on one of the dusty mirrors.

"Yeah, no thanks." Stan added. "This place screams tetanus."

Clyde, who has been quiet all this time, suddenly let out a blood curdling scream.

"What?!" Cartman shouted, spinning around.

"There's something on me! There's something on me!" Clyde screeched, flailing his arms wildly.

A large spider crawled up his sleeve, its legs moving across the fabric. Clyde's face went pale as he bolted across the room, swatting at himself like he was actually possessed.

"Get it off! Get it off!" He cried out.

"Dude, stop moving!" Stan yelled, trying to grab his arm.

"Hold still, idiot!" You added, but Clyde wasn't listening.

He stumbled into the wardrobe, rattling it loudly and sending a cloud of dust into the air. The spider, unfazed by the commotion, crawled onto Clyde's shoulder.

"Oh my God, it's still there!" Clyde whined, spinning in circles.

Kenny stepped forward, holding his flashlight like a weapon. "Calm down, I'll get it!"

Before anyone could do anything else, Clyde smacked his own shoulder with enough force to knock the spider to the ground. It ran away quickly, disappearing under the bed.

"There!" Clyde gasped, attempting to calm himself down as he clutched his chest. "It's gone! It's gone!"

"You're such a baby." Cartman smirked. "It was just a spider."

"Yeah, well I didn't see you rushing to help." Clyde shot back, his face still pale.

"Wait." You interrupted, pointing toward the door. "Did anyone else hear that?"

The room fell silent, everyone going quiet to listen. The it came, a faint creak, followed by the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut.

"Holy shit!" Tweek yelped, his eyes wide.

Kenny ran to the door, twisting the knob. "It's not locked." He let out a breath of relief. "But what the hell shut it?"

"Maybe the wind?" Stan sugested, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Yeah, definitely." Craig rolled his eyes, leaning on the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets. "The wind. In a house with no open windows. Makes total sense."

"Okay Mr. Unfazed, then what's your brilliant explanation?" Cartman snapped.

"Ghosts." Craig answered flatly. "Obviously."

"Ghosts aren't real." Kyle sighed, knowing damn well that he was just trying to calm himself down. "We've been over this."

"Then why are you sweating?" Craig shot back, a rare smirk on his face.

Kyle glared at him, but didn't respond.

"Can we please just investigate and get out of here?" You spoke up, breaking the tension.

The group hesitantly agreed, spreading around to search the room. Cartman stayed near the door, muttering to himself about 'stupid amateurs ruining his paycheck', while the rest of you examined the furniture and walls.

As you ran your flashlight along the far wall, you heard a faint knocking sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

"Did you guys hear that?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hear what?" Stan asked, looking up from the dresser he was investigating.

The knocking came again, this time louder.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"It's coming from the next room." Tweek noted, his voice trembling.

"Great." Clyde muttered. "More creepy noises. Just what we needed..."

Then, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of singing.

It was the same voice from before, soft and melodic, the kind of sound that made you shiver.

"Okay, nope." Clyde shook his head, backing toward the door. "I'm officially done. Screw this!"

"You're not leaving!" Cartman snapped, blocking the exit. "I don't care how scared you are. We're staying until we figure this out."

"Easy for you to say." Stan muttered. "You get to stay far away from the sound. You're not the one who has to listen to this creepy ass singing!"

You all fell silent again, the singing growing louder. It seemed to echo through the walls, wrapping around you like a cold but invisible hand.

"Alright..." Kyle broke the silence, his shoulders tense. "Let's just finish checking this room and move on. The faster we're done, the faster we can leave."

You nodded, though your hands were shaking slightly. You continued your search, but the tension in the room was evident and uneasy, every creak and whisper sending chills down your spine.

The hallway leading to the next room seemed suspiciously quiet, almost as of the house itself was holding its breath. You all hesitated in front of the door, your flashlights waving around.

"This is the last door on this side." You broke the silence. "Let's get this over with."

Cartman groaned, stepping forward with exaggerated confidence. "Step aside, amateurs. Watch the professional work."

He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but the door didn't budge. "What the hell?" He grunted, twisting it harder. "It's stuck!"

"Maybe it's locked." Stan suggested, leaning closer.

"It's not locked!" Cartman snapped. "It's just being a piece of shit!"

"Let me try." Kenny offered, stepping forward. Together, the two of them pushed and pulled on the door, but it refused to give.

"Move." Craig warned, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He gave the door a single hard kick, and with a loud creak, it swung open, revealing a barely lit room.

"Damn." You whispered, biting your bottom lip for a quick second as Craig just raised an eyebrow at you.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side." Clyde muttered.

Craig shrugged, his flashlight scanning the room. "You'd have to actually interest me for that to happen."

The rest of you stepped inside cautiously, your flashlights lighting up the room, revealing dust covered furniture and faded wallpaper. The room was large but cluttered, with a table, a tall wardrobe, and a canopy bed draped in pretty curtains. What caught everyone's attention, however, were the framed photos scattered across the room.

"Whoa..." You whispered, picking one of the many pictures up from a shelf. The photo was black and white, the edges yellowed with age.

The woman in the picture looked elegant, her hazel eyes shining even through the faded photograph. A small mole under her left eye added a touch of uniqueness to her already stunning features, and her smile was warm and inviting.

"Is that her?" Tweek asked, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look. "The ghost?"

"Probably." Kyle shrugged, picking up another photo from another shelf. "She looks... Different than what I expected."

"Yeah." Stan agreed. "Not your typical creely ghost lady."

"Don't let the pictures fool you." Kenny informed, smirking. "The nice ones are always the scariest."

Cartman snorted, shoving past everyone to examine the photos himself. "You bitches are so easily impressed. It's just a bunch of old pictures. Big deal."

As if on cue, a soft melody began playing from the corner of the room. Everyone froze in their spot.

"What the hell is that?" Clyde whispered, his voice trembling.

You turned toward the source of the sound, your flashlight landing on a small, golden box sitting on the nightstand. The same one you so badly wanted to touch earlier. Its lid was open, revealing a delicate ballerina figure spinning slowly to the tune.

"Nope." You sighed immediately, shaking your head. "I am not doing this."

Before anyone could stop you, you marched over to the music box and snapped the lid shut. The melody stopped abruptly, leaving the room silent.

"[Y/N]..." Kyle started, his tone cautious and soft. "Maybe you shouldn't-"

The lights went out.

A harmonized gasp filled the room, followed by the sound of stumbling feet and hurried whispers.

"Who turned off the lights?" Cartman demanded, his voice high pitched with panic.

"No one!" Stan hissed. "Just stay calm-"

A blood curdling scream tore through the darkness, so loud and piercing that it felt like it was coming from inside your own head.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Clyde screamed, practically climbing onto Kenny for protection.

The floorboard beneath you groaned, the heavy and slow footsteps closer. Then came the banging, loud, frantic and relentless, echoing through and off the walls as if the entire house was alive.

"Get me out of here!" Tweek shouted, his voice cracking as he clung to the nearest person, which happened to be you.

"I can't see anything!" Kyle yelled, his flashlight flickering wildly in his hands.

"Move bitches, move your fucking asses!" Cartman screamed, his usual confidence and braveness completely gone.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the chaos stopped. The lights flickered back on as everyone stood frozen, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"Is everyone okay?" Stan asked, his voice shaking.

"I think so..." You mumbled, your hands trembling. "But what the hell was that?"

"Uh... Guys..." Kenny trailed off, his voice unusually serious. "Look at the mirrors."

You turned slowly, your heart thumping in your chest as you took in the sight. Every mirror in the room was cracked, crazy and uneven lines scattered across their surface.

And then you saw her.

She stood near the music box, her once beautiful face twisted into an expression of pure rage. Her white dress was stained with dirt, her hair a tangled mess that hung over her milky white eyes. The pearl necklace from the photos was now dangling loosely around her neck, cracked in several places.

No one spoke. No one even dared to move.

The ghost's gaze scanned over each one of you, her presence suffocating and cold.

"Oh shit..." Clyde whispered, his voice barely audible.

Cartman, of all people, was the fist to completely break the silence. He pointed an accusing finger at you.

"[Y/N], you dumb bitch!" He shouted. "I told you not to touch anything!"

...

Cartman took a cautious step forward, his flashlight flickering as he raised it toward her ghostly figure. His confidence was shaky at best, but he puffed out his chest in a pitiful attempt to seem in control.

"Alright, listen up, you decrepit old hag!" He barked, his voice cracking slightly. "I don't know who you are, but you're messing with licensed professionals here!"

She didn't react, her sinsiter and unblinking gaze fixed on them.

"Cartman, shut up!" Kyle hissed, gripping his flashlight tightly.

"No, no, I've got this!" Cartman insisted, waving a hand dismissively. He turned back to the ghost, narrowing his eyes. "You think you're scary? I've seen scarier things come out of Kenny's microwave! You look like you crawled out of a sewer and then got hit by a truck! What are you, part of the teenage mutant turtles?!"

The lights flickered violently, the room growing colder and more suffocating with each passing second. The ghost's head tilted slightly, her form trembling as if she was barely holding back her anger.

"Dude, stop!" Stan warned, his voice tense.

But Cartman was on a roll. "Oh, what's the matter? Did your ugly little music box break? Is that why you're so pissed off? Newsflash lady, nobody even uses music boxes anymore. Get with the times!"

As he spat out insult after insult, you noticed something. The ghost wasn't moving closer to Cartman despite her obvious anger. Instead, her transparent form seemed to stand close to the music box sitting on the nightstand.

"Wait..." Stan muttered under his breath, his brows furrowed together. "It's the music box, she's guarding it!"

You blinked, glancing between Stan and the ghost. "You think that's what's keeping her there?"

"She's not moving away from the music box, no matter how much Cartman screams at her." Stan whispered. "It has to mean something..."

"Cartman, keep her distracted!" Stan suddenly called out, his mind racing as he pieced together a plan.

Cartman turned, looking both insulted and confused. "Distracted? I'm trying to banish her, dipshit! Do you know how much skill that takes?!"

"Just do it!" Stan snapped.

Cartman huffed but turned back to the ghost. "Oh, so now you're just gonna stare at me like some creepy doll? You think that's intimidating? I've seen scarier things in the mirror every morning! Wait, that doesn't sound right..."

While Cartman continued judging her, Stan crept toward the music box, moving as quietly as he could. The rest of you held your breath, your eyes darting between Stan and the ghost. Her gaze remained locked on Cartman, though her form flickered as if sensing Stand presence near the box.

"Just grab it already!" Clyde whispered harshly.

Stan's hands shook as he reached for the music box. His fingers barely grazed the lid when all of the sudden the ghost's head snapped toward him, her milky white eyes narrowing.

"Shit." Stan gasped, making eye contact with the ghost as he froze completely. "Run!" He shouted, yanking the music box off the nightstand.

The ghost let out another blood curdling scream, the sound so loud and piercing it felt like it was drilling into your skull. The lights flickered wildly, sending the room into bursts of darkness and light.

"Move, bitch!" You yelled, grabbing Clyde's arm and shoving him toward the door.

You all bolted out of the room in a frantic scramble, tripping over each other as you sprinted down the hallway. The walls seemed to shake with the ghost's rage, her screams echoing behind you.

"She's following us!" Tweek cried out, his voice trembling as he clung to you arm.

"Don't look back!" Stan yelled, clutching the music box tightly as he led the rest of you down the stairs.

You all rushed into the hall, nearly knocking over a decorative vase. The kitchen door creaked open slightly, and for a split second, you caught a glimpse of the old couple sipping tea at the table, unaware of the chaos unfolding just a few feet away.

"We're gonna die, and they're drinking fucking tea!" Clyde whined, almost tripping over the rug.

"Shut up and keep running!" Kyle snapped, shoving him toward the front doors.

You all burst into the garden, the cool night air hitting your face like a splash of water. Your eyes darted around wildly, taking in the small graveyard sat at the edge of the property.

"Her grave!" Stan panted, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. "We need to find her grave!"

The rest of you stared at the rows of headstones, the glow of the moon softly shining on them.

"There's too many of them!" Clyde cried. "We don't even know her name! How are we supposed to-"

"There!" Stan pointed to a headstone near the center, the name 'Mary DeLacroix' carved into the stone. "I saw her name on an open notebook, on the table [Y/N] found the first photo! At least I think that's her!" He panted, barely breathing.

He took a step forward but hesitated, his hands shaking as he held out the music box.

"I can't do it..." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I'll mess it up!"

Stan didn't think, he just threw the music box into your arms. There wasn't much you could say, especially because of the state you were in. You quickly bolted toward Mary's grave.

"Wait, you can't just-" Tweek shouted after you, panicking as he saw you complying instead of throwing the music box into someone else's hands.

The tiny metal gate surrounding the graveyard clattered as you jumped over it, the music box clutched tightly in your hands. Behind you, Mary's screams grew louder, her ghostly form tearing through the garden.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached her grave, nearly tripping over your own feet. Dropping to your knees, you placed the music box gently on top of the headstone, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Please work..." You whispered, your voice trembling. "If it doesn't, I swear I'll posses Stan and jump off a bridge..."

You turned around, seeing Mary's form exactly in front of you, inches away from you, her once beautiful face twisted with rage. Her hands were raised as if she was about to strike, but the miment her eyes landed on the music box, she froze. You swore you've seen this sight in a FNAF game before.

The air around you grew still, the harsh weight of her presence lifting slightly. Mary's angry expression softened, her ghostly form flickering as she reached out toward the music box.

Her fingers grazed it lightly. "Thank you..." She whispered, her voice barely audible.

Before you could respond, her form began to disintegrate, her body breaking apart into specks of light that drifted upward like fireflies. The garden grew silent once more, the only sound being the rustling leaves in the night breeze.

Your shoulders relaxed a bit, still sitting down on the grass, your hands trembling as you tried to catch your breath.

The rest of the group rushed over, their faces a mix of relief and awe.

"Holy shit!" Kyle panted, helping you to your feet. "You actually did it!"

"Damn right she did." Kenny teased, smacking you on the back playfully.

"Nice work..." Tweek added, giving you a shy smile.

Cartman, of course, had to ruin the moment. "Yeah, yeah, great job [Y/N]. But let's not forget who kept that bitch distracted in the first place. If it weren't for me, you'd all be dead!"

Craig flipped him off. "You're welcome, fatass."

Clyde let out a shaky laugh, his hands still trembling. "We're never doing this again, right? Right?"

"Don't bet on it." Kyle muttered, glancing back at the house as he kept his hand on your shoulder.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to relax, a small smile tugging at your lips. Mary was gone, and for now, you were safe.

...

You all walked back to the mansion, adrenaline slowly giving away to exhaustion. Tweek clung to you, his eyes darting around nervousness as if expecting Mary to reappear at any moment.

"Holy shit..." Clyde muttered, breaking the silence. "We just... Banished a ghost. Like, an actual, real ghost."

Kyle let out a shaky breath, running a hand down his face. "Yeah, and I'm still trying to process how any of this is real. Ghosts aren't supposed to exist."

"Guess what, Kyle?" Cartman started, his voice smug as he spun around to face the rest of you. "We're officially professional ghost hunters now. You all doubted me, but I just led us through a successful exorcism. So, you're welcome!"

"You didn't do shit." Stan shot back. "All you did was piss her off."

"And distract her!" Cartman added, puffing his chest out. "You think she'd have stood there like an idiot if I wasn't verbally destroying her? Face it, Stan, you're just mad because I'm the brains if this operation."

"Brains?" Craig repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'd argue you're the ass of this operation." Kenny snickered and nudged Craig's shoulder.

Cartman ignored them, waving a dismissive hand as he marched ahead. "You losers can make all the jokes you want, but when people hear about our success, we're gonna be rolling in cash. And you'll all owe it to me!"

Tweek let out a nervous chuckle. "I still can't believe any of t-this. Like... Ghosts? R-Real ghosts?" He glanced at you, his eyes wide. "Did you hear her say 'thank you' at the end? Or was I just hallucinating?"

"I heard it too. She seemed... Less scary in the end. Almost peaceful." You shrugged, offering him a small smile.

"Nah, I think you're both just schizophrenic." Cartman interrupted.

"Peaceful?" Clyde repeated, his voice still shaky. "She was about to kill us five minutes ago!"

"Yeah, well, maybe that's because Cartman kept calling her Master Splinter or something." You shot back with a grin.

"It was the teenage mutant ninja turtles you fucking bitch! Get it right next time!" Cartman snapped.

He spun on his heel, pointing an accusing finger at you. "And don't act like you didn't touch the music box! If anything, this is all your fault!"

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes. "And who was it that ran straight to her grave and banished her? Oh, right, me."

The tension eased slightly as the mansion came into view. The warm glow of the windows was oddly comforting after the chilling events that had just happened moments ago.

As you stepped inside, the old couple was waiting in the hall, their expressions curious but calm.

"Ah, you're back!" The old woman clasped her hands together. "We were wondering if you left already."

"Left?" Kyle repeated, his eyes wide and voice surprised. "How did you not hear what was happening out there? The screaming? The running? The lights flickering?"

The old man raised an eyebrow, his face wrinkling into a suspicious frown. "Screaming? Flickering lights? What are you talking about?"

Cartman groaned, slapping his forehead. "Of course you didn't hear it. You were too busy sipping tea while we were out there risking our lives!"

The old woman's expression softened, her gaze darting between you all. "Well, whatever happened, it seems you even managed to get rid of her. The house feels... Lighter now. Thank you."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small envelope. "Here's the other $100 we agreed on. And..." She hesitated, glancing at her husband, who nodded reluctantly. "Here's an extra $50 for your trouble. You've truly done us service."

Cartman snatched the envelope before anyone else could, grinning ear to ear. "See? I told you we'd get paid! This is what happens when you follow my lead."

"Dude, you did nothing." Stan crossed his arms.

"Nothing? Nothing?!" Cartman barked, waving the envelope in Stan's face. "Who do you think convinced them to pay us extra? My charisma! My leadership! My-"

"Your massive ego?" Craig interrupted.

"That too." Kenny added with a snicker.

The old couple exchanged a glance, clearly unsure of what to make of your group. "Well..." The old man cleared his throat. "We'll leave you to it. Thank you again for your help."

As they disappeared into the kitchen, Cartman turned to the rest of you, his grin widening. "You guys realize what this means, right? We're gonna be rich. This ghost hunting gig is our ticket to the big league!"

"I don't know if I'd call almost dying a gig." You sighed, shaking your head.

You pushed the heavy wooden doors open, walking outside as the cold night air hit your skin once more. The rest of the group followed along, walking back to your van.

"But it was kinda fun." Clyde admitted, a small smile forming onto his face. "I mean, terrifying, but... Fun?"

"Exactly!" Cartman exclaimed. "This is just the beginning. We're gonna take this town by storm! Ghosts, demons, you name it, we'll hunt it!"

"Please don't tell me you're serious." Kyle groaned.

"Dead serious." Cartman replied bluntly, his expression even more stern now.

Kenny leaned against the side of the van, his hands shoved into his pockets. "So, uh... Raisins?"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 3/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Summary: Before he'd be able to meet you again, Homelander has a realization.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Let's be fr he would not fucking say that, but let's pretend he's self-aware. Not proofread and pretty messy.

“I care not for his sanity. I care for his happiness. I care for his soul. Let him be mad if mad is what he needs.” - Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton)

Homelander fit seamlessly into his old life - or rather role.

There wasn't any time to process what had happened, since a throughoutly investigation was quickly followed by bland boring routine again.

Vought almost immediately released a statement concerning Homelanders abscence, something about a secret mission that required him to be undercover. They're even planning to make a movie about this fake bullshit already, unbelievable.

The physical examination that followed was the worst part, at least if you asked him. He loathed hospitals for obvious reasons, their bright white enterior reminding him just a tad bit too much of the Bad Room. Yet in the end they were unable to find any residue of the drug, poison or whatever depowered him in his system.

And while yes, the threat of an unknown enemy having the basis to one day potentially render all supes human again sure was concerning - but the fact that the short time Homelander spent without his powers was the happiest he's ever been left a bitter aftertaste.

You on the other hand had been released after a brief interrogation and background-check. Even now they still worried you might leak top-secret information to the public, but they feared Homelander's fury even more - and he made it absolutely clear that anyone daring to lay just a finger on you would meet a terrifying end.

Both of you had never spoken a word about what else happened between you back in the arctic, but that was none of their business either way.

After all, you were no one.

Your whole existence was insignificant compared to his greatness, there's no way you could ever become a threat to him. Simply live your measly little life and stay out of his one...

...easier said than done when you've practically ingrained yourself into his heart, still consuming his every waking moment.

For the people at Vought somehow a quiet Homelander was even more unsettling than his usual, duplicitous benignity.

They are used to randomly fall victim to his whims, constantly being on edge around him. Basically anything could happen at any time, to anyone and without even so much as a warning.

But as of late...

"Homelander?" Maeve was the only one bold enough to wave in front of his face, making him break the reminiscing. "You there?"

"Hmm?" The man looked around, seeing all eyes on him - business as usual. Ashley was standing in front of the Seven, yet whatever she was babbling about went on deaf ears with her superior.

It was like this ever since his return, this nagging feeling as if he was only physically present. He heard people talk and go about their day but everything was so far away...most of the time he just dozed off into the distance, eyes staring right through until he lost focus of his surroundings.

One corner of his mouth begins to twitch, feeling even more irritated by those oppressing trifles than ever before. He takes a moment to collect himself, hands folded neatly on the table. "Do what you want, I couldn't care less" was his firm answer, even though he didn't know the question - or if he was even asked one. "Excuse me."

"The fuck is his deal lately?" A-Train dared adressing the elephant in the room, albeit still being in super-hearing range, pointing over his shoulder to the door their leader had just rushed out of.

The Deep shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders now that Homelander's overwhelming presence was gone. "Beats me. Let's just hope it stays this way for a while."

He would make a quick getaway, his firm, aggravated steps audible before the man itself came into one's field of view. Anyone who had the misfortune to run into him in this state lowered their heads in hope they wouldn't meet an untimely end just for him to let off some steam.

There's a stench of fear lingering in the air, in every corner of this damn building.

"Vermin" he clenched his jaw as he turned around the corner, slamming the door to his penthouse with so much force that the frame breaks. "Every single one of them."

Ordinary humans were so pathetic-fucking weak, and yet they dictated simply everything. It shouldn't be this way! They should worship the ground he walked - or floated - on, build monuments in his name, but instead what?!

The masses idolized him of course, but that fact came at the extend of his own dignity. He had to perform in order to put on this perfect disguise, always smile and say his lines like a damn puppet...with Vought pulling all of the strings.

Was that really the only thing he was good for? So many abilities, all this potential and yet there he was, doing nothing substantial.

Right now he had everything: The greatest power in the world, wealth he could never fully spent even if he tried and influence beyond one's imagination - and yet he felt as empty as never before.

What a fucking joke.

Employees at Vought knew about his true wicked nature, so he had to rely on fear to control them. It was all he ever knew and felt comfortable with, after all...

...until you came along and willingly chose him. You had peeked into a part of himself he swore to never let anyone too close to - and embraced it. Saw him at his lowest, hell, even got hurt in the process and chose to stay at his side nevertheless.

Even though you missed the whole picture among fragments of himself, he was sure you'd be the only one worthy to know his story.

What he had with you may have been make-believe, but still way realer than anything about his corrupted existence.

Was his heart really nothing but a bottomless pit that could never stop aching?

Homelander's suit had always been like a metaphorical armor - functioning against inconsensual touches of fans as well as sort of a disguise, so people would always only see the hero and never the broken shell of a man beneath it.

But now it felt as if the fabric was burning into his skin, eating away what's left of him. Feeling as if suffocating, he curses beneath heavy breaths as he tossed it away.

It wasn't even the same suit you had repaired for him back then - and right now he painfully regretted having Ashley get rid of it.

There was still the oversized shirt he had worn when he left you, though your scent was only faintly lingering now, even to his keen nose. Well hidden under his pillow to lull him to sleep, he now puts it on as he feverishly tried to imagine the sensation of your warm embrace encoating him like a safety west.

That night, he was woken by an eerie realistic dream. No nightmare for a change, no - and yet it was leaving him just as exasperated.

A memory, about that one time you had convinced him to travel to that small village near your ecological research station. Apparently a bunch of savages were holding a festival to celebrate the returning of daylight, and opposite to his expectations it was actually quite enjoyable - mostly thanks to your presence, of course.

He could still hear echoes of your laughter spinning in his head, goosebumps rising where you had touched him as you danced in the cold streets. Snowflakes were entangled in your hair, making it shimmer ever so slightly as you took his hands, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Your breath was visible as white mist, holding onto him for dear life.

Just when he had mustered up the courage to bend down to your height, maybe steal a kiss or two, even if it was only at the crown of your head, both of you lost balance and fell right on your asses.

Homelander heard his own boisterous laughter mixing with yours, remembered how absolutely flabbergasted he was when you suddenly tackle hugged and started kissing him senseless.

"Shit. Shit!"

"Yeah, sure is." Oh for fuck's sake, not this again. But the voices kept returning, it's not like he had a say in the matter of his own mental illness. He never really has a say in anything, not even regarding his own life. "What are you so upset about?"

Well, it's not like he'd be able to fall back asleep anytime soon either way, so he followed the sound of his own voice back to the great mirror across the room.

"You're new" he states the obvious, seeing a reflection that doesn't resemble his current state at all. The man in the mirror was unkempt, with a scruffy beard and greyed strands standing out from his blonde scalp...

...and yet he seemed as happy as Homelander could only hope to one day comprehend. "Did we really look this shitty back in the Arctic?"

"Well, there's not exactly a stylist in the middle of nowhere" his counterpart shrugged, smugly adding "And Y/N liked it."

Homelander exaggeratedly rolled with his eyes, but the verbal jab had hit his weak spot. "You're just a farce, a cheap excuse of me, the real deal!"

"Nope" his amnesic alter ego scoffed at the insult, his smile never faltering. "I'm everything you always wished to be! What you could still become" he adds, his remark yet another fatal blow to Homelander's fragile ego. "You've got all the means to find her, so what's holding you back?"

"Because this is beneath me!" he roars so loudly, it's good that his apartment is big enough that no one could eavesdrop. "Why the fuck would I miss playing house with some nobody?"

However John is not accepting this bullshit for an answer, waving a scolding index finger. "Nah-ah, the real reason. Say. It."

With more force than necessary, Homelander scatters the mirror - would be too easy if that'd make them shut up, though.

"You know we don't just disappear." Several copies of himself are now talking, a medley of misery from each shard, reopening gaping wounds that never had the chance to heal.

"You think Y/N was just nice out of basic human decency. You think the kiss and everything else only happened because of the isolation before you came to that doorstep."

"You're afraid you won't live up to the John Y/N met. The ideal version of yourself that doesn't exist."

"That Y/N will find out what a freak you really are and runs away scared and disgusted, just like they all do eventually."

"You'll get bored of this at some point. Why bother?"

"Y/N will break under the pressure of this burden. It'd be selfish to do this. You can't expect this from anybody."

"Maybe you're even afraid of her coming in harms way because you know exactly what you're capable of."

"You already managed to destroy her life even without being your true self, just imagine what could happen. Stay away, at least for Y/N's sake."

"This whole farce just weakened you, and will continue to do so. We should just get rid of-"

"Shut. Up!" Homelander warns the last one, menacingly calm. "Don't you dare implying I could ever hurt Y/N. I-I'd rather fly myself into the fucking sun!"

"Oh boo-hoo. Someone gives you breadcrumbs of affection and you wag your tail like a dog in heat" the more depraved materialization of himself mocks, "Fucking pathetic, as always. Did you forget that people only exist for our fickle amusement?!"

"Don't listen to them, John." The only shard still attached to the wall was what he'd like to believe is his good aspects. "Listen to me: This is the one and only chance to get what you've always craved for - a real, loving home. Try it, at least. Remember Y/N's words - you deserve happiness."

There was no use in trying to catch up with sleeping. In fact it took all of his patience to wait the few hours until sunrise to wait for this confrontation...

...not with you, however.

Of course Madelyn would come to work this early. Typical. But Homelander was already expecting her - not waiting in front of her door to avoid seeming desperate, but a safe distance away, his glare seeping through the walls.

As soon as she appeared at the tower, he let himself into her office like so many times before. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, and at the sight of him adds some liquor to it. Hard to believe she was bothered because of something important. "This early? Seriously?"

"You know what's funny?" he didn't really acknowledge her question as he jumped onto the sofa, picking up a decorative snow globe to fidget with. "I thought the enemy had somehow deactivated my transponder...but a quick visit at the tech department later, I found out it worked just fine. This whole time."

Madelyn quirked a brow at the hero, tentatively leaning forwards over her desk. Showing some cleavage usually never failed to soothe his nerves, but not today. "If you want to imply that we're the ones behind all this, I can assure you tha-"

"No" he raised a warning hand, softly shaking the snow globe before putting it down again. "Nonono, I'm sure if you had the means to threaten me, you would've long since done it by now."

Homelander then leapt to his feet, strolling through the room filled with countless photographs of himself - but right now, it was like looking at a person he doesn't recognize anymore.

"Here's another interesting thing I found out: Not even a full week after my disappearance, you made the pathetic attempt to replace me with Black Noir. It wasn't until the public and your sponsors demanded answers to my whereabouts that you gave in and started actively searching for me. Isn't that correct?"

Checkpoint.

"Hey, I've been gone so long, I need to make up for all our missed conversations, don't I?" he huffed bitterly, viewing a snapshot of him and her without being able to feel anything but nauseous. "I've lived among...inferior people for the first time in my life. No fans, no people of Vought, just...Y/N and I. Living the life I only ever knew from textbooks or scripts. And it made me have a realization, wanna hear?"

The vice president closed her eyes in negative anticipation, taking in a deep breath but not being able to bring out a single word before being interjected again. Homelander knew her ways of manipulation and the effect he could have on her if he let her talk too much.

This time it was his turn, and he'd be heard.

The woman in front of of him crosses her arms in defense, giving an approving hum as she knew denying him was never an option.

"Let me tell you my theory first, you're gonna love this: So a boy of sixteen years is finally released from the laboratory he was raised in. Despite all the horrible things he had to endure there, he wanted to use his powers for good, so no one has to suffer like he did. He knows nothing about the real world, let alone care about profit or any of that bullshit. And then he meets this aspiring woman who sees her chance to be influental through him. Can you follow me until now?"

She nods and nothing more, her expression unreadable. "Good, very good. So the boy is now kept around the most rotten, selfish and greedy people on the planet. He was never inheritly evil, he simply adapted to his environment, as clueless as he was thinking this is how the world operates. And at the time any of you realized you had created a monster it was too late. You regretted it - but not out of moral concerns, no. Simply because you knew you couldn't possibly control him forever."

The silence was so loud that it was deafening, automatically answering everything.

"Even if that person was your most valuable asset, your figurehead, you'd be damned if you didn't use the lucky coincidence of him disappearing, no questions asked. Right? Right?!"

Madelyn Stillwell was a lot, but not a liar - at least not in the easy definition. She knew how to twist words, to withheld information just enough to get through with whatever she wanted. But she'd never lie so openly, so blatantly. Especially if it served no purpose, like right now that there was no use anyway. "We'd be damned if we didn't."

"So then why do you keep acting like any of this is right?" He looks deep into her, quite literally for his abilities wouldn't tolerate deceit. "Look, we've located you and the dot was moving. We knew you were alive. I do care about you, Jo-"

"Don't call me by that name. You don't deserve it." His jaw tightens into an almost-snarl, slapping Stillwell's hand away at her disgusting attempt to distract him through seduction. "Don't you dare touching me, and don't fucking lie to me again! Ive been lied to all my life...I'm so, so sick of this shit!"

Homelander's eyes turned from cold coal into glistening embers, threatening to destroy everything in their path shall the answer not be to his satisfaction. "Say. It!" he orders, his hands slamming on the table punctuating every word.

"Goddamnit, I'm afraid of you!"

"...what?" His voice was barely audible, laced with a hurt that surprised him - since deep down he knew the truth for a long time already.

"I'm afraid of you" she repeats, voice shaky at first but then practically yelling as if she knew it could be her last words. "I am fucking afraid of you, John! We all are! Everyone was relieved when you were finally gone, because no money is worth being subjected to you!"

"You- Vought...destroyed me for fucking nothing" he practically whines, his face running through various expressions at once as the last remains of his sanity crumbled. "I was robbed of any chance at normalcry and then tossed away like a broken weapon, and you seriously expected me to not return for a vengeance?!"

Countless possibilities rushed through his brain, one atrocious act more vile than the other - about how he could make the responsible pay the price for their wrongdoings, with Madelyn being the first one...

...but all his fury vanished when for the fraction of a second, his mind wandered back to you, who was still out there somewhere.

Maybe it was not too late for him after all.

All his life Homelander was comfortable trapping himself in a cage that was never locked, fearing whatever awaited outside could be even worse - but you, without even trying, had given him the hope to set himself free.

"Thanks for finally being honest with me." John shakes his head as if to cast all his violent impulses off, musing "I allowed you to use me because I never knew anything else...but that stops right now."

He breaks one of the windows with ease, grossed out by past memories when she dares taking ahold of his wrist. "Wha- where do you think you're going?" She looks sickishly pale, dreading that this would be the day he would go on a murderous rampage all those decades of madness had inevitably caused.

"I'm the Homelander, and I can do whatever the fuck I want." He rose into the air, not biding her another last look. "If anyone of Vought even tries to come near me again, I swear to god I'll end every single one of you."

___

Being in the US for the first time since your childhood made you realize: Damn, you didn't miss this shit a bit. Nostalgia is a real phenomenom, as it seems.

And even in this small town your...is it right to call him 'ex'? Anyways, his face is plastered on every square centimeter you'd fix your eyes on. Posters, screens, even goddamn groceries!

Hard to heal from something you couldn't even label, especially when basically everything reminds you of the love your heart still holds for John - or rather an illusion of a man that never actually existed.

You currently sat in front of your laptop, several tabs opened that made you feel pathetically nosy - but hey, there was hope that harvesting information about the real Homelander would help you overcome those silly, irrational emotions.

Then it should be good for you that everything you found out about him was freaking disappointing.

Vought...you were sure you had heard that name before. Typical monopolist corporate with a finger in every pie, unethical practices and too much influence on politics. It was as obvious as it was enraging, and yet no one cared enough to act against them - not that you were any better. To their defense, supes can be pretty scary so you get the sentiment of not wanting any beef with their bosses...especially after seeing John go apeshit in the past.

But as they all did, Vought still cared about their public image, and so they did a lot of charity to appear ethical. Not that it actually helped to cover any of their crimes up - this was more like an unofficial etiquette, a rule to behave like they're actually the good guys.

A few years ago you had applied for sponsoring your cause, and of course they denied the request. Vought couldn't give two shits about the environment, and if you didn't know any better they'd even go so far as destroying it themselves if the cause - profit, in this case - justifies the means.

Interesting enough, shortly after your return to society an official letter of the company magically appeared at your new address: A pledge of secrecy in return for money, summed up.

No thank you, metaphorically selling your soul to the devil wasn't your kind of thing.

A walking incarnate product, you thought as you closed the interview. No civil life, always performing. And that fabricated all-american backstory...ugh.

And about Homelander...

All videos you sporadically saw of him were kind of unsettling. His eyes were just as empty as his words, movements robotic and fake as if he had only learned to mimick normal behavior. Seeing him like this made you wonder if he even had a soul, or if Vought had sucked all humanity out of him decades ago.

How comes no one seems to notice...or do people simply don't want to acknowledge the truth about their heroes and the ones that lead them?

You sound like a dang conspiracy-theorist for someone that just got dumped by a supe in the most humiliating way possible. It's possibly just a coping mechanism to cover up the hurt caused by the indeniable truth: Someone like you was inadequate to the infamous Homelander in every single way.

The display of your old laptop almost snapped as you closed it in sadness and frustration, turning your attention to building that stubborn IKEA shelf again.

Wanting to regain an objective view on the situation at hand, you remind yourself that the two of you led fundamentally different lives that could never work out together. You hate modern civilization, you hate being the center of attention, you hate events and big cities...

...but you don't hate him. And maybe with him, for him, you could have endured.

Funny, isn't it? You've been alone ever since the death of your parents, keeping to yourself even while pursuing your education. Never able to form any close bonds, even if you tried. Ironically, you were exactly as lonely as him - not made to be among others just the same.

"Still a horrible taste for furniture, I see."

That familiar voice made your blood run cold, collecting yourself impossible as the blue-reddish silhouette belonging to it came into your field of view just seconds after.

All questions and accusations died on your tongue when you reminded yourself just who was standing in your living room right now. Homelander could find you no matter where, and literally tear away the roof of your house without anyone ever daring to object.

"You look great" he cannot help but notice, but you grimace as you see your own reflection in the window: grey sweatpants, a messy bun and an old T-shirt of his. Sure.

"Well, in case you forgot: I'm still in tremendous debt, so I'm not exactly drowning in luxury" you scoff, face fixated on the clash of wood and screws. John narrows his eyes in confusion, stating "Vought was supposed to recompensate you."

"Financially? Well, not without a catch." For a moment he thinks loudly, talking about 'ripping Ashley's head off', which made you finally turn to look at him. "Metaphorically" he added, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Oh, yeah...Ashley." The name only forcedly escaped your throat, which did not go unnoticed by Homelander. "Your girlfriend and I had a long talk back then. She explained your outburst was caused by PTSD. So no worries."

"My wha-" John made a dramatical gagging sound, crinkling his nose at you. His fists were on his hips, expression grim ike always when he was about to rant about something, making your lips twitch as you resisted smiling at the adorable sight. "Gosh, no. Ew. She's everything but that."

You had almost forgotten how cute he could be when one pushed his buttons - good to know it's still this way. "So, what brings you here all of a sudden?"

"Well, I-" He opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to come up with something, anything, but it sure took him a while. "Y-You didn't publish anything."

"I searched for your article. You've been talking about it nonstop back then." He dared stepping closer, making himself as small as humanly possible. "Actually I hoped to be mentioned and showered in praise as your assistant."

"Huh?" You narrow your eyes at him, and his tension is barely veiled. Great, just great Mr. Charming.

Okay, that one made you laugh. You had almost forgotten how refreshing those little exchanges were. "Well well well...I had to start from scratch after a certain someone wrecked my laboratory." He nervously rubs the back of his head, unintelligibly chuckling "Right...sorry about that."

"It's alright" you dismiss the guilt in his voice with a cheerful remark, "I'm teaching at a university temporarily, until I got enough money for another try." He knew. All this time he never lost track of you, craving to walk this path together with you but too cowardly to ask for your permission to join. "Seriously, Homel-"

"John" he corrects you, showing no ill intend. "Please, just call me John." Oh, how he missed the way his name sounded in your voice: Neither shallow, nor demanding or afraid - just John, no strings attached.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, John. But..." you intertwine your fingers to keep them from trembling, biting the inside of your cheek. "Really, you don't owe me anythi-"

"I owe you every-fucking-thing!" John blurts out, his insistance showing as he softly grabbed your shoulders. "Y/N, you helped me despite gaining nothing from it. If that isn't heroic, I don't know what is. I mean, without you I'd be a fucking icicle right now."

How often did he say this corny trademark quote 'You are the real hero(es)' before? This is the first time that it felt genuine - after all, you had saved him in more ways than just one.

You cackle shortly, more out of attachment to the man than his joke actually being funny. But the longer his hands remained stubbornly on your body, the harder it became to act like acquaintances merely sharing a crazy story that's long in the past.

"But you can't give me what I want..." You don't know what moved you to speak from the heart, but after all that had happened you deserved to drown in some self-pity. John's forehead wrinkled in an attempt to make sense out of you, insisting "C'mon, let me indulge you a little. For old time's sake."

Nothing to lose after already having everything taken away from you, right?

"It's my fault, honestly" you try to keep it together, but you knew there was no hiding your choked sobs from his senses either way. "I fell for something fake. And I know, I know it's stupid, but-"

"Not everything was fake" you rudely got interrupted again, but the content of his rambling made you forgive him easily. "My feelings weren't."

It took you a while to have John's confession actually dawn on you, releasing a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Your...what?"

"Took me long enough to realize" he snickered as he pulled you into a long-due hug, pressing a wet kiss into your hair out of habit. "I've tried to continue my old life, I really did. But fuck it...this whole time all my thoughts revolved around you."

He could barely hear over the sound of his own fastened heartbeat, but clearly your pulse was racing as well - not out of fear, that much he could tell.

And yet as much as the shared sentiment partially relieved you, there was something else laying heavy on your chest.

"I- don't know what to say, John" you try to wring yourself out of his embrace, but he stubbornly narrows the space between you, making you gasp in surprise.

Homelander was not someone taking no for an answer, used to always get what he wants no matter how. And people not acting like he anticipated was like hitting the bulls eye of his fragile psyche.

He'd be damned to just accept his loss after everything he put at risk.

"Hey big guy...look at me."

Your voice alone made him snap out of a downward-spiral that usually was an unstoppable force, always ending in tragedy. As he met your eyes he detected the plea in them, a vulnerability he had yet to allow himself.

"I have very strong feelings for you, John." Good. Then where's the fucking problem?! "But I've spent a lot of time thinking about" you pause, awkwardly gesticulating between the two of you. "This. You and me, us...John, you were talking in your sleep a lot back then. If you were not busy screaming your lungs out, I mean. About burning, drowning or being cut up alive..."

Your eyes begin to water at the memory, clawing a fistful of blue fabric from his suit. "Just...tell me the truth, and not that fancy propaganda bullshit. If we continue this, then I want to know you inside and out."

"What if..." John's voice cracks, only notices he'd been crying as he feelsbthe salt of his own tears prickle on his lips. He fucking hates this weakness, this sickness of his, especially if he cannot hide behind a facade. "What if the truth if so much more horribe than you could ever imagine?" His hands squeeze yours now, as if he fears you'd disappear if he let go off of this emotional anchor you had become.

John was about to pull back, bracing himself for the rejection. His only solace was the thought that it's probably the best for you.

If you'd know this relationship would eventually turn you into the moral support of a malignant narcissist and subsequent homicidal maniac, there was no way on earth you'd still voluntarily be a part of his life.

"Then I guess we've got to figure it out."

Whatever the extend of his pain, you are aware it's going to put a huge toll onto you as well. He most likely can't live normally, let alone love.

You cradle his face in your hands and he subconsciously leans into the touch, whining at his own neediness. "I can't say that my love is going to erase your hurt, but I can promise to be at your side through all of it."

"That's about the best fucking thing someone has ever said to me" he half-cries, half-laughs when you finally pull the man on his collar down to your height, sealing your promise with a kiss.

"And now get out of that costume" you tease, pinching one of the pads on his chest. "Looks even more hilarious now that I know you're not all that muscular underneath."

"Well, to my defense, other clothes aren't really fit for breaking sonic speed." He twirls you around skillfully, embracing you from behind as close as humanly possible. "And besides, that makes me the perfect candidate for a long-distance relationship, don't you think? You stay in this boring chaff, hell even the end of the world if you want to, and I could still visit you everyday. Or I'll just kidnap you to wherever you want."

Seems like he had already planned it all out. Not the most concerning action of his, though. Almost sweet, if you want to see it this way.

Won't be the last time, surely.

"But what do you want?" The question was so simple, so downright basic that not knowing the answer left him empty inside. His wishes? Does he even have any dreams or aspirations?

There was never a 'John' - the boy with this name died in that lab so Homelander could rise. For so long he had existed for the sole purpose of others that he completely forgot he was in charge of his own fate...

He leans to kiss you again, more tender this time as he savours the way your tears mix with his."I want to enjoy this until I can give you a proper answer one day."

...until you opened his eyes, through sheer kindness and willpower.

Maybe humans aren't so weak after all.

Finally, he smiles. It's the kind of smile that reaches up to his ears, making his whole face crinkly. One that matches with his eyes, genuine and radiant just like back when you first met.

"There you are...welcome home, John."

[auroravictorium]

labyrinth (k.b.)

Oh, I'm falling in love.

Summary: kaz and reader spend a peaceful evening in his room, enjoying each other's company.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kaz working through his touch aversion, brief allusion to near-death

Genre: fluff!

Author's Note: i promised fluff, and i am here to deliver <3 ENJOY! btw six of crows requests are OPEN! feel free to drop any angst, fluff, or headcanon requests in my asks :))

The sensation of his fingers on the sensitive skin of your inner arm nearly made you shiver, but you forced yourself to remain still as he started to trace your tattoo next. He ran his fingertips over the feathers of the crow, its legs as it perched on the rim of the cup, the vines crawling around the stem and up the side. Your eyes remained trained on his face, though he refused to look at you as he fought against the tide threatening to pull him under.

"Breathe," you gently reminded Kaz as he traced his bare fingertips along the veins in your arm. You watched as he forced himself to take a deep breath in, hold it, and breathe out. 

You sat together on his tiny bed, shoved in the corner of the Slat's attic almost as an afterthought. Letting your mind wander as Kaz let his fingers do the same along your arm and hand, you wondered if Kaz realized he needed to sleep; either he was meticulous about making the bed every morning, or he hadn't spent a minute of his time as leader of the Dregs with his eyes shut.

"What are you thinking about?" Kaz asked softly. He only ever used that voice around you, and it appeared more and more often as he fought to become more vulnerable around you. He figured you deserved it; he didn't want you to spend a day of your relationship regretting choosing him, especially if it could end with a Dime Lion finally getting their hands on you. Two months had passed after your name was handed straight to Pekka Rollins and a bounty for your capture and destruction was placed on your head with the intent of intimidating Kaz into bowing to the supposed might of the Dime Lions. He thought about his rage that morning nearly every day. Nothing motivated his urge to fight his demons and grow closer to you more than his fear of losing you.

"About how you make your bed like a member of the Kerch navy," you answered, leading him off the violent path his thoughts started to head down. He was grateful for that, and he forced another breath of air into his lungs to calm himself down.

"Is that so?" Kaz traced his fingers over the lines on your palm, and a shiver ran down your spine. His lips twitched upward at the reaction.

"Very much so." You scanned his face, from the creases in his forehead as he explored your skin to the focus in his blue eyes, down to the purse of his lips. "Perhaps you'll consider adding Sealegs to your long list of aliases."

Kaz broke into a small smile and finally met your gaze. "I prefer land, but I'll let you know if I develop an inclination otherwise." He dropped your right hand and went for the left, pushing up your sleeve and starting his investigation again. The terror that usually consumed him was bearable as he felt your pulse thrum against his fingertips.

You smiled as he turned your hand this way and that, leaving no mark, vein, or scar untraced. Kaz was nothing if not meticulous as he pushed himself toward being able to bear your touch. "How are you feeling?" you asked, daring to turn your hand in his grasp and loosely curling your fingers around his index finger. You brushed your thumb over a thin, silvery scar he had there, and you wondered how he'd gotten it.

He looked down at your hands, appreciating the subtle test. Instead of pulling his hand away, he laced your fingers together. He held your twined hands in his free one. "It's not bad," he told you quietly. "Not easy, but not difficult." Not as hard as kissing you for the first time had been, though he wanted to try again now and see if the feeling had changed. 

"That's good." You squeezed his hand, hoping it told him how proud you were of him. He'd been somewhat open with you about wanting to push himself and push back against the trauma of what he'd been through. He hadn't told you what that was exactly, but you didn't press. It wasn't your place, and he hadn't pushed you to share what drove you to Ketterdam either. There was a silent agreement that your pasts would remain undiscussed, and it was something you were all too happy to agree to.

Kaz pulled his hand away from yours, and you figured he was done for the day until he started to remove his coat. Your brows furrowed as he neatly folded it up and set it at the foot of his bed with military precision, then rolled up his sleeves and held his arms out to you. "It's not the same," he said, seeing the confusion in your gaze. His voice was uneven from nerves, and he pushed away the urge to pull his gloves and coat back on. He could do this. He was determined to. "Being touched and touching someone else."

You nodded slowly and hesitantly reached out. "One at a time," you told him. He lowered his left arm but kept his right arm stiffly extended. "Breathe," you reminded him. He nodded curtly and watched as you held his hand and slowly started tracing his tattoo with your fingertips.

The ink of the crow and cup stood out starkly against his pale skin, and you noted that his tattoo was more detailed than yours. He'd added more thorns to the vines circling the cup, partly filled with what was supposed to be wine. As you reached the crow's beak and the skin of his inner elbow, Kaz exhaled slowly. He flexed his fingers but allowed you to continue. You reached the crook of his arm and spotted another patch of ink peeking out beneath where he'd rolled his shirt up.

You brushed your thumb over the fragment of the mystery tattoo then ran your fingertips back down his arm, making sure to trace every scar like he had with you. Once his right arm was finished, you switched to his left and repeated the process. To your delight, he had a freckle on the inside of his wrist that you probably spent too long admiring. There was something about Kaz having a freckle that made you smile.

Kaz didn't realize he was smiling with you until you pulled your hands away and looked up at him. As the two of you looked at each other, really looked, heat rushed to your face as you realized that in the past eight months, you had fallen for the Bastard of the Barrel. With every smile he shared with you, you fell all over again. Every flutter of your stomach and pound of your heart in your ears since you'd told him that you'd chosen him, danger and all, confirmed it. A sudden fear that he didn't feel the same struck you, and the fluttering in your stomach slowed with anxiety.

"What is it?" Kaz asked quietly, noticing your smile fade. You didn't seem unhappy, but something had clearly shifted on your face. Did you realize that this was the reality of being with him? Celebrating touches that should be easy?

You considered not telling him. Maybe this wasn't the time, or it was too soon or sudden. But Kaz had fought so hard to be open with you that you owed him the same. The vulnerability should go both ways.

"I told you after Pekka got my name that I chose you," you whispered. Kaz stiffened, his mind getting ahead of him, and you gently squeezed his wrist. You weren't going anywhere, not like he was probably thinking. Shit, that was a terrible way to start this. "You told me I chose to stop running, not the danger of being associated with you."

Kaz nodded slowly, unsure where you were going with this. For once, he couldn't puzzle something together, especially when you were consciously or subconsciously being hard to read. Why were you telling him this?

"I don't regret choosing you for a second," you told him, meeting his gaze. You tried to muster your confidence, though you struggled to keep your breathing steady and your eyes on his. "I've never been able to say that about anyone before. It's never been right." Right time, right place, right person. But you're right. You always have been. "But this is right. You feel right. And I love every piece of you, whole, bruised, and scarred."

The silence that followed your confession was scarier than saying you loved him, and you had to remind yourself to breathe this time. Kaz was so still and quiet that you could have mistaken him for a statue, and you were terrified as you waited for him to say something. Anything. 

You slowly withdrew your hands from his arm, giving him space, and your heart sank to your stomach as Kaz didn't respond to the loss of your touch. "Kaz?" you whispered. "Can you say something? Please?" Your voice cracked on the last word, and you didn't realize that your eyes had started burning until you had to blink to keep your emotions at bay. I shouldn't have said anything. It was too soon.

Kaz finally thawed and met your gaze, and you let out a slow breath in relief. He was silent for a moment, tracing a finger along the inside of his wrist where he would usually pull on his glove. "I thought you were leaving," Kaz admitted, and his voice was rougher than you expected. He caught your hand and laced your fingers together. He took a few deep breaths; suddenly, even the slightest touch seemed like too much. He didn't have long before he'd need to put his gloves back on. "I will say it," he said quietly. "I swear it. I need time. I know that's-"

Your shoulders relaxed at his words, and you offered him a small smile as relief flooded your chest. "It's enough," you said, cutting him off before he could concern himself with whether that was alright with you. Of course it was. You brushed your thumb over his knuckles before pulling your hand away and offering his gloves to him. "It's more than enough. Your pace, Kaz."

He nodded. Before he put his gloves on, he lifted your hand to his mouth and brushed a soft kiss along your knuckles. "Thank you," he whispered, his lips ghosting against your skin. He pulled his gloves back on but did leave his coat off, letting you admire how his forearms tensed and relaxed as he flexed his fingers. Kaz raised his brow at your not-so-subtle look. "What?"

"Are you sure you're not considering a career in the navy? I think you'd make a fine sailor."

Kaz scowled, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned back and grabbed a book from his nightstand. He passed it to you, though you saw him briefly consider tossing it at you and letting you try to catch it. "You're a bigger flirt than Jesper."

"Nobody is a bigger flirt than Jesper," you answered as you made yourself comfortable at the foot of his bed while he leaned against the headboard. 

Kaz smirked and opened his own book. "Except for you."

"Read your book, Sealegs."

A stiff pillow hit you in the back of the head, and you dropped your book. It thudded to the ground, and you turned around, raising a brow at Kaz innocently reading his book on the True Sea. Your hand twitched toward the pillow. His face was in its usual frown, but his eyes glimmered with a challenge that you were all too happy to accept.

You grabbed the pillow and smacked him with it once, knocking his own book away, then hit him again in the face for good measure. The book lodged somewhere between the mattress and the wall, and satisfaction burned through you as Kaz spluttered and grabbed at the pillow. You slipped off the bed, giggling, and danced out of reach as he wrenched the pillow from your hands and tried to strike you with it. You grinned, content with how the tension in the air had loosened, leaving you both feeling much more carefree.

Failing to reach you while sitting on the bed, Kaz launched the pillow at you. He felt content with his aim until you darted across the room toward the door.

You narrowly made it through before the pillow hit the doorframe, and your laughter echoed down the hall as you went toward your own bedroom to get ready for bed. There was a smug skip in your step as you moved down the stairs and rounded the corner to make it to your room. You'd return to tell Kaz goodnight, but until then, you'd let him stew in his loss of the pillow fight he'd started.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3 (welcome to the taglist!)

[godisshook]

Pledge Week

Frat parties weren't usually your scene, but after a brother had invited you, and your friends encouraged you, you eventually decided to go. The party was standard at first, and you played beer pong for what seemed like an eternity, just to pass the time. You would make it down to the dance floor, where it seemed everyone congregated as the DJ was playing Miley Cyrus. As you were dancing alone on the floor, you notice from the corner of your eye, a group of frat bros looking and pointing at you. Once you met their gaze, they started to approach you. Even though the party didn't have a theme, it was pledge week, and you identified the three new ones by the nicknames on their chests.

The pledges had walked up to you, "Are you supposed to be here?" You nodded and said you had been invited, to which they asked which brother invited you. Never having got his name, you scrambled to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. You replied, "I don't know where he is, but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't invited."

They didn't seem to like your answer. One of the pledges said, "You expect us to believe you when you can't even find the guy who invited you?" You got nervous as it seemed they were angry at you. You noticed the drinks in their hands, and not wanting something bad to happen, you blurted, "Feel free to kick me out, I just don't wanna cause any problems." They all looked at each other, and one replied, "Follow us." They led you upstairs, past the game room, and into another set of stairs. You realized they were taking you to one of the rooms upstairs. As they led you into a side room, one of the brothers locked the door behind him. You asked, "If you guys wanted me out, why am I in a random bedroom?" one of the pledges responds, "We gotta investigate you, it's standard," Suddenly, one of them started kissing you. You were confused, but went along with it, hoping you would just be able to go.

They had different plans for you. The "investigation" soon resulted in each of them pulling down their pants, cocks throbbing as they looked down on you. As you gazed up at them, you understood what they wanted from you, and so you pulled down their underwear and began sucking.

Never in your life had you seen dicks as big as theirs, and you wondered how much longer you could go. "FUckKKkk" one of the pledges would grunt, as he grabbed your head, and began face-fucking you. He thrust his cock into you, causing you to choke on it as it hit the back of your throat. As he was fucking your throat, the pledges as a whole started hollering, clearly happy with themselves that they have you in this position. The first would try to comfort you by giving you "breaks" which in all actuality was him pulling you from his cock to his lips, catching you breathless as he kissed you, and then placing your lips right back on his dick to resume.

"You suck it like a champ," he said, chuckling. The other two started smacking your ass and put their massive cocks in their hands and began jerking off. They looked at you hungrily, as the second put two fingers in you, and started pressing into you. "His ass can barely handle two fingers!" He exclaimed. He continued inside of you but started to grow impatient as the first was still using your face as his personal fleshtoy.

"Lemme have my fun with him," the second one said. The first replied, "He has two holes for a reason, right?" The second got the hint and got on the other side of you. A mix of horror and desire pulsed through you as you imagined getting fucked on both sides. As you tilted your head to look, the first would take both hands around your head and start thrusting again, pulling your attention away. He said smugly, "Focus on me, he's nothing." The second one replied, "Oh, is that right?" As if you were the target of his anger, he began pounding into you, his cock stretching you out. You could only let out stifled moans as the first still had his cock in your throat. It was a feeling unlike any other, but you only found yourself wanting more of it.

They were admiring themselves and what seemed to be their great work, as you felt the pressure build inside you from their joint effort. You started to push against the second one's cock, moving your ass back and forth. "Now he's getting it!" He said, grabbing your ass to aid you. The combined pleasure was too much for you, and you came on the bed. "I guess we're just that good," the second said to the first. He replied, "We can definitely say we're learning about teamwork." They laughed and continued on, sending waves of pleasure through you as they kept going.

Y’all are fucking hogging him, the third pledge said, who had still been jacking off as the other two were hitting you on both sides. You couldn't even process what was going on, as the first brother pushed your head against his hairy crotch, as he started to cum. He kept thrusting as cum filled your mouth, and you swallowed. "Kinky," the third pledge said, now taking the place that was left by the first. He started right back up, pushing your throat against his hard cock. The first was jacking off his still-hard cock and had come again on your back. In between thrusts, the second said, "This is the best pledge week gift I could've asked for!" He had been pounding into you until you were numb, but as hot cum filled you, you began to connect the dots. Just as that happened, the third pledge tilted his head back, overcome with pleasure. Before you knew it, cum had once again filled your mouth. The three had ravaged you and got off the bed to admire their work. "I bet $20 he'll never forget how my cock was inside him," the second pledge said. The third exclaimed, "He still has my cum in his mouth!" The first pledge shook his head and then said, "Either way, he's gonna keep coming back, isn't that right, cumdump?" You were still recovering from them, but you nodded. "Good, good," they all agreed.

After that, you were a permanent guest at their frat, and whenever they told you to go upstairs, you knew exactly what was in store. You had become the pledge's personal cumdump, but at least you would have an unforgettable time.

[pocketramblr]

An AU where Izuku said yes to Shoto when he asked if All Might was his father!

Have I done something like this before? Probably. Am I going to go back through every ask game to see it? Nah

1. Izuku doesn't know why he said yes. He's not even sure if he said yes, because it felt more like a squawk to him before he covered up his mouth, but Todoroki is nothing and saying he knew it before going on about quirk marriages, and asking if that's where he came from too, and he can only shake his head which at least is true, but why is he asking??

2- "I figured All Might wouldn't have sunk to that low." Todoroki nods. "And if he had, he would have done a better job than my father. Your quirk is strong, it feels just like All Might's, but your body isn't built to handle it just like my oldest brother's body wasn't built to handle hellfire." Izuku has many questions. Apparently the oldest brother is dead and when he says he's sorry, Todoroki just says it happened a long time ago and he didn't really know him. He doesn't really know his other brother either, and Fuyumi only since their mother was hospitalized after burning his face and she took over. Izuku has even more questions just as many concerns. Todoroki is trying to answer them while also getting to his vow thing, since Izuku did answer his question at the start.

3. Around the corner, Bakugou is eavesdropping and totally not freaking out too. Yes, he's wracking his brain to remember any detail about Izuku's family- he knows Izuku's mom is an old classmate and friend of Bakugou's dad, remembers that Masaru called Inko one year to invite Izuku to Katsuki's birthday party, and then Katsuki had thrown a fit and Mitsuki had declared he'd deal with it if he wanted any gifts at all and swore to invite Izuku personally next time, but a year later had seemed to have forgotten about the threat and Masaru didn't try again. He vaguely remembers a woman with green hair. But surely, if Masaru knew his friend had bagged All Might, he would have said something. But he might not have known. But no, because Izuku can't be All Might's kid, because he would have said something. Had he ever mentioned his father? Bakugou was pretty sure the guy worked abroad, but maybe he was remembering something another old classmate had said instead?? Except none of that made sense, because Izuku was quirkless. And also had told him his quirk had been given to him. Which also made no sense!! Bakugou decides the answer is simple: Izuku is lying, either to him, to Todoroki, or to both of them. And he's going to find out the truth. After he beats both of them at the SF. Priorities after all.

4- After the fight with Todoroki, Izuku is in a hospital bed while Toshi looks over him. He wants to tell him everything, but is afraid of breaking Todoroki's trust. But Izuku's lie about his father involves Toshinori, so... He tells Toshi about what Shoto asked, that their quirks felt the same, and about his brother. Dimly, Toshi thinks it's kinda weird of Endeavor to push a kid to use fire when he's doing pretty well with ice, considering uh fire is the one that killed his older son, but most of his brainpower is being used to focus on "secret lovechild". And then he gets very apologetic because he's sure Izuku cares for his real father very much, except when he says that Izuku just shrugs and goes "eh I don't really think about him, haven't seen him in years" which means.... Free Son.

5- Bakugou derails his fight with Todoroki not to insist on him using his fire, but on him saying that obviously All Might isn't Izuku's father. Todoroki points out that the obvious connection, but Bakugou hasn't been around to hear any of the lunch invitations, and since he started investigating this mystery, uh, two hours ago, all he found was this weird tall blond skeleton hanging out around Izuku. Surely if he was All Might's son, All Might would have shown up to wish him luck. Or, you know, at any point at all in their childhoods. And really, he's known Izuku for most of his life, does Todoroki really think he's figured the guy out in a few weeks? (This whole conversation is happening while explosions and ice are flying, btw.) Todoroki just stares at him, and points on that on the first day of school, the whole class saw Bakugou flip out and act like Izuku was "supposed to be quirkless", so of course Todoroki didn't think Bakugou actually knew Izuku that well, if it all. Bakugou is blindsided enough by this that a bit of ice pushes him just over the lines. On the second place podium, he's got a very blank expression. When All Might leans in to put the medal on him, Bakugou quietly asks about Izuku, and Toshi's denial is suspicious enough to be confirmation. Bakugou fully bluescreens. Todoroki, meanwhile, tosses his first place medal to Izuku before leaving the pitch that day, because he doesn't want his father to be happy about having that in the house, and because he sorta owes it to him after helping him work through his issues. Izuku gives the medal to Uraraka, who pawns it off, sends half the money to her parents, and spends the rest of it taking her friends out to a celebratory dinner, which Izuku and Shoto and Tsu enjoy immensely. You'd think the person having the worst time that night is Tenya, at the hospital by his brother's side, but actually it's Bakugou who's interrogated his father for anything he's ever heard about Inko's husband and is trying to figure out if an affair with All Might or her and the real Izuku selling his identity to All Might's actual son is more likely.

[thezombieprostitute]

Hummingbird - Part 6

Summary: You didn't want to break into someone's party but you were desperate to see the art at the gallery before it was gone. You're so busy trying to make sure no one sees you that you miss the ever present gaze of Steve Rogers who is wondering why you crashed his party.

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: Reader is AFAB

A/N2: This takes place at the same time as Dream Come True Part 7

Warnings: Implied violence. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 5 -- Part 7

Series Masterlist

Steve is on edge. Ransom might be trapped in his own home and the only way to find out anything was to send in a civilian. True she was on their payroll, but she’s supposed to only be on the legitimate side of things. Bucky was swearing up a storm and vowing to beat every passphrase he could into Ransom’s head so that this shit would never happen again. 

Bucky gets a phone call from Mace, Curtis’s second-in-command. He immediately puts the phone on speaker, “what’ve we got Mace?”

“Note from Ransom that reads, Lloyd is back. Has solid plans to take over everything. We’re getting our intel to confirm and find out where he’s at.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. He knew he should’ve just had Lloyd killed but he was trying to not be like the other Bosses in the other Families. He won’t make that mistake again.

Bucky follows up, “what’s the word on Teach? She safe with you guys?”

“Not yet,” Mace answered. “She sent us a photo of the note from Ransom. Haven’t heard…” There's a ruckus in the background as they hear Curtis yelling. “Give me a minute,” Mace tells them. He doesn’t hang up so Steve and Bucky are privy to the argument between Curtis and Mace. Steve finds himself unable to argue with either man as they go back and forth between priorities. He’d heard rumors Curtis was going soft for Teach but this confirmed it for him. He can’t say he wouldn’t be doing the same if Hummingbird was in danger.

“Shit,” Steve cusses, earning a look from Bucky. “We gotta get a hold of Levinson. Start moving people out of here just in case a war does break out.” 

Bucky nods as Mace gets back on the line with them. “I don’t know how much of that you heard,” Mace’s voice is cold and a little shaky, “but Curtis is taking an axe with him.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers. 

“We’ve gotta get a plan in motion and we can’t do that without intel,” Steve says. “I need you and your team to focus on that. If you can find Teach you will tell me her location first so I can talk Everett down. In the meantime we’re getting Levinson to start getting the more at-risk people out of here.”

Bucky nods and adds, “we’re gonna up our patrols a bit and make sure no one goes out unarmed. I’m gonna call in a few friends, Nat should be done setting up McMann’s wife, Barton says he’s been feeling on edge so he’ll be happy to hear it ain’t for nothing.”

“Stay safe, Boss,” Mace says before hanging up.

You’re getting your things ready for whatever it is Steve has planned. He’d called you earlier and told you that there was an emergency and he needed to bring you to his place for a while for safety. Hearing a knock at the door you check through the peephole first to confirm it’s Steve. You let him in and he immediately bearhugs you.

“You’ve got your things packed,” he asks. 

“Just finished.” He nods at your response and gestures for you to follow him. The entire quick walk to the car you can see he’s on alert. His shoulders are tense, every noise warrants a look or quick investigation. 

When you’re inside the car Steve seems a little more relaxed. You know from previous discussions the tinted windows are bulletproof and it looks like he’s got his best driver, Dayton White, behind the wheel. You get the impression the “emergency” he talked about means he’s in danger. 

“Is it safe to talk,” you ask, squeezing his hand.

“Technically,” he replies. “Better to wait until we’re inside.” 

You nod and hold his hand the entire trip. 

When you reach Steve’s office he starts taking and making a storm of phone calls. The primary seems to be someone named Levinson. You trust Steve to explain things so you sit and wait patiently. 

After about an hour a grizzly bear of a man comes in, “Steve, where is she?”

“Ari,” Steve greets. “She’s right there,” and he points to you. “Hummingbird, I need you to go to a safehouse out of town with Levinson.”

“Excuse me,” you ask. “I have no idea what’s going on. Why am I not safe here with you?”

Levinson looks at Steve, eyebrows raised, “you didn’t tell her anything?”

“I’ve been kinda busy,” Steve barks. He looks at you, “we’ve got a very dangerous man looking to bring us down. He will not hesitate to take out anyone that might be remotely associated with us. Ari is our best at coordinating people to get them out of danger without drawing attention, I want you to go with him.”

“Is everyone else out,” you ask.

Steve’s brows furrow in confusion, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean are the others safe already,” you reply. “The nieces and nephews? The Family members that run the legitimate businesses? Are they safe?”

“I want you out with the first few trips,” Steve orders.

“No,” you retort. “I get that I’m important to you and that puts a target on my back, but I’m not leaving and taking up Mr. Levinson’s precious time that could otherwise be spent protecting the more vulnerable Family members!”

“You’re wasting his time now,” Steve scolds. “Just go with him and do as he says so I know you’re safe!”

“I’m not the priority for escape,” you argue. “I can stay inside this fortress. Not everyone else can. Get them out first and then I’ll go!”

Steve is cut off by his phone ringing. “It’s Jensen, I gotta answer.” He keeps glaring at you, trying to stare you down as he barks, “what?!”

“We…we got Teach’s location, Boss,” Jensen stutters. “Cairo hotel on 45th and Washington.”

Steve writes as he speaks, “Cairo hotel, 45th, Washington, got it. Now get back to work on Lloyd.” He hangs up and goes to speak to you but Ari cuts him off. 

“Cairo hotel? I know the manager there. What’s going on?”

Steve takes a breath, “we’ve got a person, a civilian, who appears to have been kidnapped by Lloyd. Tracker on her phone says she’s there.”

“Well, let me give him a call and see if he can’t get her out,” Ari takes out his phone. 

Steve sighs, “and if he gives you trouble, tell him Everett’s gone Berserker and will do anything to get her out safely.”

Ari freezes at that, “holy shit. I don’t think Pine will let him in.”

“I’ll talk him down first, get him to give up his axe,” Steve assures. Ari nods and walks away to make his phone call. Steve then turns his attention to you, “and you are leaving to get somewhere safe.”

“Again, Steve,” you insist, “I am not the priority here. Let the other family go first, I’ll stay right here where you can see me, and after they’re gone, and after that poor woman gets rescued, I’ll get out. I promise.”

Steve is already worn out from the slew of arguments he’s been having so he relents, “fine. But you do not leave my sight. You stay in this room.”

“Yes, Sir,” you smile gently.

He gives you a warning look and calls up Curtis. It takes him a few tries but Everett finally answers. You can hear him yelling over the phone. “We have her location,” Steve tells him. “I’ll give it to you if you calm the hell down.”

There’s some more angry yelling before Steve gets in another word,“because if we’re not careful a lot more people will be hurt and killed. And I know you know that. The last thing we need is Berserker. Now get yourself together, Everett. Put away the axe and I’ll tell you where you can get her. Full stealth operation.”

Steve looks at you and his eyes soften, “do you really want her to see you like this?”

It must’ve done the trick because he tells Curtis what the plan is as Ari returns with some of the finer details of his friend accepting the visit. When they’re done talking Ari leaves to get others moving out of danger and Steve drops into his office chair. 

“Sounds like he’s really in love with her,” you comment. 

Steve nods, “though from what I hear he might not realize it yet.”

“They’ll figure it out soon enough, I’m sure.” You take Steve’s hand in yours. “Sometimes it can take a while.” 

He nods again, “took me a couple years to actually ask you out.”

You look into his eyes, “and it’s taken me a few extra months to say, I love you, Steve.”

His eyes are a mixture of adoration and happiness as he kisses your hand, “I love you too, Hummingbird.”

Part 5 -- Part 7

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @rayofdawnworld; @rebekahdawkins; @texmexdarling

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

[gorbalsvampire]

D'you have any player-facing or secret ST-eyes-only systems that you like to use for tracking SI exposure in your games? Or (shunting you a soapbox here) for seeding and making good on consequences generally?

So in general, my absolute favourite way to generate The Quencies is Succees At A Cost. "I'll offer you a devil's bargain," to quote the Master, Mr. Carl.

Kick enough Successes at a Cost down the trail and you can have them escalate into something quite spectacular, whatever that turns out to be. The same for Messy Critical consequences. "There's been a Masquerade breach, but I need to work out the details, so it'll be with you in a couple of sessions' time." That sort of thing.

I also like to frame story beats as poison chalices and sadistic choices. Yes, you can have the Dunsirns' help in covering up the assassination attempt on that Baron you murdered, but they want her property, her territory, and you to know exactly who took the fall for you and what that's worth.

What else? Every chronicle needs a character who's talked about more than they are seen. Telegraphy is key, but don't go too hard on it - we don't want players going "we've got a BADASS over here" about them. I think the trick is having other SPCs be afraid of them, or answerable to them, or clearly dependent on them.

In my Glasgow game, Miss Drake the scourge didn't appear very often, but she was mentioned in the context of "what keeps this praxis running?" and "why doesn't anyone hunt in the West End?" Sir Thomas Dunsirn - Big Tam to his family - was the unseen hand of the nocturnal economy and, more to the point, the hand holding Alistair's leash.

There's this horrid old man who somehow gets you to do whatever he wants. You first met him when he physically and psychically assaulted his way into your turf and your crime scene. You owe him your continued liberty. And he has a boss. At that point, player imagination is doing the work.

But while we're here, I'm also going to talk about Nemesis Points. I took these a late-series Fighting Fantasy gamebook, Night Dragon, and I love them. As you quest to find the location of the titular Night Dragon and prevent its resurrection by the cult who worship it, you have various avenues of investigation to pursue, some of which are of course dead ends: you also have various bits of side business, in accordance with custom. Every prevarication, every attempt made, even the successful ones, adds some Nemesis Points to your tally. If you haven't found the Night Dragon's lair by the time you reach a given Nemesis score, Your Adventure Is Over in a sense far greater than "you got mugged by three pirates and died again."

When I was running face to face games, I'd sometimes put one of those spindown - or in this case spin up - life counters from Magic on the table. Whenever my players prevaricated, overthought, faffed about or otherwise didn't make the most of our time together, the die would spin up a little.

I think something like that could adapt to Masquerade cockups very nicely. People love a meter.

I find the Response Algorithm and Institutional Conflict systems in the Anarch and Camarilla books are a bit of a headache, but they're there if you need them. Of course, Second Inquisition also has a chapter explicitly for doing this, for running your SI presence as an active and hostile force with its own goals - almost a solo side game for the ST.

This isn't something I've used - yet - as Wild Roses was very much me finding the transitions I needed to make out of Revised era thinking, and one of those was vampire-focus, less interest in what mortals want and are doing. The SI there was a cool threat that warmed up in the third story when I wanted to raise the stakes and do a cool bank heist opening session, and again when a returning player gave me the opportunity to tell a story about collaborators and how they should die in shame. I had ideas for how they served the vampire story and they were only developed in so far as they did that.

I'm not actually very happy with how I characterised and played my SI characters, and I'd like to do them justice with another outing. One where they actually have a project. It'll be more work for me, but if I'm going to do this Spy vs. Spy chronicle concept justice, I'm going to have to do that work, aren't I?

[theamityelf]

I just saw the ask about the mini despair senpais and main focus is on the idea of Makoto brushing mini Izuru’s long hair like one would a doll while Kyoko is off investigating. Nagito is patiently (as he can) for his turn

(This is amazing. Yes!)

Kyoko had specifically cautioned him not to let anyone know she'd left her senpai with him. It was...uncomfortably similar to Sayaka asking him to secretly switch rooms, but this was different!

Makoto waited in the bathhouse for a few minutes after Kyoko left, since she'd also said to stagger their exits. He'd been holding Izuru on his hand, meaning to talk to him (and to get him and Nagito talking to each other), but Izuru had climbed down Makoto's body as nimbly as a spider and was currently in his hoodie pocket.

"Okay, I'm going to leave now. You okay in there?" After making sure that Izuru was comfortable in his pocket and Nagito was comfortable on his shoulder, Makoto left the bathhouse, grabbed some food from the kitchen, and returned to his dorm room.

He set up the senpais' food in Nagito's little living space and deposited them both there. "Are you guys good to have dinner while I change into my pajamas and stuff?"

"Komaeda can't kill me, and I don't care enough to kill him, so you're safe to leave the room," Izuru replied.

"Um, good? Nagito, are you-?"

"I'm great!"

"Okay. I'll be right back! Have fun."

When he returned from the bathroom, dressed for bed, Nagito was still eating and Izuru had finished his share and was working out a tangle in his hair with his fingers.

"Do you need a brush?" Makoto asked, crouching close to the table. "Oh, but you probably can't use one for yourself, can you? Do...you want me to brush your hair?"

Izuru was very resourceful, and if he were given a normal-sized hairbrush, he could still have found a way to use it. But he was curious. "Yes," he answered. "Don't break my neck."

"I won't! Of course not! I mean, I'll be really careful. One second..."

One hour later...

"I didn't know you were so good at brushing hair," Nagito said, from Makoto's shoulder.

"This is a little like brushing doll hair with my little sister," Makoto replied. "Am I really doing alright?"

"Well enough," Izuru replied. "Komaeda's jealous."

"It's hardly my place to be jealous. I'm just...hopeful. That I get a turn next."

"Sure, I don't mind," Makoto said. To Izuru, he added, "Are you ready for me to be done yet?"

"Don't stop," Izuru said. "Just keep talking amongst yourselves. I'll let you know when you're done." And then he shut his eyes for several minutes.

"He's pretty demanding," Nagito laughed. "Say, did he ever tell us what his talent is? I don't remember."

"I don't think so. I'm sure he'll tell us when he's ready, like Kyoko. Or, maybe he's like us! That's fine, too."

[lara-prism-light]

Redesign(and rewrite) of Alya and Rena Rouge for my Miraculous rewrite.

The original design was too generic for me and didn't look like a girl who has a blog. I know a Ladybug themed t-shirt that she would start wearing after the heroes' popularity kicked in, She wears a plaid jacket, jeans and boots. I chose this style because I thought it suited her a lot, and yes, I made her hair curlier, and a thousand apologies if it turned out bad, I'm still trying to learn how to draw curly hair TwT

As you can see I also moved the mole a little above her eyebrow, the original position would be covered with her hair. And yes, I decided to dye her hair orange at the ends, I don't know, I thought it would look cool, let me know what you think.

Alya is still Marinette's classmate, and in the beginning she has a very empty blog with very few followers (who would be her closest friends) but before the Ladyblog she would talk about heroes about heroes from other countries, since at the moment Paris would not have heroes yet. She takes a liking to Marinette after helping and defending her from Chloe and showing off the rest of the school (in this rewrite Marinette is a new student at the school as well as Adrian).

She and Nino are very close and she likes superheroes a lot and wants to be a journalist when she grows up. As soon as Ladybug and Chat Noir arrive, she begins to document everything about them, to the point of becoming an obsession of hers that ends up consuming part of her life. Her family and friends, especially Marinette would try to bring her back to reality but she would be trapped in her obsession of discovering who her beloved heroes were.

That was the perfect motivation for Hawkmoth to send an akuma to her, turning her into lady wi-fi, which would go after the heroes looking for their dear answers. She would be defeated and Ladybug would explain how important their identities were, which Alya, after learning that her best friend Marinette was very dejected by her selfish actions, realizes how wrong she was, almost giving up on her dream but being motivated by ladybug to keep dreaming, and that one day she would be an amazing journalist.

Even more inspired by Ladybug, and even more affected by her amortization, Alya begins to change her investigation focus, she no longer wanted to know the identity of the heroes, but that of the villain. She would start balancing her normal life with her little investigations into where the villains came from and who was behind them, and seeing her family, friends and boyfriend being akumatized, She grew to hate Hawkmoth, and wanting to bring justice to those he hurt and manipulated. This attracted the attention of the curious and treacherous Trixx, who felt curious about the number of times he saw her close to danger looking for clues, but he could also feel a desire for justice coming from Her. And then one night, during an akuma attack, she got tired of being useless and tried to help, even though she knew it would be dangerous, but was told to stay out by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Trixx appeared to her and gave her the Miraculous of Illusion, so that she could help her idols and protect her beloved city as Rena Rouge!

I didn't change much in the design, out of all the designs on the show this is one of my favorites but I still added road details. She now has an orange jacket, her knees have white diamonds, and her wrists and heels have fur. The ears are now like a bow for her ponytail, and the cream colored part of the ear contains a dark tone in the middle. Other than that, everything else is the same, just with some additions of different shades of orange.

Trixx gets a tuft of hair too, I thought it would look cute :3

Her flute still has the power to create illusions, mirage is still her main and strongest power, but now she needs to focus on the illusion to keep it as realistic as possible. Her illusions are now much more realistic, when using her illusions she can almost warp reality enough to make her illusions semi-physical(like the phantom ruby ​​from Sonic forces) The more intense the illusion the more she needs to maintain focus.

She can also use camouflage, it's practically the ability to become invisible, but for that she would need to hold her breath. I based it on the fact that foxes are known to be sneaky, and with that Rena would be able to sneak past enemies without being noticed.

Like ladybug and Chat Noir, it also contains a special effect, this effect would be the hallucination effect, With that effect she would play a melody on her flute that would cause a mental confusion in the akumatized that would make them hallucinate for a few minutes until the music stopped. It's more of a distraction but depending on the akumatized it could very well be dangerous. More additions to powers can be added, like a Ktsune-based power or something like that. Tell me what other powers she could have.

As a character, Rena Rouge would be the type to play pranks on other heroes in her spare time such as on patrols and important meetings. She would be close to Ladybug and Chat Noir and would follow any of their orders, but at the same time respect their privacy when she could. She would always go out at night to investigate Hawkmoth alone, but would start to be accompanied by Chat Noir who would also go out at night to patrol alone.

She was always going to interrogate the akumatized about their conversations with Hawkmoth but didn't get much out of them. That is, until a whole group of villains appeared who seemed to be much stronger and had a greater connection to Hawkmoth, filling her with even more questions and leaving her exhausted from investigating.to the point that she couldn't even post anything on the blog, seeing it as something not very important anymore.

Much more is yet to be rewritten about Alya and Rena Rouge, stay tuned!

[rainyarcades]

I have reason to believe Cassie's dad tried investigating into GGY, and it didn't end so well for him.

Let's get into why...

The therapists say to patient 46 (Gregory, while under the Dr. Rabbit (Mimic) influence) that the techs were getting concerned with his diving into the system, hacking it and messing with code to change how the animatronics act. This happens multiple times:

Now, what is Cassie's father? A Fazbear Technician! Evident by the fact he has a Faz-Wrench, something only Fazbear techs own. Now this is absolutely a stretch, right? Well, it is, until I bring up this note found in the AR world:

In the AR version of the Plex, Cassie experiences personal things that wouldn't be there for other people-- cutouts of herself with Roxy, of her with Gregory (and subsequently crying when he's gone), missing posters of Gregory, eyes that stare at her, mirrors, etc. So this note is another personal thing to her, and given the importance of the other personal things listed, it's likely this note has a good amount of significance to her too. I previously thought it was because Cassie's dad had left to look into something, but I had zero idea what it could be-- until now.

Either the note was placed by someone else to cover up her dad's disappearance (more likely, death), or he left it there knowing he'd be gone longer than normal while looking into this mysterious GGY. With people repeatedly disappearing, and GGY linked to the animatronics being messed up, he could've taken the initiative to look into it himself- and, possibly, payed the price for it.

When this happened, I don't have much of an idea. But I assume closer to the time SB took place rather than GGY, since it's pretty likely Mimic's influence was dropped right before the game, and RUIN seems to happen maybe a few weeks to a month after the base game? I think Cassie would've done something, or felt something was off, much sooner if it'd happened before then; but we don't know enough about her yet to know if that's the case. There's no mention of any other family she has outside of referenced 'emergency contacts'.

We still don't have a whole lot of information about Cassie, so we don't know how long she was left alone, if she's left alone often, etc.

With Help Wanted 2 possibly being a prequel to Security Breach, it's possible we'll also get a confirmation as to why and how Gregory got stuck under the Mimic's influence, plus what happened to Cassie's father. Maybe the game takes place a few weeks before Security Breach? I dunno. We just gotta wait and see!

I just doubt this note means 'he went away for a while at some point and came back', and it's not like past tense is used when she says her dad has a Faz-Wrench like it is when she talks about him collecting old lunch boxes. It has to be significant, otherwise, why include it?

I believe whatever happened to him, Cassie doesn't know about it yet- but her link to the Mimic, and by extension Gregory, goes deeper than we realised- that's why she was introduced at all in RUIN.

Her story is 100% far from over, but I don't believe we'll focus on her again juuust yet.

We know Scott doesn't drop huge lore without clarifying it in the next installment; Burntrap > Mimic for starters. Dittophobia happened, Steel Wool is now referencing fnaf 4 in tweets tagged as SB and RUIN. GGY is still shrouded in mystery, answers are bound to come up soon! (There are way more examples of Scott confirming lore in the next installment of something, but I can't bring it all to mind right now-- there's definitely plenty of examples, though, and iirc Scott made a steam post about this once)

Gregory had a huge reveal at the start of this year with GGY's release; plus, the Mimic (and how it can control things) was finally introduced in the games.

I think GGY is next to get fleshed out in the game universe, and Help Wanted 2 is the perfect place to start. And, of course, that all links to the people who'd sunk too deep into the mystery; the therapists, Tony Becker, and the technicians.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

2024 Reading - October

I didn't set out to read quite so many eerie books this month, but about halfway through the month I gave up and leaned into the theme, partly because I was struggling to really focus on anything--as evidenced by the volume of books read via audio.

Total books: 11  |  New reads: 11  |   2024 TBR completed: 4 (0 DNF) / 33/36 total   |   2024 Reading Goal: 74/100

September | November

potential reading list from October 1st

#1 - The Republic of Pirates : Being the True and Surprising Story of the Caribbean Pirates and the Man Who Brought Them Down by Colin Woodard - 3/5 stars ('24 TBR, audio)

Well-organized as a historical account of a specific time period, and full of detail--perhaps too full at times. The author opens with the intention of focusing on three pirates (Blackbeard, Black Sam Bellamy, and a third whose name I've honestly forgotten) and one man opposed to them (Woodes Rogers). However, the sheer volume of names, dates, historical accounts, and side characters overwhelms any more focused narrative. Woodes Rogers hardly seemed to feature in most of the story, and where he was present, he didn't seem that important to proceedings. Blackbeard and Bellamy both have their time in the spotlight, but then it's back to the jumble with them.

As a sweeping look at the golden age of piracy and even everyday life in the early 18th century in much of the world, it's a decent account (and this is what I went into it seeking). If you want a biography of a specific pirate like Blackbeard or Black Sam or that other guy, or even of Woodes Rogers, it falls somewhat flat.

Note: Probably this would have been easier to follow in printed form; while the narrator for the audiobook is great, there're just so. many. lists. Names, dates, ships, cargoes, places, meetings.... So many.

#2 - Manners and Monsters by Tilly Wallace - 2/5 stars (audio)

This book has three things going for it: 1) Zombies and other supernatural creatures in Regency London; 2) Decent historical accuracy in Regency London; 3) Good pacing.

The negatives are largely rooted in the fact that this book probably thinks it has an enemies-to-lovers arc. It does not. What it has on one side is Wycliff, a whiny, self-important womanizer who is made out as brooding and damaged and only in need of the right woman to tame him. On the other hand, it has Hannah, a woman who is reasonably put off by Wycliff's attitude and lack of basic civility. They only manage to reconcile because she's desperate for male attention (tell me again how poor and plain and unloved you are, please, it's been a whole chapter since the last time) and he decides she's the only woman he's ever met who isn't shallow and prattling and unworthy of his respect as a gentleman.

This is not to say Hannah is blameless. Apart from her fixation on her status as an unmarriageable 22-year-old with good connections, she's just annoyingly inconsistent. One minute she's a wallflower who's just happy to be useful and the next she's the cleverest girl in all of London and no one can touch her.

And then there's the writing, wherein the readers are treated like idiots who can't put together a 10-piece puzzle of a picture of farm animals. All character reasoning was spelled out, all breaks in the murder investigation repeated ad nauseam so we didn't miss them. And any time marriage or men were mentioned, we were reminded that Hannah was going to die alone and unloved, but she was making the best of it. The final reveal about the murderer was the only real twist, and I'd argue that the narration had previously suggested the answer was practically impossible.

Read North and South for a better handling of whatever character dynamic this book tried to present. Read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies if you're here for the supernatural elements in Regency England. Don't read this book.

#3 - The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton - 4/5 stars ('24 TBR, audio)

Wharton's writing is breathtaking. The story itself, exploring the intricacies of high society is 1870's New York, was fascinating. No sympathy for Archer from me, naturally, but I still enjoyed the story as a whole.

#4 - Small Spaces by Katherine Arden - 4/5 stars ('24 TBR, audio)

Ooooo, this was much spookier than I was expected. I don't remember the last MG horror story that had me quietly stressing out like this. (I recommended it to Kenzie before I'd even finished.)

The narrator left much to be desired. Would not recommend the audiobook.

#5 - The Turn of the Screw by Henry James - 5/5 stars (audio)

Ahahahahaha what.

More like this: "Jane Eyre" and (probably; I don't remember it) "Wuthering Heights"; also the beginning (like the first half) reminded me, weirdly, of The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place. That...did not last.

#6 - The Light Princess by George MacDonald - 3/5 stars (audio)

When I added this short story to my list, I thought it was going to be an extended version of the fairy tale "Little Daylight" that was in At the Back of the North Wind. It's not, but it was still a solid fairy tale I could see myself reading to my nieces when they're older.

#7 - The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman - 4/5 stars ('24 TBR)

So short I feel funny counting it but here we are.

And it's just as creepy as I was expecting.

#8 - The Stone Road by Trent Jamieson - 4/5 stars (audio)

This was gorgeous. Yes, it was helped by the Aussie narrator, but the story itself--the slow and vivid unveiling of their world, the dangers that abound, the quest to conquer those dangers, even the sorrow--was an absolute treat. It's a post-apocalyptic horror driven by hope! So, so easy to fall into. Perfect pacing and a fantastic narrative voice. I was not expecting to love this one like I did. The only reason it doesn't get five stars is because the characterization was a bit odd and felt inconsistent at places, especially with side characters; and a character was introduced very close to the end who didn't seem to serve any purpose at all.

There's also a related novel, actually released several years before The Stone Road, that features the aforementioned character who turns up near the end of this book. I gotta see if I can find a copy.

(Note: Some reviews say this is difficult to read on account of...creative grammatical choices, suggesting it needed polishing. I cannot confirm this.)

More like this: it felt like a blend of "Sabriel" and the Tiffany Aching series of Discworld novels, with a young student learning their dangerous and vital trade at the feet of a respected master. There's something like the inherited necromancy of Sabriel and something like the rich, marrow-deep instinctive magic of Tiffany. Jean isn't exactly like Tiffany or Sabriel in personality, though she is clever and stubborn. It also feels a little like the earlier Earthsea novels, that feeling of watching the legend of a great hero unfold.

#9 - Zero G by Dan Wells - 4/5 stars (audio)

I picked up this audiobook during a promotion on Audible years and years ago and remembered it recently while browsing for something to listen to. A little over 4 hours, MG in space, and a "Z" title? Why not?

Reviews say this is "Home Alone in space". Having never seen "Home Alone", I'll have to take their word for it. It was surprisingly fun either way, with a good balance of sci-fi, danger, and comedy. Definitely something I'd recommend to kids in the right audience age range.

More like this: It felt a bit like "The Last Cuentista" but leaning into the levity more than the horror that surrounds "Cuentista".

#10 - Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett - 4/5 stars

Good as ever. Granny's a Top Five Discworld character for me, and I love her dynamic with Nanny and Magrat.

And Greebo.

#11 - The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (audio) - 5/5 stars

Predictably chilling. I loved the build-up. We know the house is haunted. We know it is dangerous. But it's still terrifying.

DNF:

The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead by Max Brooks - Fun concept but bland delivery. I was hoping for a smidge of a narrative throughline.

Zeroboxer by Fonda Lee - Admittedly a desperate attempt to get that "Z" title. Had potential until the MC's hormones took the wheel halfway through.

The Sisters of Straygarden Place by Haley Chewins - Fluffy writing full of weird metaphors and similes for every description. It bogged down the pacing big time.

Blindsight by Peter Watts - Picked a book at random from my TBR to listen to, got 15% of the way in, and decided I had no idea what was happening and no interest in continuing. Possibly this would have been easier to follow in print form? Confusing all around. Also very weird about autism.

The Lighthouse at the End of the World by Jules Verne, translated by William Butcher - I've read and enjoyed other works by Verne, but this one was an absolute slog. Not sure if it's down to the translation or the fact that the story was edited and published posthumously. I will say the edition I picked up would be a treat for someone wanting to come at this from more of a research angle. There are extensive notes about translation choices, notes Verne left in his manuscript, and a lot of "Verne said this in the text, but in the real world this makes absolutely no sense", which was lots of fun. (Note: This was my 40th DNF of the year....)

Currently Reading:

Lords and Ladies by Terry Pratchett - I'm about two-thirds of the way through this one. I tried so hard to finish it by the end of the month but didn't quite manage it.

Etiquette and Espionage by Gail Carriger - Just started this one and I'm loving it so far!

[myfandomrealitea]

(Free Palestine anon)

Ok so...Idk if you're jewish and/or have much knowledge about this kind of prejudice, but do you have advice for how to avoid (or at least to pay attention) in case a certain post has some antisemetic misinformation?

(If you didn't understand, I could try to make it clear)

If you're asking how to avoid misinformation in posts, the answer is the same as with any validity verification of information:

Check who is posting it. Do they post a lot of contradictory information? Do they claim to be a certain ethnicity, religion, race, ect? Do they speak in certain ways? Do they post or reblog a lot of the same content or information? Are they politically bias? (E.g; they might claim to be British but is the way they speak distinctly Irish or American?)

Research the information given in the post for yourself. Make sure to look at a variety of sources, not just one. Is there a lot of people referencing this information? Has anyone called this information false on other platforms? Can you find any evidence to support the information given? Are there news articles, broadcasts, ect?

If you like to have breaks from subjects of an upsetting nature but still want to remain informed, consider creating a second account where you can follow a multitude of people who's primary focus is what you want to be informed about. This way you can use that blog to fact check, investigate, follow people, source and so forth while not having the entirety of your dashboard on your "main" account flooded constantly with content you may not be in the mindset to see.