#all i need to do for my little pixel guy is click on him at the right times you are stronger than me

[illogicalvulcans]

played sims during my lunch today and took a break from the family with a baby to check in on the ineffables and got this popup like lol yeah he does in fact he's been lying to god since like day 1 he loves deception

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

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

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means,  the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world. 

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp  but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.” 

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated. 

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do. 

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while. 

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is. 

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment. 

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something. 

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light. 

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate. 

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck. 

"I was just looking for.. uhh…" 

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed. 

" Shit. Sorry, let me-" 

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly. 

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-" 

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-] 

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen. 

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and  stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless. 

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples. 

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early." 

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge. 

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it. 

So naturally , you were sent to kill him. 

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer -  particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable. 

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower. 

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off. 

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside. 

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry. 

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange. 

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily. 

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?" 

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold. 

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view. 

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial. 

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.  

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought. 

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him. 

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you. 

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression. 

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-" 

He shrugs, noncommittal. 

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt. 

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile. 

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes. 

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter. 

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time. 

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile. 

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?” 

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky. 

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong? 

_

_

_

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@teacoffeeflavored @chuuyara@qiapia@rotten-zombi3@bonbyon @tianyhi @noelsilly @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @peachsteven @thesquidni@fatenpara @verr-uckt @kurakasabe @kamiko32 @mushy-mushroom04@izzys-hawttea@theandromedastar @wicked-futures @truthuntolddd @prettygirlpattinson @hellokittylover202 @angel-eyes05 @lacedinweb22 @starguiders @buggiecrawls @eugeab @tarjapearce @whoreloll @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @ancientbeing10 @shartythefarty@royalhearts

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook

[starlightkun]

the soulmate factory ➥ teaser [sungchan]

➥ teaser word count: 1.3k | full fic: 28.9k ➥ warnings: none for the teaser! ➥ genre: angst heavy at the beginning then fluff, science fantasy au, soulmate au (red string), speculative fiction, star crossed lovers, a little mystery-ish, artist sungchan ➥ estimated release: wednesday, february 14, 2024 6:00 p.m. eastern time

Swiping your badge at the access panel, the door clicked to unlock, and you pushed it open. There were a couple of other matchmakers already in there, who didn’t offer you a single glance or any indication that they were even aware of your presence. Sitting at your station, you were face-to-face with a quaintly archaic-looking computer. Compared to the newest monitors at every desk in the main bullpen, which could display images in a resolution so crisp it was hard to tell the difference between that and real life, the small, square glass and pixelated text that was in front of you seemed so out of place. But this was the system.

Pressing the Enter button on your keyboard, your screen came to life, already giving you your first match.

N!#83LPd5D4ZR$PYQ^KLT6WnY##4GYVm74v^f@96#q#hheeRYgLLf3Ft9KQw

‘Matchmaker’ was a misnomer, really. You didn’t set people up to be soulmates whatsoever. The computer gave you the results, all you did was read them. Take the seemingly random string of letters, numbers, and characters, and parse out the meaning. Your training consisted of watching other matchmakers work, then trying your hand at doing some on your own, being told that you were wrong or right, with no explanation as to why either way—until you stopped getting them wrong. And whenever it would be your turn to train a matchmaker, that would be exactly how you’d train them. Because there was no way to tell them what exactly you were seeing, or how to do it. They just had to do.

The longest part was looking up the profile numbers in the program, selecting them, and sending off the match results. As soon as you submitted that one, your next match came up.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

Your body moved as if by itself, in understanding with the machine, the program. The matchmakers often talked about entering a sort of trance when working, becoming one mind with the computer, completely unaware of their surroundings, time, or bodily needs. Only the next match.

That’s why all of your screens had to be simultaneously forced into a shut-off at lunchtime, or else none of you would take a lunch break, then again at the end of the workday.

Blinking a few times to readjust from the hours spent interfacing with the program, you looked around you at the other matchmakers slowly getting up from their seats as well. With a sigh, you stood up and shuffled out after them. Jaemin was still at his desk when you got back to yours, fervently clacking away at his keyboard.

You grabbed your coffee mug, went to wash it out in the breakroom and set it up to dry, then returned to your desk. Swallowing in an attempt to wet your dry throat, you asked him, “So how was your thrilling day of data synthesis?”

“Not over yet,” he groaned, scrolling down in his spreadsheet. “Hey, wait up a minute, would you?”

Checking the time on your watch, you nodded. “My bus doesn’t come for another twenty-five. They let us out early again.”

“Yeah, I heard the Director on the phone to somebody a while ago. He sounded pissed. Apparently, there’s some concerns over the Factory’s energy usage. They must be cutting you guys a few minutes early every day to try to help since you still use old hardware, right?”

“Mm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, could be.”

“You’d think we’d be the one agency that wouldn’t be hit with budget cuts,” he scoffed, clicking a few things before his monitor displayed the login screen again. He spun around in his chair, giving you a wide smile. “Alright, ready?”

“Sure.” You grabbed your backpack from your seat.

Jaemin and you headed down the stairs, awash in pinks and oranges from the sunset streaming in from outside.

“So, I already know what the answer is going to be, but I have to be able to say that I asked, alright?” Your coworker began, making you scrunch up your face in confusion.

“Huh?”

“My sister wanted me to ask if you’ve done hers yet? Na Minhee?”

You sighed, “Jaemin, you know I don’t know any of that—”

“I know—”

“—it’s all just… stuff. And you’ve compiled profiles, those are completely anonymous.”

“I know, I know,” he reassured you. “I just needed to be able to tell her that I asked, and that’s what you said. She wouldn’t take my word for it.”

“She’d know if hers has already been done, anyway.” You held up your hand, wiggling your pinky finger. “Why ask you?”

“Because she’s impatient.”

“Well, I can’t help her.” You shrugged. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

“I’ll tell her that. Thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem, dude.”

“When does your bus come?”

You checked the time again. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

“You want me to wait with you?” He offered, looking around the empty bus stop. “Kind of dark.”

“I’m alright, thanks. Go break your sister’s heart, champ.” You gave him a mock punch on the shoulder.

“Right.” Your coworker shook his head. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow, Jaemin.”

On your own again, you took your phone and headphones out, popping one earbud in your ear as you went to choose your playlist. As you scrolled, tapped, and swiped through your phone to try to pick the perfect song, some fuzz fell from your jumpsuit onto your right pinky finger, and you absentmindedly shook it off as your focus stayed on your music library. But it was stubborn, and the red fleck didn’t budge. You wiped the digit on your pants, eyes on where you had finally gotten the perfect choice, the song starting up as you lifted your now-clean hand back up.

Except it was still there. You looked at your hand for the first time, really looked at it, and felt your stomach drop. A thin, bright red string, the same color as your jumpsuit, was tied around your right pinky finger, just above the juncture where the finger met your hand. The string hung off in the air, becoming transparent and disappearing altogether less than a finger’s length away. You turned your hand over, palm to back to palm to back, and the string moved with it, the end fluttering with each of your movements. Stupidly, you tried to grab it, as if to pull it off, but when you took hold of the silken thread and gave it a yank, it didn’t budge. For a split second, amputation came to mind, but you quickly pushed those thoughts away. There were stories of people losing fingers or entire limbs and their strings reappearing on the other hand, or in new places altogether if they had no hands at all.

You looked around for any of your coworkers. Nobody else except the two people on either end of the string could see it, but you still didn’t want anybody to be observing your behavior, and then have to try to explain said behavior right now. It was easy to explain why you were doing what you were doing—you just got a red string; but not how—you weren’t supposed to get one. Ever.

The area around you was empty, the majority of your coworkers driving, taking the subway, or not having left work yet. You looked over your shoulder, at the pink marble building looming in the distance.

The squeal of brakes and hiss of compressed air as the doors of a bus were flung open made you turn around. Rushing up the steps onto the bus, you then plopped into your usual seat, keeping your backpack on your lap and instinctively tucking your right hand between the bag and your body to keep the string hidden. You didn’t know who could possibly be your soulmate now, you had to be vigilant.

➥ masterlist

[sobredunia]

tell me about Fez, please, im looking through your blog and like, i am intrigued

please click read more for an unskippable cutscene

ALRIGHT SO.

FEZ is an indie game created by a (now hated on the internet) guy called Phil Fish. If you wanna find out why he's hated do your own research this isn't about him it's about his videogame

It came out on april 13th of 2012 (yes. homestuck day. i know), and it sold over a million copies by the end of 2013. I've tried finding how many copies have been sold up to this day in total but didn't find anything, but the general gist is that it was pretty much an instant hit, and people absolutely loved it, working together to solve its intricate puzzles even to this day. Yes, there are mysteries hidden in here that an entire community of dedicated fans still hasn't found the solution to 11 years later

(tiny warning here, do not play this game if you have motion sickness or are severely affected by rapidly changing images, there are whole areas that are a doozy to play through. Please stay safe!)

Gameplay

Fez has a singular core mechanic that remains unchanging throughout the entire course of the game, and that is the ability to change perspectives

this is what the game looks like, a 2d pixelated landscape with tons of beautiful colors

but.

this is what the game also looks like

that's right, baby, this shit's actually in 3d

you use this change of perspective nonstop throughout your adventure, to cross gaps like demonstrated in the gif, or to simply access places you couldn't in that current perspective. There are other tiny mechanics that get added, like invisible platforms, crates and buttons, bombs, timed platforms that disappear... they add a bit of flavor, but the main mechanic is always there

There's also a really big emphasis on puzzles towards the latter half of the game, but I'll get more into it later

Story motivations

Your name is Gomez, you are a tiny little guy living in a cozy 2d village that you have never ever left. One day, an old man named Geezer sends you a letter asking you to climb to the top of the village. There, a giant fucking cube appears outta nowhere, teleports you to a satanic ritual, then to the vaccum of space, speaks to you in a strange language you cannot understand, and gives you a free hat. Oh and also he explodes or something

After you're given the hat, the fez, you discover that the world is actually in 3d, and you can now change perspectives. You unlock the core mechanic

After that, you wake up in your room with the fez still on your head, and a being in 4d called Dot is sent from who knows where to tell you that the cube that gave you the hat is called Hexahedron, is actually technically kinda god, and you fucking killed him. Now, your mission is to pick up its 64 pieces and reconstruct him

You see all those tiny golden cubes? You have to collect 8 of them to make a bigger cube, and you need to collect 32 of those

Now hold on, I hear you ask, didn't you just say that you need to collect 64 pieces? Why are you changing your mind and saying 32?

Because, my dear friend, there is another type of cube that you have to also collect

These are called anticubes. Y'know, "a negative for every positive" type of stuff. You have to also collect 32 of those

The main difference between an anticube and a normal cube is that they aren't broken into 8 pieces, when you find one it'll be whole. You can also sometimes encounter full golden cubes btw, but they're rarer than its normal tiny pieces that you collect. Another main difference is that these cubes are much, much harder to find, and I'll go into detail in the next section

There's also this one hub area, with four doors that will only open once you have enough cubes (anticubes also count)

Once you open the door with 16 cubes, you'll enter this one town filled with people that aren't quite like you. In there there's yet another door that will open when you get 32 cubes, so get to gathering motherfucker, you got a long way ahead of you

Puzzles (anticube edition)

When you collect that first anti cube, there is no going back. The floodgates have opened and you are now too deep in. You know too much. You must see this to the very end, for better and especially for the worse

The puzzles in fez are actually surprisingly varied when it comes to difficulty and accessibility. Most likely, the first anticube you'll find will be in this one room. You'll scan the qr code and do the instructions it says, and then the horror of your new life will begin

But this is just the tip of the iceberg, because BOY OH BOY are anticubes convoluted to find in some cases

Sometimes you'll get them by solving relatively easy puzzles, like this one

others will require a bit more thinking, like this one

and then we have the hardest ones where you'll have to learn how to read words, numbers, and commands in the FEZ language

and these arent even the hardest bullshit puzzles the game will pull at you. it gets worse. it gets so much worse

Game ending

Surprisingly enough, you can get a game ending with just 32 cubes. In fact, it is literally impossible to get the 64 cube ending without the 32 cube one unless you have outside help, you know the answer to all puzzles, or you somehow get extremely lucky in a very specific number of rooms

Behind the 32 cube door there's a giant gate that, and I shit you not, teleports you into fucking space

Aliens are canon in the fez lore and they look like squids

Once you reach the top of the alien temple fucking thing, you enter an eye(?) and there you meet the shell of god, the Hexahedron. Since you haven't gathered all 64 cubes, it fails to reconstruct, and it breaks down. This part is pretty dangerous for people with epilepsy, by the way, as there's rapidly changing black and white colors. The 64 cube ending is a bit easier in the eyes, but yeah, just a heads up

In the 32 cube ending, you get sent back home, and you see how the town gets more and more pixelated. Then you see a weird sequence that's like those videos of people really zooming in into things and you see the particles and microscopic stuff?? idk. and then you see Gomez playing the drums :D

After that, you wake up in your room, still with your Fez, and the same sequence at the start of the game plays out. You go to the top of the village, Geezer summons a giant fucking cube, you meet god, but instead of getting another fez, you get cool glasses, that allow you to finally solve a batch of puzzles you couldn't see before and you can finally gather the last anticubes

In the 64 cube ending, the Hexahedron reforms correctly, and instead of zooming in, it zooms out. You see that your world is a tiny cube next to many tiny cubes, and then those tiny cubes form a 4d entity that looks just like Dot, and then those many Dots next to eachother zoom out until they're nothing but static, and then it looks like a tv is turned off, and then the credits roll

They're both very strange endings, and definitely not what a lot of players expected or wanted, but what can you do

Puzzles (hell edition)

NOW.

You thought that was the end?

You thought you could simply walk away scot free?

You thought that this game had no more last "fuck you"s up in its arse?

You thought fucking wrong

Because you know that something's not right

Because you're in too deep

You've played this far. You've scrolled this far.

You have to see how this ends

You have to tie up the last loose ends

You see this? This is the game's map. It actually has a really clever design! Not only are the icons for the areas cubes, but you can also change perspectives like how you do in-game! Pretty cool, right? There are also some small indicators you can see on the bottom left. They mark if you've left any cubes, bits, treasures, or locked doors. They also mark any secrets you might have left! And they turn golden once you've found everything there is in that room, including secrets

If you were normal (let's imagine that for a bit, okay?) and you got the 64 cube ending, that's it, right? You've gathered every cube, you've gathered every map (you need them to get all cubes), you've gotten every key and opened every locked door, that should be it, right? You have everything the game asked you to have, so the whole map should be golden, right?

...right?

No! :D you fucking fool, you poor summer child

In fact, there are three rooms left. Three rooms left with a secret symbol next to them, and one other special room

First, we'll talk about the special room

Once you gather 64 cubes, you'll be able to open a door hidden on an unsuspecting island and access this one special room

kinda weird, right? It has a tileset that appears nowhere else in the game, same with its background. There's also a strange transparent heart over it? Strange

Now, the three ungolden rooms

First, the observatory, the room with the easiest puzzle, at least in comparison with the other two

Second, you have whatever the fuck this is. In order to solve this one, you HAVE to know the Fez language, no ifs or buts. Not only that, but there's a high chance that you were reading the language the wrong way, so in order to have the remote chance to solve this mf you'll have to git gud and realise the error of your ways

And last, but definitely not least

The most infamous room in the entire game aside from maybe the heart room previously shown

This cunt

These three are the hardest challenges the game has to offer, no exaggeration. And also, the first two rooms can be solved at any point of your adventure, but for the third one you HAVE to have completed the 32 cube ending, no workarounds

Now, how to solve them?

If you go to the observatory at night, you'll notice two red blinking stars in the corner. They're speaking in binary code, with one being 1 and the other being 0. Then, that binary has to be translated into a buncha diff languages to be decoded, and once you're done you'll be left with a set of commands that you'll enter in the observatory to get a special red cube that not even Dot, the motherfucker in 4 dimensions that knows things beyond our comprehension, knows what it is

For the second room in fez language, you'll need to answer a question with the cubes provided to you. It's a weird thing where you have to mix this word with the name of the company who made the game, I don't know man. Once you've answered you'll get the second red cube

And now, the third room

Commonly denominated the black monolith room

Why is there no black monolith?

Because you have to make it appear

First, you have to get this burnt map

Behind it, there's a string of code that translates into commands

You need to get into the room, and use the special ability given to you in the 32 cube ending: first perspective mode

You'll have to stand in the tiny square inside this infinity symbol thing that doesn't have a line in it (basically, not the one the screenshot is looking at lol), and then you'll have to do the commands

Once you do it, the black monolith will appear

Okay, you did it

You put the code correctly

Now what?

This isn't a collectable. This isn't a red cube. This doesn't do anything. What is this? How do I solve this puzzle

You wanna know the answer?

Who fucking knows

No one knows the answer to this. No one knows how to solve this. The community solved this a week after launch by bruteforcing it. I shit you not they made a bot that spewed random fez inputs and people just tried them until they got the correct solution

No one knows how it's meant to be solved. To this day, people still go on the r/fez subreddit to give their theories on what the intended solution was meant to be

They have tried everything

The position of the candles, the boiler room, some other random ass rooms that look remotely similar to the black monolith room, a random shower room, it somehow being on a book in the game that's just filled with haikus??, some bullshittery mobius strip mental gymnastics, the other half of the code being in an abandoned airport in Arizona...

...whatever the fuck this is...

by far the most known theory was the release date theory

but that got disproven by one of the devs a few years ago

but anyways, we've already gone through insanity for long enough, it's time to be normal now

Once you've gathered all of the red pieces, they will appear in the heart room

that's it

we're done

.

..

...

....almost

there's a secret code

one that was actually intended to be datamined for once lmao

If you look at certain artifacts in the menu and you rotate them a certain way in a certain order, the heart will vanish and the screen will turn white

you'll be sent back to the menu, and if you load that save file and go back into the temple...

there will be nothing waiting for you there

that, my friend, is the true end of Fez

You wanted to know too much, you wanted to learn everything, to the point of wanting to tear open a creation that took blood, sweat, tears, and five years to complete. And now there is nothing. You ignored the game's boundaries of only wanting to let you know this much, and now the game is empty, the love is gone, and there is nothing left for you here

You can leave now, I hope you're satisfied

[adultswim2021]

Space Ghost Weekend (part 2)

It's the second season of the dang GameTap episodes of Space Ghost Coast to Coast, and the second of two posts covering them on this dang blog. I have very special thoughts about these, so please! pour over every word. Read this out loud to a loved one if needed.

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #98: "Richard" | September 11, 2007 | S09E01

In this episode: Moltar discusses Linda, solidifying her into the canon of Space Ghost. I will not rest until she gets her first onscreen appearance on HBOMax’s Jellystone. In the cold open they joke about Moltar being whipped. Space Ghost proclaims to be the Earl of Peppercorn, which is pretty wacky. Moltar is self-conscious about having a huge head. And other garbage. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #99: "Stephen" | October 31, 2007 | S09E02

Okay, so Yar is back in this one, and he doesn’t actually sound like the one guy I said from yesterday’s post, I fucked up. He also is clearly drawn in a pixel art style, which I didn’t realize because of the questionable provenance of the video files I’m watching. He’s sorta the Bubba Duck of this show (readers! Bubba Duck was introduced late into Ducktales’ run, and those episodes are largely considered [by whom?] to be inferior to the ones that came before them!).

There’s a non-verbal (like Val Kilmer aww) appearance from the Council of Doom. This one is abysmal. They really chopped up the interview to make it sound nonsensical, and I personally consider this to be cheating at making Space Ghost. Worse than having your main character follow an ant around for 11 minutes (Which I like!!!).

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #100: "David" | November 11, 2007 | S09E03

Seems like this show thrives on coming up with silly words like “Lava Chicken”. I sorta liked this one but it’s still pretty weak. Zorak takes over the show after bogusly claiming that Moltar went on “vacation”, tantamount to “escaping” Space Ghost's enslavement. Space Ghost goes on a wild goose chase looking for him. If this were a higher-budgeted episode they’d probably take it to funnier places, but Space Ghost talks to little Space Ghosts instead and it’s mildly amusing. Moltar was in the bathroom the whole time, nasty!

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #101: "Chantal" | December 2, 2007 | S09E04

Why do these all start with a weird click noise? I’m guessing that’s the website’s fault and people screen-recorded these? This one features Chantal Claret who seems like she’s a fan of Space Ghost. She’s also one of the biggest babes the show has ever had. It’s a shame she was wasted on a Gametap episode! I have not heard her music or googled her name + "Israel" so I’m not sure if I respect her or not yet. But she seems cool I like her. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #102: "Mark" (lost) | May 4, 2008 | S09E05 Space Ghost Coast to Coast #103: "Bruce" (lost) | May 16, 2008 | S09E06

Two losties in a row. No Idea who these schmoes are. I can’t even google these dildos. My pal London told me that the lost episode's titles/guests could very well be bogus; filled-in by some ne'er-do-well on a wiki, and that this information has self-replicated itself ever since. I am very interested to find out if that's true or not, but I believe it. I did do a cursory search on the library of congress website and was astonished to see some GameTap episodes listed, but it was missing episodes that definitely do exist so I can't really conclude anything from that.

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #104: "Dee" | May 25, 2008 | S09E07

Dee Snider who I heard is MEAN IN REAL LIFE appears in Space Ghost’s monitor. The compositing effects look bad again. Maybe Dee had to self-tape and this is what we got? They bleeped the word bitch in this. The Ghost Planet building is shown to blow up and a title appears on screen saying TO BE CONTINUED. This turns out to be a FUCKING joke. Dee is sorta funny in this, he gets into the spirit of the show pretty well by egging Moltar and Zorak to rebel against Space Ghost. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #105: "Barenaked Ladies" | May 31, 2008 | S09E08

This is easily the best episode of the GameTap batch, because it made me laugh twice. I expect this gag might be polarizing, but the weird live-action nipple with the fly crawling on it made me laugh. It’s unlike anything the show has ever done, really, and it was probably the element of surprise that got me. I suspect that gag might’ve pissed some people off, though.

The other part that made me laugh was when Space Ghost urges the band members to do something “sinsational” and the smack his lips. No joke, I laughed so hard at this, and it was one of those rolling laughs that feel like they’ll never end. They deserved the Peabody award for that joke. 

Space Ghost Coast to Coast: "Jonny Quest" | March 19, 1996 | Special

I wanted to throw this in there because I do sorta feel like this comes close to being a SORTA episode? It’s not really any better than the GameTap episodes, in my opinion. It’s mostly Space Ghost being excited about Jonny Quest’s VHS releases. Space Ghost never got an official retail VHS tape release, if I’m not mistaken, and couldn't you just imagine the world we’d be living in if there had been? 9/11 wouldn’t have happened! But Jan 6th still would have :( 

That's that for Space Ghost Weekend. We'll begin doing 2010 pretty soon. Maybe not exactly tomorrow, but soon.

[leadon-illfollow]

Well I got some of the fic written, I'll post the first chapter, let me know how you like it. It's not beta'd, im the only one who's read it. Im sure i'll come up with a better summary and eventualy have a name for it, but for the time being:

Yata and Fushimi have reconciled, its been a couple hard months but they're friends again. But what happpens if Yata has feelings beyond "friends"?

Yata looked at his PDA watch and frowned. He knew Saruhiko had tomorrow off, but he was hesitant to ask to hang out. They reconciled a couple of months ago. There was a lot of crying (on Yata’s part mostly) and a lot of screaming. Eventually they made their thoughts known to each other about the whole “betrayal” business. They’d gone back to being friends, both knowing they couldn’t have exactly what they had before. Yata still had the same admiration, Fushimi still feeling awkward when he heard Yata say “you’re amazing !”, still getting a thrill from it though. Yata decided he was going to call him when all of a sudden, his watch started to buzz. He looked at it and saw the little pixel-y Saruhiko on the screen. He pressed “accept call” after taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“Yata here!” he answered cheerfully. He heard an amused hum on the other side of the line.

“Misaki, want to hang out tonight? I’m off around 6.” Asked Fushimi.

“Yeah sure, did you want to go out for drinks? We can hang out at my apartment after.”

“One drink. A singular drink for me. I don’t do alcohol well” Fushimi sighed.

Yata chuckled in response. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you lightweight. What bar do you want to go to?” There was silence on the other end of the call and Yata questioned if he got hung up on.

“Isn’t HOMRA fine? Kusanagi might even give us a discount” Fushimi said exasperatedly. Yata was confused, he knew how the other felt about the red clan in general

“I guess yeah I figured you wouldn’t want to, so that’s why I asked.” There was a tell-tale tongue click on the other end. “Misaki, I’m not so immature that I’m going to refuse to go to that bar. It’s not what it was for me before. It’s all water under the bridge”. Yata could just imagine Saruhiko pinching the bridge of his nose while saying this. He considered this for a moment and grunted in agreement.

“So I’ll see you around 6:30 at HOMRA then?”

“Obviously.” Then there was a click indicating the call had ended. Yata clicked his tongue in a very Saruhiko fashion. He thinks to himself that he needed to teach him how to end a call properly. Had none of those blues talked to him about it? Now that he thought of it, none of his subordinates would dare say anything, and he didn’t think the blue king or his lieutenant would correct him.

                Feeling excited for the night, he got dressed and ate breakfast. He grabbed his beanie and shoved it on. He grabbed his skateboard and ran outside, flinging his board down and hopping on, kicking off hard to skate to Bar HOMRA. He didn’t notice but he had a big smile on his face the entire ride to HOMRA. He leapt up the front steps and opened the door and waltzed in. Some heads of his clanmates turned to him and he looked around confused.

“What’s up with everyone? Is there something on my face?” he asked gruffly. There was some shifting around, and he glanced at Kusanagi who was behind the bar polishing a glass.

“Yata-chan, you could say that.” Said Kusanagi sounding amused. Yata frowned and walked further into the building and sat down in a barstool next to Anna. She gently placed her teacup down and primly turned to him and smiled.

“You’re happy about something Misaki”. He looked at her and blinked. He was happy, but how could she tell? A couple of the guys came up to the bar and Bandou threw an arm around Yata’s shoulders.

“Oh? Does our Yata have a date? It’s a date, isn’t it?” Chitose nodded to himself looking pleased. Yata was confused about this. He didn’t have a date!

“Aw man, he’s got a date but I’m still single? WHAT GIVES!” whined Bandou. Misaki was getting even more confused. Why would they think he had a date? He was only hanging out with Saruhiko later!

“I don’t have a date, I’m just hanging out with Saruhiko later” he protested. There was even more shifting. He looked at his friends and saw they were nodding looking at each other, agreeing to something unvoiced. Eric started to laugh and said something in English he didn’t understand, but he knew it wasn’t good because Kusanagi chastised him, and he looked away and huffed.

“What is up with you guys? It’s not a date!” Yata was getting really irritated. They were lucky that with the slates gone, calling upon his aura was really hard. Chitose sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you WANT it to be a date? Because I can give you some tips for that. Even that fussy Fushimi will be wrapped around your finger in no time.” What. The. Fuck.

“I don’t need him wrapped around my finger! It’s not like that!” Yata spewed out.

“You had us fooled” Eric said snidely. Yata felt his face heating up. Why did they think he was wanting to date Saru? Sure, if he asked him out he wouldn’t say no but especially back in the day, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do if he asked, and he was sure it was about the same now.

Kusanagi gave him with a pitying look. “Yata-chan, do you have feelings for Fushimi? It seems like you might, but I could be wrong”. If Yata thought his face was heating up before, it was surely red now.

“That’s not the point! That monkey wouldn’t feel that way ever. I think him leaving before and trying to kill me every chance he got proves he doesn’t feel that way!” he protested.

“Yenno Yata, think about it. If he was really trying to kill you, don’t you think he’d have succeeded?” Kusanagi ventured. Yata just looked at him deadpan and denied this.

“Nah, I’m just that good. He’d never be able to.” Everyone just shrugged and went about their business.

                Yata asked if anyone made lunch yet and no one had, so he went to the kitchen to make some stir fry for everyone. He was pleased with himself and it gave him something to do. He dished everything up and once food was divided up, he saved a plate for himself and washed the dishes. He went to eat at the bar and Anna  hopped down from the bar, and tugged at his sleeve.

“Misaki, think about what everyone was talking about” she said gently, and turned to go laydown on the couch for her afternoon nap. He followed after her and sat on the couch, she rested her head on his lap and soon they were both napping. During his nap, Yata dreamed about kissing Saruhiko.

[practically-an-x-man]

Jasper Wilson x Kyle Spencer snippet *for @can-of-pringles who suggested I write my OCs playing Minecraft lol ____

Fandom: AHS Coven, Kyle Spencer x OC

Word count: 921

Warnings: none? just domestic fluff and Jasper failing at video games XD

____

"How do you make glass panes?"

"You want to put glass panes on our dirt house." Kyle deadpanned, giving Jasper a sidelong glance.

"Well, it's not always going to be dirt." he huffed, "And we have the glass."

"When did you make glass?"

"Just now, with the sand from that river we found," he muttered, "Figured we'd need it for the windows."

"We don't even have coal to-" Kyle started, the pixelated chest creaking as he opened it with a click. Sure enough, half of their logs - their house-building logs, he might add - were missing. He couldn't help but sigh, though he was biting back a smile. "Your strategies confuse me, Jazz."

"Heh. I'm just operating on a level you can't even imagine," Jasper fired back, shooting him a broad, teasing smile, "Glass panes on the dirt house. Sounds like a Fall Out Boy song."

"I'm gonna go get more wood, and then we can put glass panes on the oak house instead." he said, navigating his blocky avatar out of their little shack and down to the nearest copse of rectangular trees.

"Oak sucks for building. Get spruce."

"Says the man who was going to let the house be made out of dirt."

"We can't all be engineers."

Kyle laughed under his breath, though he turned his mouse and instead navigated his avatar in a new direction. Computerized snow crunched under his digital feet. As he punched away at a few trees (spruce, of course, as per request), he heard the sound of shattering glass from Jasper's computer a few feet away.

"Aw, fuck, it just broke."

"You didn't know glass doesn't drop?" he asked, fighting hard not to laugh.

"I usually play creative!"

"Just... don't place it down until I get back with the wood." Kyle muttered, felling another few trees and wishing he'd had the sense to build himself an axe before he ran off.

"That's what she said."

"That- what? Jasper, that doesn't even-"

Jasper cackled, not for the joke but his reaction to it. Kyle shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek to suppress his smile. Sometimes he wondered how he'd found this one. In all honesty, he'd have expected his college dating life to involve sorority girls and cheerleaders, like the other guys in his frat - really, he wouldn't have expected to be dating much at all, since his ambitions were mainly focused on getting his degree and getting the hell out of Dodge as fast as he could.

Needless to say, his ambitions had changed.

"Ah!" Jasper squawked, jolting him out of his thoughts, "Fuckfuckfuck- Kyle, I fell in a hole there's a zombie chasing me-"

"What? I thought you were back at the house-" Kyle blurted, blinking in surprise as he wheeled his character back around, "Hang on, I'm coming. Don't die."

"Quickly!"

"I'm coming! Just a second! Where's the hole?" he asked, sprinting a circle around the little dirt shack, "And don't say 'that's what she said'."

"Heh. That is what she said." Jasper laughed, though it was accompanied by the frantic clatter of his keyboard as he tried to outrun his adversaries, "In the house. I was trying to dig for cobble. For the floor."

Kyle nodded, steering his avatar into the shack and finally seeing noticing the hole - a one-block tunnel in the corner of the little room.

"You dug straight down?"

"I usually play creative!" Jasper huffed, "Y'know, where you can just press E and get whatever block you want and you don't have to dig holes in the first place? Ah help me I'm at two hearts-"

"Alright! Alright! I'm coming!" he said, equipping his sword and dropping into the tunnel.

He lost half his health upon landing, the tunnel opening into an underground cave after the first three blocks. His screen was just bright enough for him to see Jasper's avatar hopping in wild circles around the cave, chased by about a dozen hostile mobs. He could see two separate craters where creepers had exploded. Kyle couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Jasper looked up from his computer just long enough to shoot him a dark glare.

Needless to say, they both died. A wooden sword wasn't exactly the best defense for an entire horde of enemies, and Jasper's wild ping-ponging around the screen eventually ended with him falling into another, deeper cave and losing his last two hearts.

Kyle stared at his screen, the gray-tinted Game Over screen staring right back at him. When he glanced over, he found Jasper scowling at his own laptop as if it had personally offended him.

"I lost all my stuff." he grumbled, tapping a few more keys as he respawned, "All my glass for the windows."

"Well, get it back." Kyle said, tilting his chin at the screen and fighting hard to keep a straight face.

Jasper leapt back into the hole, picked up his half-stack of glass blocks, and promptly died. Kyle pressed his fist to his mouth in an attempt to cover his laughter. Jasper rolled his eyes, shoving Kyle's shoulder hard enough that the laptop nearly slid off his lap in the process. He caught it just before it could fall.

"You set me up!"

"Maybe a little." Kyle admitted, "It was funny."

"Not that funny." Jasper muttered, wrinkling his nose at his partner.

"I'll get you more glass." Kyle promised, already spawning his character back into the game, "Just don't go diving into any more caves in the meantime, alright?"

"No promises."

[fictionz]

New Fiction 2024 - August

"2 Machabees" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

We did it! We're out of the Old Testament! Two and a half years and 75% of the Catholic bible complete! Now moving on to: Jesus.

"Helicopter Story" by Isabel Fall (2020)

Brilliantly done, and I'm the kinda dense that wouldn't get it in the first take so that's impressive that I could pick up what the author was throwing down. It's a shame the community couldn't be chill about it.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (2018)

An absolute game changer. It's beyond a different lens of understanding. Everything clicks and Frankenstein isn't the same story afterward.

Frankenstein in Baghdad by Ahmed Saadawi & trans. Jonathan Wright (2013)

Now an assemblage representing the spirit of a place, that's an idea.

Return to Ghost Camp by R.L. Stine (1999)

I, er, huh. No connection to the previous Ghost Camp title, besides a camp as the setting, and a disconnected series of events. These books can get loose with plot but they need to make it up with more outrageous happenings.

The Autobiography of Benjamin Sisko by Derek Tyler Attico (2023)

At first I wasn't feeling the childhood and teen years, but it's an autobiography, of course we need this. And now it's my favorite part. Understanding the man as we came to know him would require understanding who he was in the beginning.

Under the Magician's Spell by R.L. Stine (1996)

The magic of these books is in the bizarro places and monsters that make no narrative sense but make for interesting turns of events.

"For the Anniversary of My Death" by W.S. Merwin (1993)

Wave goodbye.

"Rootin', tootin', toil n' shootin'" by SERENDIPITEAart (2020)

Mashing up genres is the only logical course.

"Worry" by Kiana Khansmith (2024)

They grow up so fast.

"Harlot's Web" by Nicholas Gurewitch & Evan Keogh (2018)

Get the message.

Excuse Me Sir dev. Molly Moonn, Airdorf, Jesse Cox, Torple Dook, Trevor Henderson (2020) (missed this in June)

The mirror could have been the start of something great.

Ultimate Frankenstein vs Evil Necromancer dev. Polo Builder & Aedrine (2020)

The assembly process is as critical as the deed.

Poetry Frankenstein dev. DianeDesign (2023)

But does each new creation differ from its siblings?

Frankenstein Dating Simulator dev. GamerGirlNextDoor (2023)

The most obvious solution should always work.

Frankenstein Dating Simulator dev. lmurray045 (2024)

Always choose the beach.

Frankenstein dev. Unknown (1981)

Assembleman doesn't have the same ring, does it?

Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus dev. willsmartin (2020)

Find me in pieces.

The Frankenstein Place dev. Mandy J Watson (2020)

You don't need to be going up there anyway.

The Ultimate Frankenstein dev. Obre (2023)

About time Elizabeth gets her video game due.

Volume 2 Chapter 2 (Frankenstein Remediation) dev. adamaboelmatty (2023)

Alternate tellings make us feel like we tried our best.

Return to Castle Frankenstein dev. SolarCompost (2023)

Very good vibe.

POV: You Are Felix DeLacey - A Frankenstein Story dev. camkins (2023)

Do you really think he would have chosen differently?

Dr. Frankenstein Creates a Dragon dev. hannahscholtes (2023)

That dragon wouldn't hesitate to burn it all down.

Frankenstein's Assistant dev. samanthag168 (2023)

Love a cute little pixel guy.

Frankenstein's Monster dev. dino niko (2023)

Give him a shot.

Frankenstein's Monsters, Inc. dev. Sam Atkins (2022)

Great tension in this monster business simulator.

Ice Age 2: The Meltdown dev. Eurocom (2006)

The more I ponder it the more I respect the decision to pick the funniest and smallest little guy and make him the star.

Trap dir. M. Night Shyamalan (2024)

Good instincts until it comes time to end the thing, then the explainer within takes over and drags it out.

Kneecap dir. Rich Peppiatt (2024)

It needs to get out of you in some way.

Eighth Grade dir. Bo Burnham (2018)

Part one of this month's teenage cringe. It's incredibly well done and ya gotta have the sense of humor about being 14.

A Place Called Silence dir. Sam Quah (2024)

A methodical approach to ruin.

Cuckoo dir. Tilman Singer (2024)

Ancient things are on the brain lately. Perhaps we need there to be ancient things beyond our control.

Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In dir. Pou-Soi Cheang (2024)

It takes the gritty martial arts drama of previous decades but throws in a high budget style we've gotten since the 00s.

Dark Feathers: Dance Of The Geisha dir. Crystal J. Huang & Nicholas Ryan (2024)

A bit disjointed but I dig its indie aspirations. It reminds me of a lot of smaller productions I'd see in the 80s and 90s.

Dìdi dir. Sean Wang (2024)

This movie's cringe goes hard and I respect it. Too real.

Frankenstein dir. Jed Mercurio (2007)

The bioengineering angle still feels like a stretch. An assemblage at the genetic level is just another genre altogether.

Depraved dir. Larry Fessenden (2019)

Better than anticipated, and a far more nuanced creature than most of the movies I watched recently.

My Penguin Friend dir. David Schurmann (2024)

I had a heck of a time trying to figure out who would be the main villain/obstacle.

Alien: Romulus dir. Fede Alvarez (2024)

Too many strings attached for it to breathe comfortably, but it has its moments.

Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs dir. Carlos Saldanha & Mike Thurmeier (2009)

I don't know that spinning off jokes from the first movie into their own movies was the right approach, but I applaud them for trying. And the cast sure starts to balloon.

Ice Age: Continental Drift dir. Steve Martino & Michael Thurmeier (2012)

The geography of the world is really all over the place.

Ice Age: Collision Course dir. Michael Thurmeier & Galen T. Chu (2016)

The formula is really stressing the limits by now.

Strange Darling dir. JT Mollner (2024)

It's designed to keep you guessing from the get-go, and it mostly pays that off. Just some motivation issues that tripped me up at the end.

Stream dir. Michael Leavy (2024)

Listen, Jeffrey Combs.

Whisper of the Heart dir. Yoshifumi Kondou (1995)

The drama Ghiblis are compelling. The pacing is ponderous and the hints of fantasy few, even though the setting is gorgeous in the Ghibli architecture sorta way. Spinning this off into another movie is even more compelling.

Blink Twice dir. Zoë Kravitz (2024)

Awful dudes being awful, but making it hard to watch was the idea. Should've been an Outer Limits episode #1.

The Wasp dir. Guillem Morales (2024)

You push and push and can't accept the fall.

Slingshot dir. Mikael Håfström (2024)

Spacemen sure do be succumbing to relationship angst. Should've been an Outer Limits episode #2.

Afraid dir. Chris Weitz (2024)

No hope at all, huh? Should've been an Outer Limits episode #3.

The Acolyte (2024)

Cowards. They deserved more than one season. The first season showed a potential that will seemingly now go unrealized.

Night Gallery - Season 3 (1972-1973)

Kind of fizzles out, and it sounds like things were crumbling by that point. But a few stories still had the gusto.

[melodyofthevoid]

“ hey, let me take a look... “ any

(credit to @shmunter for these beans once more)

 “Gah! Damnit-“ 

Unnecessary noise made for a less than good working environment. Now, usually Vex blasted music but apparently that was a “public disturbance” and given that they were currently hosting wanted fugitives (other than themselves) that wasn’t really a “smart idea”. At least according to Fin. Which fine, whatever. They would make do. Vinnie didn’t always appreciate all the thudding bass sometimes so he was enjoying himself and the company. 

Now if their “guests” could actually be quiet for two minutes while Vex worked on disrupting the drones’ communication systems that would be phenomenal. 

“No! Stupid piece of junk…” 

Vex clicked out of their magnified vision to turn towards the open door of their workshop, peering out to see what exactly was making the bounty hunter (what was his name? M- something. Who cared) swear so loudly. Said hunter was hunched over the table, laser focused on something in his hands. Various clicking sounds and pixelated bleeps and bloops raising Vex’s curiosity. 

They pushed away from their desk and walked over, craning around the hunter’s shoulder.

“You better not be calling any of my inventions ‘junk’ Greenie, or you’re going to need a new place to hide.” 

Letting out a shriek, Vex’s target threw the device in the air, pulling out a small pistol before blinking and scrambling up to catch the little handheld. He managed to get a hand on it just before it hit the floor, letting out a small sound of relief. 

“Nice reflexes,” Vex snickered, “that how you catch all your targets?” 

“Bolts- you- that was-“ he stumbled over his words before refocusing, his screen’s optics narrow, “unnecessary. And my name is Milo, not Greenie.”

Vex filed that information away under “things to forget in 5 minutes”. Now that Milo was facing them however, they could get a good look at the mystery device. Which turned out to be far less of a mystery than they expected. 

“Is this… a Jumo?”

Scattered pink flicked at Milo’s cheeks, and he held the device closer. Like when Vinnie got into the scrap pile and didn’t want to show whatever bolt Vex needed from him. 

“What? I mean- I don’t- It’s not really-“

Was this bot capable of a full sentence? Vex snickered, rolling their eyes as the plopped down in the chair next to him.

“Relax hunter, I’m just curious. Haven’t seen one of these out and about for a while. They went under a few orbits back and now it’s whatever Aeigis is putting out. I’m shocked it’s in such good shape.” 

That seemed to put him more at ease, and he set the game system on the table sitting back down and frowning at the screen.

“It’s in good shape yeah, but it’s not loading this code. There’s probably some bug I missed again but I can’t seem to find it. Sorry if I uh- was a bit loud hah…” 

Vex blinked, trying to process the words coming from Milo.

Programmed. Programmed himself. This guy?

They looked him over again, squinting. Searching for any sign of a lie. In the 3 days and counting he’d known Milo (which obviously wasn’t much) the general… vibes Vex got indicated that, respectfully, Milo couldn’t lie for shit. Maybe they were wrong about that, and they very well could be, but with how well cared for the little game pad was? 

What could they say. They were curious. 

“Mhm. Mind if I take a look at it?” 

“You’d… you’d do that? Go ahead but,” Milo voice dropped lower, shy grin turning to a scowl, “don’t add any viruses. I know you’ve hacked the hunter’s system before.” 

Scoffing, Vex scooped up the Jumo and pulled up the code on a screen, using their built in jack to project it. 

“Don’t you worry your little jumpsuit about it Greenie. Look, I’ll even let you watch.” 

Milo let out a slight huff, but accepted the olive branch. He really did give off all the threatening aura of Vinnie during one of the few tantrums the bug threw whenever Vex didn't give the him the attention he wanted.

Patting him on the head might result in a shot in the hand though, and Vex just remodeled recently. They'd hate to waste parts like that.

Lines and lines of code flickered by, and the light bemusement faded into intrigue at the sight in front of them. This was by no means the amateur hour 8-bit pixel on a screen code they'd expected. No, this was an entire game.

A few minor loop issues, variables called where they shouldn't be, but in all, shockingly solid.

Little notes dotted each section, outlining in fair detail the purposes and interlocking mechanisms. Some little jokes to himself and ideas stashed away. A decent UI system all things considered.

Vex set about righting the errors, which only took a few minutes. They'd expected to only take that long before because they'd assumed there'd be nothing here. Competence came as a somewhat pleasant surprise.

Dismissing the screen now, Vex booted up the game, playing through the first level to check their work. The assets for the sprites and what not were rudimentary, some clearly just placeholders, but the mechanics were all there.

A few more tweaks and Vex could possibly see themselves considering letting Vinnie try to play this. He trusted Vin's taste above all others.

After finishing, Vex turned to Milo. The bounty hunter had leaned forward during their playtime, and now that attention was back on him, he'd put up a front of nonchalance. Shoulders laid back in the stiffest way imaginable.

"You really made all of this? The base code and everything?"

“It’s nothing- really! Just a little hobby of mine.”

Now that was a practiced defense if Vex'd ever heard one.

“Is this based off of those old side scroller platformers? Like the one with the minebots?” 

There was no time for false humility, Vex wanted answers. 

It looked like the right call too, Milo brightened up immediately and grinned, previous tension gone. 

“Yeah! I modded those for a long time, and I guess I figured I could… try it myself? It’s still a work in progress but it’s getting there. I think.” 

"It's not too shabby, at least for a first attempt. Keep at it. It'll keep you out of my hair while I'm working too, so win win."

"Whatever. But uh.. thank you. Really."

"You're welcome. Now, I need to get back to making sure you and Illiana don't get your sorry bolts captured by Aegis, so I'll be going. Keep it down if you make any more bugs."

With that, Vex left the room, humming low as they pulled up their own code and got back to it. Slightly resenting that Illiana was right that Milo wasn't all that bad for a bounty hunter. He was… endearing. In an infuriating way.

Sure, Vex might've put a small logic bomb in there, but it was small. Couldn't let him get too comfortable after all.

It'd only flip the sprites upside down anyways.

[smallblip]

You asked, I deliver! Part II of Accidental baby acquisition💖 I lost one of the asks 😩 but anon who asked about baby Udo, I named the baby in your honour! Saddle up cowboys! I’m not good with sequels but here we are-

Babygate:

the scandal that implies that a certain boy band member cheated on his partner (another band member) and had a kid even when the mom was never pregnant.

- urban dictionary

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. Life is definitely picking up. Pieck still sends him excerpts of her dirty fanfiction to proofread, Bertholdt is still doing all he can to “retire at 30”, Annie might have eloped with said boyfriend. But he’s seeing Porco on the regular now, he’s really cute, he’s got a nice ass. Reiner can’t complain.

He’s also recently donated his Levi Ackerman standee. Only because it’s getting increasingly hard to reconcile the fact that he has a life sized cutout of his colleague’s boyfriend in his room.

What he can complain about is said colleague (and friend) dropping bombs on him. He’s one of the moderators of one of the bigger No Name servers. Sometimes he wonders if that’s a conflict of interest because, well, he knows the guy on a first name basis. But today he has other concerns. He sees his notifications blowing up and decides to go on the No Name server. And lo and behold. There’s a paparazzi shot of Levi and Hanji with a stroller taking a walk in a new channel called “MYSTERY FAMILY?”.

He cancels his plans with Porco. “Don’t text me for the next few hours, got a fire to fight.” He clicks send, and feels kinda bad, so he sends Porco really dank meme to appease him. (That doesn’t stop Porco from doing exactly what Reiner told him not to do and demanding an explanation every five minutes).

He forces himself to take a deep breath before texting Hanji-

“Hanji… I don’t mean to be rude but…

WHAT THE FUCK?”

—

So here begins babygate. A conspiracy theory that took the Internet by storm.

“Levi Ackerman had a secret marriage! He was keeping this from us from the start!”

“It’s a publicity stunt to keep No Name relevant during their hiatus!”

“It’s an elaborate scheme by the company to punish Levi for announcing the hiatus without their knowledge!”

“Levi’s mystery partner was sent by the lizard people to take control of his mind and produce half-lizard, half-human hybrid babies to take over the world! What a bitch!” (This is Hanji’s favourite).

And the internet’s favourite- this is all an elaborate scheme to cover up the scandalous love affair between Levi and Eren- the band’s guitarist.

“What the fuck?” Levi had said during dinner once, to which Reiner had to swallow his food and pretend he never read or actively looked up ereri content. Yes. Reiner knows the name of their ship.

Levi hadn’t been too worried before, but when pictures of them shopping for baby stuff leaked online, something snaps. Something snaps and Erwin tells him he needs more time to figure out the biggest PR crisis in No Name history.

It’s Levi. Levi is the PR crisis.

So in the meantime, no shock reveals, no more social media, (if possible) no more leaving the house with pregnant girlfriend in tow. “Don’t do ANYTHING.” Erwin had said, “especially not you!” Erwin had directed that at Eren, who suggested he makes an announcement. Erwin shudders. He remembers all the past scandals they got themselves into just because Eren, bless him, didn’t know when to shut up.

“I’m sorry…” Levi says to Hanji when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching a documentary on whale migration.

“Huh?” Hanji says, voice muffled through her incessant sniffling because “whales are delivered tail first, Levi! They wear their mothers like hats!”

He apologises for putting her through the mess that is him and his job. And Hanji smiles at him. He wonders if their kid will look like her. He’s hoping they would.

“Levi…” Hanji sighs, taking his face in her hands, “that night at the bar I thought to myself ‘this man has a face I would risk it all for’… I think this counts within the realms of ‘all’”

Levi scoffs, but a smile is threatening the corners of his lips. Erwin’s nagging over the phone fades a little and he sinks a little lower into the couch. He sighs one more time for good measure before saying-

“So… you wanna know which my favourite babygate theory is?”

—

“And you’re really not bothered by all this?” Reiner asks, in an emergency meeting that he had scheduled into her calendar. He hates that he’s packing things into her already busy schedule when she’s about to pop but, he figures it’s better now than when the baby’s actually out. He had booked a meeting room and everything, figuring if he projected some of the crazy shit they’re saying on the fan boards up on screen, Hanji would start taking this seriously. Because if Reiner knows anything, it’s that the fans will do anything to keep their ship afloat.

He scrolls past another post on the lizard people and Hanji gets him to pause.

“I mean… A little?” Hanji pinches her fingers together.

“Hanji…” Reiner sighs, “you and Levi discuss and rate babygate conspiracy theories you find online I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all…”

Hanji looks at Reiner- an absolute state of panic. And she considers panicking for a moment. She’s read articles dissecting babygate and although they’re absolutely batshit, Hanji appreciates how well-researched they are. Which is a little scary. To be fair to Levi, he’s been trying to get her to worry. “I can’t keep you safe all the time, you have to be careful” like he’s going off to war somewhere. But it’s not in Hanji nature to worry about things like this. She’s a researcher at a lab who lived an ordinary life up until the point the universe hit her with a-

Sike! Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy! What are you gonna do about it?

And now she knows what headcanons and lemons are, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. So Hanji decides, she’ll do nothing. She’ll go on indulgently long walks Levi in tow, she’ll talk his ear off about work. And like a good girlfriend, she’ll listen to his demos (and enjoy them) and tell him “are you sure anger rhymes with danger?”.

“I don’t really know how to worry about anything beyond our samples getting contaminated…” Hanji says, sheepish. Reiner sighs. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket on Hanji’s life. He wants to be fun Reiner. Cool as a cucumber. Reiner who manages to make it through dinner at Hanji’s without having to excuse himself to hyperventilate in her bathroom because Levi is right there. And he’s so afraid that he might just be able to read his mind and find out he had looked up Levi Ackerman x y/n fanfiction once in his foolish youth (youth being approximately four months back)

Reiner shudders.

“Yeah okay… That’s um… That’s cool… Right?” He says.

Hanji shrugs.

—

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what?

You go into labour of course, with a matter of fact- “oh. Look Levi. The water broke.” All while refusing to leave the house until you demolish that amazing sandwich he made for you. You go into labour and you yell and grunt like a beast as you squeeze the life out of your baby daddy because he kinda deserves it. You both kinda deserve this pain. Take it as heavenly punishment for being horny and stupid if you will.

And in the middle of it Hanji thinks huh, this feels like a mix of a reality TV show from MTV and a badly written fanfiction. Except Hanji isn’t a teen mom and she’s too old for self-insert fiction that involves a lead singer of a popular band.

But Levi is here, and he doesn’t complain one bit even though he looks like he’s about to pass out. So as far as drunken one night stands go- this is pretty damn aspirational.

The baby enters the world with a huge cry.

“Kid’s got a huge set of lungs…” Levi says, but his own voice is quivering.

“Just like her dad…” Hanji smiles.

As he watches Hanji fall asleep with their baby on her chest, Levi thinks fuck it. Fuck keeping this under wraps. Fuck the fans and them enjoying how Eren gets on his nerves. Fuck Erwin and his “Levi. You’re giving me a headache. You are the cause of this headache.” Because the baby has Hanji’s nose and his eyes and he loves them more than anything in the world.

He snaps a picture of them and tags bigdaddyzoë-

“Welcome to the world, my love.”

—

Reiner can’t help the tears that well in his eyes after seeing the picture Hanji had sent him of the baby-

“He says hi to his favourite uncle!” Was the caption, and Reiner could only reply with a crying cat meme and an incoherent text that Hanji favourites.

He’s on the bus on the way to the hospital when his phone buzzes incessantly. It’s Porco.

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK.”

“LEVI ACKERMAN IS HANJI ZOË’S BABY DADDY?”

“HANJI ZOË MY PHD SUPERVISOR?”

“LEVI ACKERMAN OF NO NAME?”

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK?”

He sends a reply at the entrance of the hospital-

“Welcome to my world”

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. He’s one of the moderator of one of the bigger No Name servers, so he can block and remove people at his discretion. Some days he lets it get to his head. It makes him feel like a king. But today, he’s putting out fires.

Erwin decided their PR strategy was absolutely no strategy, because “they’re zooming in on the pixels Levi. Once they doubt the pixels, they won’t believe anything we’re saying”. With that. Babygate has officially taken on a life of its own. Eren still sends Levi babygate articles to annoy him, and to Hanji because she asked very nicely. Hanji thinks Erwin’s strategy makes sense, Levi thinks it’s just lazy. But Erwin framed a certificate that says “survived a PR crisis (sort of)” that Hanji had insisted be hung up on their wall, so that closes one chapter. Besides, Eren has been spotted going out on dates with a mystery girl. Which has the double effect of diverting attention away from Levi and exacerbating babygate because “see? Told you the company’s doing all they can to prove they’re not together!”

“Can’t you keep it in your pants?” Levi had thrown at Eren, to which he had responded cleverly with a-

“Could’ve said the same for you!”

Touché…

“See? That can’t be Levi! Look at how he’s smiling!”

“That can’t be a baby! Looks like an animatronic to me!”

“Do they even make animatronics that realistic?”

Reiner pins his “no slander” rule- one day they’ll get it. Or at least he would’ve gotten rid of all the people that don’t.

“Who’s this bigdaddyzoë anyway?”

“Maybe she isn’t real? Company probably invented her…”

“Heard she’s a crazy groupie who got knocked up…”

“Heard she’s hot…”

… several people are typing

—

“So… I heard from Reiner you were defending my honour in the server?” Hanji quirks an eyebrow.

Levi shrugs. Whatever goes down in the server stays between Leviackerman173810 (leviackerman and all 173809 permutations of said username had already been taken) and the hundreds of people who haven’t quite figured out he’s the real deal. Besides, Erwin has issued him three warnings so it’s best to lay low for now.

“My hero…” Hanji chuckles, pressing a kiss on Levi’s head. Below them, baby Udo wriggles and yawns against the fabric of Levi’s shirt. Cute.

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what? You look at your son and know he’s going to break hearts like his father of course. And if you’re Levi, you pray to god he never asks about babygate because Hanji has read up enough about it to be considered a connoisseur.

One day the internet will break when they find out the identity of bigdaddyzöe. But for now baby Udo has his parents wrapped around his tiny fingers and he doesn’t quite understand the concept of him being the spawn of every typical band member x y/n fanfiction. Or the centre of a very popular, very absurd, yet strangely believable internet conspiracy theory. Or the canon plot that has sunk one of the biggest No Name ships. And that’s okay.

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless. 

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm. 

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour. 

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start. 

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it. 

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it. 

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults. 

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves. 

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something. 

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through. 

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything. 

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship. 

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away. 

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed. 

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born. 

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings. 

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts. 

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up. 

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer. 

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone. 

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name. 

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life. 

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy. 

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated. 

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear. 

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility. 

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Faded

Averykedavra prompt: okay, first of all, can I be added to your taglist? I love your fics! secondly, if you're open to prompts (apologies if you're not) could you write some logan-centric hurt/comfort? with roman and maybe Virgil comforting him? no pressure, but thanks!! and again your fics are absolutely incredible

Thanks for the prompt babe you’re an icon ^_^

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Logan’s not feeling so great, so self-doubt, self-esteem issues, all that jazz

Pairings: depending on how you want to read it, logince, analogical, possible prinxiety, analogince, or just hella platonic. My aro ass doesn’t know anymore you choose

Word Count: 4237

When a Side's role is disregarded, their door fades from the hallway.

Logan...do the others really need Logan?

Or just Logic?

 “Neato! So you're making your little factoids optional this time around.”

 Thank Archimedes the little pixelated boxes didn’t allow for much dynamic character interaction.

 Logan swallows and tries to keep going, growing more concerned that the lump in his throat would make it impossible to speak. But he can do this. For Thomas, he can do this. He has to.

 “Oh, I’ve got this one, guys!”

 ‘IGNORANT’ flashes up in front of him in big, red letters. Almost immediately he can hear the scoldings of Thomas and Patton followed by Roman’s mumbled apology but it’s too late. The word sears itself into his brain and he can’t see anything other than the choice that they’ve made.

 He swallows again. Alright. He’ll speak directly to the audience. Thomas has to listen to them eventually, doesn’t he?

 …well, maybe, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting every time he pops up with something and it’s completely ignored. He tries to appeal to Patton’s sense of humor. He tries to give Roman something when he can’t find the right words. He tries to give Thomas something, anything.

 Then he gets overexcited and pushes Patton into the blinds.

 The second Roman’s sword flashes out and slices him neatly in two a searing bolt of pain spreads to his arms, to his chest, to his throat. He knows logically—he knows everything logically—he can’t be hurt by that. It isn’t him. He is not connected in any way physically to these lowdowns.

 So why are his hands shaking?

 This is so ridiculous. He is Logic. He should not be working like this, he should not be reacting like this. This is logically the next step, he must simply not be out of the adjustment process yet. Which is ridiculous in and of itself, has he not mentioned several times over that the presence of the others imbeds Thomas’s ability to think rationally and calmly about the issues they have to face? Has he not himself wondered that if he were not so…undone by being in the same room that he finds it difficult to keep going when he needs to? Shouldn’t this be better?

 “You know I'm- I'm not doing a really great job explaining this philosophy. Um, Logan?”

 Patton? Logan pops up.

 Patton smiles—smiles?—at him as the box appears at the bottom of the screen. From this angle, he can’t see Roman or Thomas. What’s happening? Why hasn’t he been paying better attention?

 Why can’t he focus?

 “What would a real philosopher think about what I'm saying here?”

 Oh. Oh, no. This isn’t going to be good, is it?

 “Well, Frederich Nietzsche really wouldn't have been thrilled with anything you've had to say, primarily because pity seems to be at the center of your idea of ‘putting good into the world.’”

 “Th-that's not what—“

 “Nietzsche famously rejected the notion that pity was a virtue.”

 “Okay,” comes the quiet mumble that, really, should’ve told him to stop talking now, he wasn’t being useful anymore.

 But no. Logan was never very good at being quiet, now was he?

 “He once claimed that pity ‘runs counter to the instincts that preserve and enhance the value of life…’”

 Last chance, Logan, something in his head whispers as something else flashes in the corner of his vision.

  ‘Skip all.’

 But they would never do that, right? They knew, somewhere, because Thomas knew, that you had to listen to Logic. You had to listen, at some point, because if you didn’t, what did you have? They would shake their heads or grumble in annoyance, or cut him off when he’d been talking for too long or ask him to be quiet, but they’d never skip him entirely, cut him out of the conversation, would they?

 Patton’s finger presses the button and something of unyielding cold wraps around Logan’s neck.

 He flails as it yanks, jerking back awake with his eyes open, out of the boxes, out of the video, at his desk, staring at the screen as his lowdown program blocks him out.

 No.

 No!

 What happened? Why did they—is he—can he—

 Why didn’t they want to listen?

 Logan’s fingers fly over the keyboard in front of him, searching desperately for an answer. Maybe he programmed this wrong. Admittedly he’s a little new at programming so he could’ve messed something up that disconnected him. Maybe Patton clicked it by mistake. Why was there even a ‘skip all’ button to begin with? He doesn’t remember programming that. And what was it that wrapped around his throat?

 His hand goes to his neck at the mere memory of the horrible thing that yanked him out. He winces when his fingers slide of patches of warm, inflamed skin. It…it actually hurt. It left a mark.

 What—

 The instant his lowdown pops up with his face, he knows.

 It shouldn’t hurt. Really. This shouldn’t hurt.

 Now perhaps Deceit could see what it was like to be Logic. Or at least to try and be Logic.

 Now perhaps…perhaps he may have someone to talk to.

 No.

 Deceit was, in fact, far better at being Logic. Within an instant, he’d gotten the conversation to his side, gotten the others to listen, to think about what they were saying instead of just following on blind faith.

 Of course.

 Because it wasn’t Logic they didn’t want to listen to, was it?

 It was Logan.

 Logan closes his eyes. Alright. He can adapt to this. He can…he can work with this. He just has to figure out how.

 He turns away from the computer, stands, and carefully makes his way across his room to the nightstand, where the emergency first-aid kit sits tucked in the drawer. He will patch himself up, best he can, and then figure out what to do.

 He’s too distracted to hear Roman’s terrified shout.

  “What have you done with Logan?”

———————————————————

A few hours after filming stops, there’s a very soft knock on Logan’s door. He doesn’t move from his desk, nor does he pause in his typing. False sympathies and empty comforts have never been very appealing.

 …and he is just the slightest bit worried that he won’t be able to resist the urge to slam the door in Patton’s face.

 Footsteps moving away sound from outside. Good. It’s better this way, isn’t it?

 The lowdowns didn’t work. Well, they did…but they worked a little too well, didn’t they? Instead of being less invasive, they just…cut Logan’s contributions out entirely. They let Logan be taken. They were good for Logic, not Logan.

 Logan’s head turns to the wall where he has two lists tacked up. Standing, the desk chair scraping behind him, he picks up the marker.

 His job is to be Logic. Therefore, if he is failing at that job, he must find a way to be better.

 The list on the left has ‘LOGIC’ written in large, block letters. On the right, ‘LOGAN.’ Isolating the key characteristics of each concept will help to shift himself properly into the role he must play. Logan’s eyes scan down the ‘LOGIC’ list.

 LOGIC:

Emotionless

Useful

Rational

Necessary

Welcome

 The end of the word ‘welcome’ is smeared. Logan looks down at the marker. His hands had shaken so much as he added that last word…why? It was true; logic should be welcome in any conversation, that’s why is it so useful, that’s why it has so many of the other characteristics that it has. Logic should be wanted, regardless of the subject matter, because of what it could do. It had felt so small of Logan to add the word, even when it was the correct course of action. Was it not implied by the others that it should be wanted?

 That…that he should be wanted?

 Unconsciously, Logan twists the cap of the marker back and forth as his eyes dart over to the ‘LOGAN’ list.

 LOGAN:

Irritating

Invasive

Emotional

Easily dismissed

Unwanted

 If he had any doubts about whether or not these qualifications were inaccurate, each had cemented their place on this list after today.

 Logan’s hand flies to his neck again, grazing over the bandages he’d wrapped around himself, only to stutter to a halt when his fingers met the fabric of his tie.

 His tie.

 Hadn’t—he’d—he’d been so sure he’d been doing this right. He dressed well, he spoke carefully, he did his research, why—why was it so easy for them to say he was—to think of him as—

 …why didn’t they want to listen to him?

 He tried. He tried so hard to be what they wanted, what they would listen to, to appeal to each and every one of them to make sure he was still fitting in enough to be heard. Logic had to be heard, that’s one of its most important qualifications.

 As his fingers fumble and catch around the knot, it pulls taut and for a moment he’s thrown back into the feeling of Deceit’s crook around his neck.

 Oh.

 Oh, that’s right…he…Deceit—or, well, Janus, now—didn’t he...he was…Logic isn’t the problem.

 Janus’s Logic made them listen. Janus’s logic made them pay attention. Janus’s Logic was wanted.

 Logan’s fingers slide off his tie in a numb haze.

 His hand falls limply to his side.

 He stares at the lists.

  Irritating.

  Invasive.

  Emotional.

  Easily dismissed.

 There is a reason none of these qualifications have come up when he considers pure Logic.

 A wave of cold rushes over Logan. His knees wobble. His hand staggers out for something, anything to grab onto, to hold, to stop himself from collapsing under the weight of what he just realized, to stop it, to stop it, to stop—

 He hits the ground with a thud.

 The words beat into his head over and over as he lies there, frozen, cold, so cold, curled up by his bed with something wrapped tightly around his throat and his glasses staying stubbornly on his face so the words remain in perfect focus.

 It is not Logic that is the problem.

 The others can use Logic.

 The others can listen to Logic.

 The others can want Logic.

 They just don’t want Logan.

 Logan curls closer around himself as it starts to become very, very cold. That…this can’t be right, he must be missing something. He’s emotionally compromised right now, he’s not any good at being Logic, maybe—maybe that means he’s doing it wrong, he has to be doing this wrong, there’s no way they could—they need him, don’t they? They need Logan, they have to listen to him, they—they—

 Unbidden, a whine escapes Logan’s throat. It burns as it rings around his empty, cold room. He covers his face with his hands.

 Even his cheeks feel icy cold.

 Someone will notice, he tries frantically, someone will notice if I never show up again, someone will notice if I—if—if—

 But they didn’t notice. Not today.

 Not until it was too late.

 Outside, in the corridor, a dark blue door begins to fade into the wall.

———————————————————

“Logan? Logan!”

  Bam, bam, bam.

  “Logan!”

 Frantic hammering against the door jolts him awake. Immediately he winces as something in his neck catches. How—how long has he been like this?

 “Logan, please, open the door, we—we can’t open it!”

 Oh…the others have noticed…should go open the door.

 Wincing again, Logan rights himself, sitting up with his back leaning against the bed, blinking through his fuzzy glasses. Why are they so filthy?

 …oh, he must’ve been crying.

 How emotional.

 “Logan? Logan can you at least say something?”

 “I’m gonna break this door down.”

 “No!”

 Well, yes, Logan does not want his door broken down. Groaning, he stands, making his way over to the door that—wait.

 Why…why is his door so…pale?

 The knob looks almost translucent as he reaches for it, his pulse hammering as his fingers close gently around where it should be. He takes a deep breath and carefully, carefully, turns it.

 “Logan, thank god, I—“ Virgil cuts himself off with a choked gasp as he stares at Logan. “…L? What…what happened to you?”

 “What do you mean?” The instant it comes out of his mouth he knows what Virgil means. He sounds like his throat is actively attempting to cut itself off with every breath.

 A choked whine comes from behind Virgil. Logan’s eyes dart over to see Roman a sickly pale, staring at Logan, horrified.

 “…S-specs? Specs, I—Logan, oh, no, can I—can we—“ Roman reaches for him, only to freeze and quickly pull back his hand.

 Another wave of cold settles over Logan and his hand falls through the doorknob.

 “Logan,” Virgil murmurs, “can we come in, please? I, uh, we wanna talk to you for a moment.”

  Why would you want to talk to me?

 “…of course.” Logan steps aside and lets them pass, looking down at his hand.

 It’s still a hand, but it looks…thinner. He can tell where it isn’t, if that makes sense.

  When has Logan ever made sense?

 Virgil sits down on the floor, next to his bed. Roman hovers near the door, wringing his hands together as Logan carefully pushes the door closed.

 “I’m sorry, Logan.”

 Logan’s eyes widen as his head jerks around to face Roman. Roman gives him what may be the smallest smile he’s ever seen before taking a deep breath.

 “I’m sorry,” he says again, the sincerity making the cold burn in Logan’s chest, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It—it was stupid of me to press the ‘ignorant’ button and it was not my intention to hurt you. And I...slashing your box was wrong too. I just saw Patton get hurt and I—”

 He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. 

 "I'm sorry, Logan," he repeats, softer this time, "for all that I have done to hurt you. I want to be better about it."

 Oh. “…thank you, Roman,” Logan says carefully, “I appreciate your apology.”

 Roman gives him a nod. Logan looks at Virgil, whose head still rests against the bed, staring at the two of them.

 “Is this what you wanted to discuss?”

 “Sort of, but…uh, Logan, you…you’re not looking so great, bud.” Virgil shifts, looking to Roman, who nods and takes a seat on the floor too, leaving a space between them. “Will you come sit with us?”

 “…of course.”

 Logan sits gingerly between the two of them, his gaze fixed on the outlet in the wall opposite them. He hears the rustling of fabric as Virgil shifts, and sees a little white in the corner of his eye as Roman scoots a tad closer.

 “So,” Virgil murmurs after a second, “I guess this video was…hard.”

 Roman huffs quietly. Logan nods. “Yes.”

 “Can you tell me what happened?”

 “Have the others not already told you?”

 “I’d like to hear it from you too.”

 Logan takes a deep breath, ignoring the way the cold burns the inside of his lungs. “I attempted to implement a new strategy for how I interact with you and the viewers. Instead of appearing in person, I chose to use a series of lowdowns so the information would appear in a non-invasive way.”

 There’s a moment of silence.

 “…keep going, L.”

 “They were…not as well-received as I had anticipated.”

 A flash of movement and a stifled noise make him look over. Roman fiddles with the hem of his sleeve right in front of his mouth, obviously having cut himself off. He glances over.

 “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “I didn’t want to interrupt. Please, continue.”

 “I, er…” Logan swallows, something about the movement of Roman’s fingers holding his focus captive. “I hurt Patton.”

 From his other side comes a sharp intake of breath. Logan looks away.

 “I hurt Patton. I could not do my job properly. I had compromised the conversation. A ‘skip all’ button appeared and…”

 “Patton pressed it,” Virgil finishes when Logan doesn’t speak, “he told me.”

 Logan doesn’t say anything. The crook manifests around his throat again and he shudders.

 “…Logan,” Roman’s worried voice says, even as it sounds like it’s coming from underwater, “Logan, did…what did that do to you?”

 “Janus,” Logan croaks, “he—his staff, it—I—“

 “Hey, hey,” Virgil croons, reaching for the hands that tug persistently at his collar, at his bandages, when did they get there?— “don’t do that, L, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop that…”

 “Logan, can I hold your hand, please?”

 Logan lets Virgil tug his hands away from his neck. It—why—what’s happening?

 Why are Virgil’s hands so warm?

 Judging by Virgil’s expression, he’s as concerned about the stark difference in temperature as Logan is. Several emotions flit across his face before Logan can name them until they both register Roman’s question. Roman holds his hand out, all but pleading for Logan to let him.

 “Please,” he whispers, his hand starting to tremble, “please, Logan, may I…can I just hold your hand?”

 “Why are you so worried,” Logan wants to ask, “what is it that makes you so insistent about holding my hand?”

 Instead, when his voice is barely about a strangled whisper and his first attempt makes his hand phase completely through Roman’s, the question emerges as a stifled scream.

 “Shh, shh,” Roman whispers, moving in as close as he can, trying to curl his hands around where Logan’s should be, “it’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll—we’ll figure it out, Logan, we’ve got you, it’s okay—“

 Roman burns.

 “R-ro—“

 “Easy, Roman,” Virgil mutters from behind him, “take it easy, you’re gonna freak us all out.”

 “I know, I know.” Roman clutches the air of Logan’s hand tightly. “Okay…okay, Specs, we gotta…we’re gonna take some deep breaths, okay?”

 No, no, it hurts when Logan does that, what’s…

 He does as bid. The air whines in protest as he slowly breathes in and out, in and out, focusing on Roman’s thumb rubbing small circles into his hand. Roman seems to calm a little as he watches, bringing Logan’s hand close enough to cradle it in his lap as they breathe.

 “Good,” Virgil manages, still clutching Logan’s other hand tightly, his own voice shaking slightly, “okay, now we’re all just gonna calm down, yeah? Just…nice and calm…”

 Logan has no idea how long they sit there, on the floor, only that after a few more deep breaths, it no longer hurts. Roman’s hand no longer burns, it’s just warm. Virgil no longer trembles, he’s just there.

 “My apologies,” he manages, “I did not mean to be so…inconvenient.”

 Roman’s cry of protest is quickly accompanied by: “hey, no, none of that, Logan, you’re not being inconvenient. It’s been a hard day for all of us.”

 “But was I not—“

 “No,” Roman interrupts gently, “I’m sorry for interrupting, but…no, Logan. Nothing that happened today was your fault. Absolutely nothing.”

 “…I’m the one who hurt Patton.”

 “That was an accident and you didn’t know it was going to do that,” Roman says firmly, “and it was our fault we didn’t listen to you. So much that you felt that was your only option.”

 Logan swallows. “…what about Janus?”

 “What about him,” Virgil prompts, “the fact that he…came into the video?”

 “It was my lowdowns that enabled him to do so.”

 “And we pressed the ‘skip all’ button,” Roman says. “And I’m the one who gave him tips on how to impersonate the rest of us better.”

 Roman is right, even as Logan begins to feel cold again. Still, he opens his mouth.

 “I…I’m not…I can’t…it…”

 “Logan,” Roman says quietly when Logan can’t seem to find the words, “none of us are angry with you. I’m certainly not angry with you, and I’m…I’m sorry about everything that I may have done and have done to give you the impression that I do not hold you in the highest esteem possible.”

 Logan’s mouth drops open in shock.

 “I think you overdid it a little there, Princey,” Virgil chuckles.

 “But it’s true,” Roman insists, still cradling Logan’s hand in his lap, “Logan, you’re…you’re so important. And if I have done anything that makes you think I don’t care so much about you, then I…I will do everything I can to fix this.”

 What?

  What?

 “You…but we..we fight,” Logan manages weakly, “all the time, you…you disagree with me every chance you get, how—“

 “I told you on movie night,” Roman says, the corner of his mouth tugging up, “I poke fun at the things I love.”

  Love.

 Logan’s brain stutters to a pause.

 “You’re my family, Logan,” Roman continues, oblivious to the fact that Logan.exe has stopped functioning, please try again later, “and I…you are so clever, so sharp, so good that of course I want to talk to you about things. I respect your opinion so much and I want to hear everything.”

 “Yeah, if you ever stop teaching us stuff I might actually start crying and never stop.”

 “Virgil!”

 “What, like you’re any better?”

 “Of course not! I would be devastated!”

 “Wait, wait,” Logan mumbles, “you—you what?”

 “L,” Virgil calls softly, still chuckling a little as Logan turns to look at him, “L, we care about you so much. We wanted to give you space, especially after today, but…dude, you know we need you, don’t you?”

 “You need Logic,” Logan mumbles, “you…of course you need Logic.”

 “We do,” Roman confirms as the cold threatens to open up in Logan’s chest again, “but we also love Logan.”

 “You have got to stop throwing that word around,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re gonna send him into a full-blown freak-out.”

 “But we do, Virgil. We do love him, so much, and if he doesn’t know that…”

 Roman squeezes a surprisingly solid hand in his lap.

 “…then we have to remind him.”

 Virgil huffs, scooting closer. “Yeah, well, that’s easy enough.”

 No, no, it very much is not.

 Logan’s brain is still struggling to come to grips with the first thing Roman said, about poking fun at the things he loves. He hasn’t come close to tackling the fact that Roman just said they loved him.

 And Virgil agreed.

 “This…this doesn’t make sense,” Logan says weakly, “this doesn’t make sense.”

 “What doesn’t make sense?” Virgil’s hand is a warm weight against his side. “That we love you?”

 “…y-yes?”

 “Oh, sweetheart,” Virgil murmurs, “what makes you so convinced that you’re unlovable?”

 “I…I can’t…I am emotionally compromised. I cannot do my job properly. I will not be as useful as you—“

 “Do you need to be useful to be lovable?”

 “Don’t you?”

 “No,” he says firmly, pressing Logan between the two of them, “no, you don’t, Logan. We love you for you, not for what you can do.”

 “Don’t leave us, Logan.” The sheer amount of pain in Roman’s voice aches. “Not because you think we won’t want you.”

 A horrible laugh bubbles up in his throat. “And here I thought you were going to leave me.”

 “Never,” Roman promises, “never.”

 “We did threaten to break down your door because it was starting to fade from the hallway.”

 “…I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

 “You don’t need to know right now, we’ll help you.”

 “I don’t know how good I’m going to be at this.”

 “We’re all working on things, it’s okay.”

 “But I—“ Logan swallows heavily— “I don’t know if I can stop believing that I…that it is just Logic you want and not Logan.”

 “If it makes you feel any better,” Roman calls, squeezing his hand, “I still struggle with that too.”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “You what?”

 “Believe that you only keep me around as long as I make things that you think are useful?” Roman smiles sadly. “Yeah.”

 “But you’re—you—Thomas would not be able to exist without you!”

 “Wouldn’t he?”

 “No! It’s not just—Roman, you’re so much more than Creativity, if you weren’t here, we…” Logan takes a deep breath and swallows. “Something would truly be lost if you weren’t here.”

 He stops.

 “…oh.”

 “Yeah, Specs,” Roman whispers, “‘oh.’”

 “…oh.”

 “Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, opening his arms and letting Logan fall into his embrace, “don’t you leave us, okay?”

 Virgil drapes himself over them, wrapping his arms tightly around Logan’s waist. “We’ll figure it out, L, but you gotta stick around, okay? Don’t—well, try not to worry about whether or not you’re being the perfect Logic. We want you.”

 “…promise?”

 “I promise.”

 “I promise too,” Roman murmurs, letting Logan rest against his chest, “now why don’t we all get into something more comfortable and we can have another look at your neck?”

 “Yes. That sounds…good.”

 “And Logan?” Logan cranes his head up to look. “If you ever stop teaching us things and telling me about stuff I will start crying.”

 Despite everything, Logan smiles.

 “Don’t worry,” he says quietly, the chill finally beginning to thaw, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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[ofhoneyandrosepetals]

Bright as Red [3]

Pairing: Yata Misaki x reader

Description: Reader is left on the streets in a severe situation, being found by Totsuka Tatara, who gets to himself the responsability to help and heal the girl in HOMRA’s headquarters. When she wakes up, she’s led by the wanting to seek for revenge, going after who’s hurt her.

Warnings: only swears.

Word count: 2,552.

As soon as Yata and Y/N entered the bar, Kusanagi’s eyes went directly to Y/N’s backpacks.

“I thought you took a walk,” he said, plain. “What’s all of this with you?”

Before Yata could start telling the truth, Y/N said upfront.

“As we were walking I had the idea of… go to my house. Take some clothes. See… what’s left.”

Kusanagi stared at Y/N, and she couldn’t tell what he could possibly be thinking.

“Shitty idea, I know. But it was stronger than me. I was lucky I had Yata-san by my side.”

Yata’s cheeks burned in deep red. Kusanagi took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I assume nothing happened, right?” Both motioned negatively. “Just never do that again. At least not without consulting us. Something bad could’ve happened.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Kusanagi-san,” Y/N apologized and bowed.

“Just get outta here,” Kusanagi dismissed both of them with a wave of his hand. “Yata-chan, show Y/N the room she can stay in. It’s the one at the end of the hallway. You know which.”

“Sure.”

That whole afternoon spent with Y/N wasn’t enough to make Yata feel less nervous at her presence. He was very much conscious of her walking behind him, following him into stairs and corridors.

“My own room, huh? That’s cool,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” he didn’t really know what to say. “Most of us were taken out of the streets, so we didn’t have a place to stay.”

“So you all live here together,” it wasn’t a question. “I only wonder how’s that.”

“What you mean?” Yata asked as he stopped at the right door, just in front of his own room. Kusanagi was fucking around, right? He could only be joking when he assigned the available room in front of Yata’s to Y/N. The boy was a pile of nerves at the single thought of her sleeping so close to him.

“It gotta be cool,” she shrugged.

“I guess it is. Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass. But it’s never boring.”

“Cool. I need distractions,” she said as she stared at her own feet.

“What are you going to do about… you know,” Yata pointed with his chin at her backpack while he opened the door.

 “I need a computer to take a look at them. Do you know where we could get one?”

They entered the room, Yata putting her backpack that he carried on the bed. She took a look at the room.

“We could ask if Akagi could borrow his. He’s pretty cool and won’t ask many questions.”

“Cool,” she sat on the bed with a deep sigh.

“Are you… are you okay?” Yata asked, worried. She nodded.

“It was a lot, you know?” Yata nodded once. “I can only wonder what kinda intel these hard drives have. Is that Akagi guy good with computers?”

“He is. A lot of guys here actually are.”

“Are you good too?”

“Oh, I know how to do some stuff, yeah,” Yata scratched the back of his head. “But these guys are better than me. I’m focused on other things, anyway.”

“I see. I’m not a pro myself, but I know my way around. I’m only asking in case I come across some difficulties.”

“Akagi could help you. He would… keep your secret.”

“I don’t want this to be a secret, but I’m also not ready to share it. I know it’s important for you guys to know who did this to me, and why, but… I don’t wanna say anything about the hard drives I found, at least not yet. If they contain any good intel, perfect. But if not… then I want this to be my thing.”

“It’s understandable,” some seconds of silence have passed before Yata could say anything else. “I’m gonna give you some space. And find Akagi. Cool?”

“Cool. Thanks, Yata-san.”

The boy blushed a little before he left the room, closing the door behind him, her little smile fresh on his memory.

Accompanied by Akagi, Yata knocked on her door three times. When nothing happened, he decided to announce it was only him, stuttering a little at the end.

“Come on in,” her soft voice said.

“I brought Akagi…” Yata cut himself off when he opened the door.

Y/N was lying on the bed, her head falling from the border, her hair touching the floor.

“You guys are upside down,” it was all she said. Yata frowned.

“No wonder,” Akagi said.

“I just needed to think, sorry. Help?” Y/N extended her hands, to no one in particular, though her eyes were at Yata. Akagi elbowed the boy so he could take Y/N’s hands.

“Yeah, sure,” Yata stuttered, cheeks turning slightly pink.

“So, what do you have for me?” She asked.

“The computer,” Akagi handed her a laptop, which she placed on the bed and, beneath a pillow, took the hard drive. “Wow, where’d you find these?”

“At my house. I think it could contain something about what happened to my parents or about who did it…” Y/N suddenly stopped talking as well as moving. “I think we should go somewhere public. What if I can access something and things just go sideways?”

“We could take the van,” Akagi suggested. “Work there.”

“Without Kusanagi-san knowing? He almost beat the two of us for just going to her house without saying a word, imagine what he’ll do now,” said Yata.

“I think I’ll tell him, then,” Y/N said. Yata locked his eyes on her.

“You don’t need to. We can work this out…”

“I know I don’t need to, but I already said I didn’t want this to be a secret. It’s just…”

“If it was nothing you wanted to keep it to yourself. Plus you didn’t want to create a whole thing out of it for nothing,” Yata completed. “I know, Y/N.”

Her heart skipped, for a second only, when she heard the boy with the skateboard say her name so softly.

“So… what do we do?” Akagi asked, feeling something in the air that didn’t include him.

“It’s up to you,” Yata said to Y/N as he looked at his own feet.

“I’ll tell the bartender.”

“He’ll look at ya sideways if you call him that,” Akagi joked. 

“Want company?” Yata offered.

Y/N hesitated and said after a minute, with a smile: “I’m good. Thanks, Yata-san.”

Kusanagi inhaled deeply when Y/N finished to tell him the whole story. He closed his eyes, and then she thought: here it comes. The Anger of the Bartender.

“I understand. It doesn’t mean it makes any better what you two did, but I understand your reasons. I guess there’s nothing to bitch about, huh? Nothing bad happened, although it could’ve happened,” Y/N bit her lips. “Is Akagi with you?”

“Now he is, he’s going to help me with the hard drives if I can’t do anything. I was actually wondering if we shouldn’t go somewhere public so nothing could be tracked, you know, just in case,” she shrugged.

Kusanagi clicked his tongue in some kind of annoyance, complaining about kids.

“You guys want the van, don’t you?”

“You got it right, bar guy!” Akagi showed up, thumbs up.

“Were you two creeping around?” Y/N asked.

“Nah, we just came downstairs. But I sure as hell was curious.”

“Yata-chan!” Kusanagi called. “You’re in charge. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Got it, boss.”

Yata took the keys and they headed for the van. “You’re the wheels, Akagi.”

“Sure. Just don’t start anything until the van stops.”

“Obviously.”

Akagi had turned on a quiet alley and helped Y/N prepare the computers. Yata got out of the van to keep an eye in case anyone approached them. The backdoors were open, and Y/N observed for some seconds the way Yata sat, his shoulders hunched, arms crossed on his chest, his legs wide open in the way only boys sit. His bat was at his side, as well as his skateboard.

“Which hard drive do we start first with?” Akagi asked, getting Y/N out of her haze.

“I don’t know. Maybe the one I got from my dad’s computer? It seems simple, I just wanted to check anyways.”

“Sure, it doesn’t hurt. Who knows what we might even find?”

And so they started working on the hard drives as Yata kept vigilance. Akagi offered to use the second computer to take a look on the second hard drive, maybe even get access in case it’s blocked. Y/N agreed in reluctance, telling him to warn her in case he comes across with anything.

She found her dad’s emails, but none of them looked suspicious.

“He’s talking about a cat, but we didn’t have any pets.”

“And you don’t find that suspicious? At all?”

“Do you think they were talking in code?”

“If your dad was talking about a cat you didn’t have, then you can bet your life that there’s something fishy in there,” Yata said, turning a little to face her.

“I have no idea what ‘the cat’ could possibly mean.”

“Money, documents, favors… it’s a long list,” Akagi said. “Here, this HD is blocked.”

“Think you can pass through?”

“I should be able to. Gimme a sec.”

Y/N was starting to head outside to be with Yata when Akagi started complaining.

“No, no, no no no! Damnit!” He complained out loud, hitting something with his fist.

“What is it?” Yata and Y/N asked at the same time.

“They blocked me. It's inaccessible. Here, Yata, come take a look at this. Do you see it?”

“Like, pixels and shit? Yeah, I do.”

Akagi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “No, you dummy. The signature. Here,” Akagi pointed somewhere on the screen. Yata frowned.

“WD-8? What’s up with them?”

“What is this 8 thing?” Y/N asked. “I’m not understanding anything.”

“They’re a street gang.”

“No Kings, though.”

“Why would my dad be involved with a street gang?”

“Well, at least we got a lead,” Akagi sighed. “We just don’t know their roles in it.”

“Try the other one,” Yata said in a demand. “The HD.”

“Will the lady do the honors?” Akagi looked at Y/N. She shrugged.

“I don’t know if I can make it work.”

“Just put it up to run, that’s enough.”

And so Y/N did it. “Do you think there’s no more access to the previous HD?” She asked, hopeful on a positive answer.

“No, not for now,” Akagi answered, already making his way through the last HD. They blocked me, and their blockage shows a signature. When these things happen, it mostly gives me a hard time. Though I don’t think that WD-8 will be that smart…”

“They could’ve hired some tech bastard,” Yata suggested.

“Manner your language. I’m a tech bastard,” Akagi said in a warning, yet mocking tone.

“Yes, you are. All I’m saying is that if the person was desperate, they would accept anything to work with them.”

“As it usually happens…” Akagi said, focused on his work. “With most street gangs,” he completed. “Here, I got it. This one was easy. It makes me wonder why your dad would have a marked WD-8 HD.”

“I was questioning the same thing myself,” Y/N said. “Maybe… he got it from them? I don’t know. What’s in this one?”

“Some documents. In code, of course, because I can’t get anything useful out of this. What about you?” Akagi asked Y/N, who only gestured negatively with her head, getting closer to see the archives.

“There’s a map with random points marked,” noted Yata.

“I’m sure they’re not random,” the girl whispered. “Damn, there’s nothing about cats in this document. Is that all? A bunch of written nonsense and a map?”

“Guess so. It didn’t lead me to anything else,” Akagi answered as Y/N clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Is there a way to get all of this printed? I want to take a look at this and try to make a sense out of it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As Akagi printed the archives, Yata took a deep breath and headed out of the van. Y/N looked at him, noticing the way he scratched the back of his head, how his beanie would go up and down with the movement and how the boy didn’t get it back into place. She had the urge to get it right, but how weird would that look? Instead, she said that Akagi could keep the blocked HD if he wanted to work on it, which he did want to, and headed outside too.

“Frustrating shit, huh?” Yata said to her. She shrugged.

“Maybe. The little I got is better than nothing. Of course I knew I wouldn’t have all the answers given to me, free-handed. It’s good to have something to work on.”

Yata was staring at her with eyes she couldn’t read, which made her feel uneasy, switching her weight between her left and right foot. The boy was looking serious, and it bothered her that she had no idea what he was possibly thinking.

“I’m a little hungry. You down for some ramen?”

The sudden ask of the boy with the skateboard and the baseball bat made her blink, astonished. “Ramen?” She asked.

“Yeah. Ramen. You know?” And then Yata mimicked the gesture of eating ramen. Of course he was making fun of her.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Ramen. Ramen’s a good idea,” she gave in with a faint smile.

“Great. Yo, Akagi. We’re going for ramen. Wanna tag along?” Yata asked as he got only his head into the van.

“Nah, I’m cool. I’m gonna finish up here, take the van back and leave these stuff at Y/N’s room.”

“Akagi said he’s going to leave the junk in your room.”

“They’re not junk,” Y/N responded gently. “And I heard it. Thanks.”

Y/N always felt that Yata was a little nervous about her - of course, she wasn’t stupid. So the way he asked if she wanted to go and eat ramen with him got her off her own mental balance. She enjoyed the boy’s company - sometimes he was funny, sometimes he was hot-headed, sometimes he was shy -, but she felt good having him around, at her side. It wasn’t that she felt the need to be protected, but she definitely felt safe - safer.

She tried to stop paying so much attention to Yata and all his details, but somehow it was stronger than her.

“What are you looking at?” He asked, plain and midway of the ramen to his mouth. The scene would be hilarious if the question didn’t make her stutter.

“Nothing,” she said. What excuse could she possibly give for such an act? I was just wondering why I can’t get my eyes off you. “I guess I just wanted to say thank you, for doing all of this for me. For being with me.”

“It’s what we do. We’re family now,” Yata quickly went to stare his own bowl of ramen. Was he blushing? “But I want as much as you to find out what happened, find out who did what they did to you. It’s unforgivable. I wanna give ‘em hell.”

“That makes the two of us,” Y/N smiled. “Race back to Homra?”

“You bet,” Yata’s smirk gave her butterflies in her stomach, which she tried to ignore as she finished her ramen.

[sabababa]

A Knight’s Heart

Mirio Togata x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mirio and (Y/n) take Eri out to the local playground, and since there is no one around, Eri asks them to play pretend with her. Mirio as the knight, Eri as the princess, and (Y/n) as the dragon guarding the castle.

Warnings: None

Notes: Reader’s quirk allows her to transform into a dragon when heat is applied, she can also be anthropomorphic in that form

Word count: 2k+

(this gif is so amazing I’m a sucker for pixel art)

     “Okay, Eri, we’ve arrived!” Mirio raised his hands in the air in a grand gesture, showing off the playground they arrived at. It was a decent-sized area, it had multiple slides, plenty of swings, and a plethora of things to climb.

     “This is a playground?” Eri asked as she stared in awe, never before had she seen one.

     “Yep, this is where kids like you like to play!” (Y/n) knelt down next to her, giving her a big grin.

     “Come on, Eri, let’s play!” Mirio grabbed the little girl’s hand and ran up to some stairs that led to a tall, winding slide. (Y/n) sat back on a bench nearby as she watched them. She giggled when Mirio hit his head on a bar, the set was clearly not made for his height, but of course, he laughed it off and brought Eri to the entrance of the slide. They disappeared into the tube and she heard Eri squeal in delight before they reappeared at the end, Mirio fell onto the ground with Eri in his lap, his weight gave them a bit of momentum as they slid down.

     Both laughed as Eri cheered; “Again! Again!”

     (Y/n) laughed from the side-lines, happy to see Eri was enjoying herself, and happy to spend the day with her crush. Mirio was everything any girl wanted in a man and (Y/n) wasn’t blind to his antics, she soon fell for the blonde.

     “(Y/n), you should join us!” Mirio called over as he followed Eri back up the stairs.

     “Nah, it’s fine, three’s a crowd!” She called back, waving her hand dismissively, she wanted Mirio and Eri to enjoy their quality time together, she could tell the small girl liked him more than she did her, which she wasn’t upset about, who couldn’t like Mirio?

     “Come on!” Mirio ran over to her and pulled her up by her wrists. “There’s no kids here, not even adults, no will judge!”

     “I wasn’t worried about being judged,” she laughed as she let him guide her to the same set of stairs he was at moments ago.

     “Then you should totally play with us!” Mirio grinned, now holding her hand.

     (Y/n) noticed that right as he turned he would hit the same bar again. “Wait, Mirio-” she tried to warn him, but was too late as he hit the same bar in the same place.

     “Owww…” He rubbed his head, it must have hurt the second time around.

     “Aww,” she reached her free hand up and rubbed the spot on his head, “poor wittle baby couldn’t watch where he was going.” She said playfully in a tone you would talk to babies in.

     “Maybe you should kiss it better?” He said back in the same tone, leaning his head over for her to kiss.

     “Maybe you should be more aware of your surroundings,” she said in the same tone again but complied to his wish. She placed a quick peck on his forehead and spoke again in her normal tone. “All better?” She smiled sweetly.

     “I feel so much better!” He grinned. “Your kisses are like magic!” He winked. (Y/n) giggled in response and he chuckled with her as they made it over to Eri on the platform. “Let’s all go down at the same time!” He suggested.

     “I think that’s too many people, Mirio,” (Y/n) said.

     “Okay, then how about you and Eri go in the slide and we make it a race? I bet I can beat you guys before you make it down there!”

     “You’re on!” Eri cheered with a look of cute determination.

     (Y/n) laughed lightly. “Okay, we can do that.” She agreed.

     Both girls readied themselves at the entrance of the slide, with Eri between (Y/n)’s legs. “Ready? Set. Go!” Mirio yelled at the end. (Y/n) quickly scooched herself and Eri into the slide and slid down. Eri squealed again at the twisting turns of the tube. (Y/n) saw light filtering at the end, but then saw Mirio appeared at the exit. “Gotcha!” He cheered with his arms open.

     “Mirio, look out!” The older girl yelped as she and the small one practically flew at him. 

     They crashed into him with a big ‘oof’ as he fell over and each girl fell onto different sides of him. They all lifted their heads up to make sure everyone was okay before bursting out into laughter. Mirio got a burst of energy as he sat up and wrapped each arm around them and squeezed them tight to his chest. “I’m so glad I’m spending the day with my two favorite girls!” (Y/n)’s heart soared at his comment. She felt a blush on her cheeks and scales appeared around her eyes from the heat due to her quirk. “Woah, (Y/n), are you okay? You’ve got scales.” Mirio asked concerned as he brushed some hair behind her ear to see the ruby-like scales.

     “Yeah, it’s just hot out, y’know,” she lied and rubbed away the scales with her hands, they turned back into smooth skin.

     “You’re right! I’ll get some water!” Mirio offered with a smile as he lifted them off the ground as he stood. “You two stay here, I’ll be back!” He said as he jogged off down the path to a nearby vending machine.

     “This kinda looks like a castle,” Eri mumbled as she looked at the playground. Then her face showed a big smile as stars filled her eyes with an idea. “We should play pretend!” She turned around to (Y/n). “I’ll be the princess, Mirio can be the knight, and you’ll be the dragon!” She pointed her finger as she named each role.

     (Y/n) smiled down at her. “That’s a great idea, Eri!” Scales began to cover her body again as she felt her body shift slightly. “Let’s steal you away to the castle, princess!” She said as she wiggled her talons at her. Eri let out a loud squeal as the older girl lifted her up over her shoulder and carried her into the castle. She had placed her on a platform near the slide entrance and walked onto a wobbly bridge that connected to a different slide. Her arms were crossed as she stood in a confident pose while she waited for the ‘knight’ to return.

     Mirio had heard Eri’s squeal and it worried him slightly. He knew (Y/n) was there with her, but he quickly ran back over with the bottles in hand. He slowed to a stop once he noticed (Y/n) was using her quirk and had a menacing aura around her. This worried him as he looked around for Eri and then saw her gripping the bars of a platform, a scared expression on her face. Did a villain show up? Were they hiding around here? 

     “Glad you could make it, knight!” (Y/n) yelled down to him at the path.

     “Huh?” Mirio gave her a confused look.

     “Save me, Sir Knight!” Eri jumped up and down as she tried to speak in an elegant tone.

     It easily clicked in Mirio’s head what was going on. He was the knight that had to save Princess Eri from the fearsome dragon (Y/n). He set the water bottles on a bench and picked up a long branch nearby before he pointed it at the mighty dragon. “I am here to save the Princess Eri, Evil Dragon!” He spoke loudly in a royal tone.

     “What will you do to save her, knight?” (Y/n) replied back in a low tone.

     “I will do anything for the princess’ safety! I will fight you even if it means my death!”

     “Glory and death are not what I want,” (Y/n) began, “I am a dragon, we covet things that humans prize and the princess here is a wonderful jewel to add to my collection!” She gestured to the princess before bringing a hand to rest under her snout in thought. “But perhaps we could make a trade?”

     “A trade?” Mirio’s voice wavered as he listened to her words. That wasn’t how the stories went, right?

     “Yes, a trade, what will you give me in return for releasing the princess?” 

     Eri looked confused as she looked between the two. That wasn’t how the stories went.

     Mirio lowered his sword as he looked deep in thought. What could he trade to a dragon who had everything? He was just a knight, he could hardly offer anything that would be worth more than the princess, not even his own life. His eyes then sparkled as he figured out what to trade. He stabbed his sword into the ground, the dragon and princess confused by his actions, and held his arms open as he stared at the marvelous dragon. “I give you my heart!”

     (Y/n) almost choked as she leaned back slightly as the bridge wobbled, his answer shocked her. “Y-your heart?” She stuttered as she tried to look menacing again.

     “I give you my heart in return for the princess’ freedom!” He held his arms open wider, a genuine smile on his face. (Y/n) stood stunned, she didn’t know what to say. She knew she couldn’t take his words seriously, it was just pretend, but she couldn’t help but imagine him actually saying those words to her out of love. 

     Meanwhile, Eri slid down the slide by herself and triumphantly cheered at her great escape. “I escaped the scary dragon!” She said proudly with fists in the air as she ran toward Mirio.

     “Aw, Eri, I was supposed to save you!” Mirio said disappointed as he crouched to her level.

     “Clearly this princess doesn’t need anyone to save her,” (Y/n) said as she flew herself down beside them before her body returned to its original form.

     Mirio stood up again when Eri ran off to play more, a grin plastered on his face. “I liked the twist you pulled, with the dragon, it was amazing!”

     (Y/n) smiled back. “I liked your answer, that honestly surprised me, I didn’t know what you were gonna say.” She laughed at the end, trying to stave off the ache in her heart.

     “Well, I just spoke from my heart.” He answered honestly with a gentle smile. (Y/n) laughed lightly at his answer, thinking he was making a joke back to the answer he made. She shoved his shoulder playfully. “I’m serious.” He spoke again. Her laughter died down as she looked him in his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes. “I meant it when I said I’d give you my heart.” He grabbed her hand and held it over his chest where his heart beat. She felt how fast it pounded against his chest, she tore her eyes away from their hands and looked back up at him. A small blush dusted his cheeks as he stared at her hopefully, waiting for an answer.

     A blush spread across her cheeks and scales soon followed. “W-w-wait- do you mean- you like me?” She stuttered as she tried to form a complete sentence.

     “Yeah, I do,” he replied instantly, “I’ve liked you for a while now, I wanted to tell you the moment I knew, but I had to make it special somehow and well you created that special moment!” He grinned and chuckled.

     (Y/n) couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on her face, she immediately covered it with her hand when she replied. “I like you too!”

     Mirio removed her hand so he could stare at her beautiful smile. “Don’t hide, you’re pretty,” he said as he cupped his hands around her face. They stared into each other’s eyes again, his eyes drifted down to her lips and hers did the same to his. They sealed the distance with a kiss as she rested her own hands on his neck, her heart sped up, butterflies filled her stomach, a tingle went down her spine, and her leg popped up from the sweetness of it all. It was a long and innocent kiss. 

     When they parted they heard someone screech in the distance. “Eww!” Eri yelled at them from atop a platform. They both looked at her and then hugged each other with a laugh.

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Masterlist

[savoies]

Missing You - Andrei Svechnikov.

Andrei Svechnikov x Reader.

Word Count: 1,882

Requested: Yes! “svech surprising you where you live for college after Carolina got eliminated from the playoffs.”

Warning: None I believe.

A/N: This is my friend's first blurb/fic request so I hope you guys like it. Feedback is always appreciated and we are very excited for her to be writing and for you guys to be reading her works.

Dating a hockey player wasn’t always perfect or dreamy. It had its ups and downs just like every relationship. To you, it only made you and Andrei stronger as a couple. But one thing that had gotten you down more than once was the distance. Sometimes you were too caught in how your boyfriend wasn’t there, that you felt as if your relationship wouldn’t last. But everytime, once you heard the soothing sound of his voice, or the edges of his mouth twitching into a smile, all your anxieties and worries washed away. Just like that. Because you were completely and positively in love with Andrei. 

You giggled, the laugh sliding off your tongue easily as you laughed at Andrei’s bad attempt at a joke. You grinned at your boyfriend through the screen, briefly wishing he wasn’t just a cluster of pixels shimmering on the screen- but you weren’t going to complain. You’d take as much as you could get. Andrei’s laugh filled the space of your dorm room. You missed the sound desperately, but knew he was following his dream and playing. So you sucked it up and kept the smile on your face, trying to hide your struggles with his absence. 

“Baby, you good?” Andrei asked, brows furrowed as you totally missed his question.

You blinked. “Oh, yeah! Sorry I spaced out.” You gave him a smile. 

Your boyfriend studied you for a second before deciding to let it slide. Andrei started talking again and you listened in earnest. You couldn’t help but notice that he was acting weird as he sped through his words. Almost as if he couldn’t wait for something. You internally wondered what could possibly make Andrei so excited, but you figured it just because you hadn’t had much time to facetime between studying and going out with friends in the past week. And Andrei was just as, if not more, desperate for a glimpse of your face or voice before going to bed. You smiled, leaning back in your chair as you stretched, yawing as you did. It was getting late, and your roommate would be back soon after her night out. Though you felt the exhaustion from close to no sleep and cramming for the History test tomorrow, you wanted to stay on the phone with Andrei. However, noticing your yawn the boy stopped mid-sentence. 

“You tired?”

“No,” You replied, perhaps too fast for his liking because the boy arched a brow. You relented. “Fine, yes. But I want to stay on the line. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t you have that history test tomorrow? The one you’ve been studying for for like two weeks?” 

“One.” You corrected him, before you noticed his pointed look. “Yes, I do have that test, but I don't wanna leave!” You pouted, hoping he’d catch the hint of desperation in your voice and stay with you for longer. 

Normally you’d be curled in your bed, trying to get as much sleep as you could, but you knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. You woke up with the familiar ache in your heart that only came when you missed Andrei. The feeling hadn’t left you, and as night crept closer, it worsened until you were practically begging your boyfriend to stay on the call just so you could escape sleep and the tears for a minute longer. 

“Y/N, go to bed. You need it, for the test.” 

“Andrei, no, I’m fine. Seriously. I miss your voice, please?” You begged, giving him your best puppy eyes. Eyes that usually made you get your way and hide the seriousness of your plea. 

“You miss me?” The corners of his mouth lifted up as he teased you softly. 

“Of course I do, dummy.” You huffed, unable to stop the smile that matched his. You looked down, trying to hide the sudden burn of tears at the back of your eyes. You played with the edge of your sweatshirt- the one you’d stolen from him not too long ago. 

Just then, your door opened, swinging open to reveal your roommate dressed in her party outfit coming back. You smiled up at her, Andrei falling silent on the other end. 

“Hey, Marissa.” You greeted her before turning back to Andrei. 

“Hey Y/N. Andrei.” She gave your boyfriend a little wave before grabbing her shower things and leaving the room. 

You bit your lip as the door clicked shut, a signal Andrei was going to leave you alone in a cold bed, alone with your thoughts. You knew he would be here if he could, and you didn’t want to take him away from his teammates and the game. Though he couldn’t play, with his injury and all, you knew he still loved watching the game though it hurt a little that he couldn’t actually be on the ice. You held your breath, waiting for his goodbye. 

“I don’t have to hang up if you don’t want me to,” Andrei offered, sensing the shift in your energy. 

Guilt flashes through your chest. He was probably tired too. The time difference was only two hours, but two hours was two hours. You never wanted to be the clingy, needy girlfriend, but here you were, silently wishing he’d just stay without asking. Because if you told him to stay, you became that girl, and you felt guilty for it. 

“No, no.” You protest, giving him a strained smile. “I’m good. You’re right- I should go to bed. I’ll see you-” You paused, frowning. You didn’t actually know when you were going to see him again, in person. If he won this game, which was going on right now, Andrei only able to call during the second intermission, they’d continue in the playoffs. For a fleeting, selfish second, you wished he’d lose so he’d come back to you sooner. Chiding yourself for the thought you licked your lips and prepared for a night alone. Again. 

Andrei sighed on the other end. “I know baby. I miss you too.” A grin flashed quickly across his face before it disappeared, leaving you to wonder why he was so giddy. “But I’ll see you soon.” 

You gave another smile. If only that statement were true and he’d be home tomorrow. “Alright. Good luck with the rest of your game! I love you, Andrei.” 

“Thank you. I love you too, babygirl.” He smiled, and before you could take another big sigh, the call disconnected. 

You swallowed and closed your laptop. You hadn’t been watching the game at all, unaware of the score or how it was going because you were in your room with your nose buried in textbooks. You had no idea the Canes were losing and Andrei was trying to keep his excitement in check about the plane he was about to catch to fly to you. 

So, as you curled into your sheets, Marissa came back into the room, accidentally crashing into the foot of her bed before bidding you a good night, preparing yourself for another lonely night without Andrei’s arm wrapped around you, he was ending his call and driving to the airport. 

The chilled mid-morning air nipped at your skin as you made your way across the quad. You’d decided to get some fresh air- and much needed coffee- before heading back to school for your second, and last class of the day. Coffee in hand, you made your way back to the building housing the classroom you’d spend the next hour in. 

You heaved a sigh, feeling like you’d need two more grande coffee’s to get through this class. Last night, after Marissa’s breathing evened out, you over thought, your mind leading down hideous paths as the ache in your chest got worse. You prayed being away from Andrei would get better. 

Looking down at your phone, you checked the time (11:02) and the chain of texts you’d sent your boyfriend before heading into class. Noticing he hadn’t responded, you frowned, trying to brush it off as you waited for class to end. You tried not to overthink it, but you feared Andrei got hurt again or another scenario your overthinking brain came up with. Once the teacher released you, you exited and found a quiet spot in the hallway, quickly calling your boyfriend. 

He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, baby.” 

“Andrei, are you okay?” You rushed, huddling closer to the wall as some students milled around you. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled at your response. “All good, baby.” He paused. “You good? How was your test?” 

“It was okay, I think I did well.” You relaxed, knowing he was okay. You bit your lip, deciding whether or not to say what you wanted to. “How was your game?” You asked instead. 

“We lost.” 

“Lost? So..” You frowned. “Wait, does that mean your out?” 

“Yep. Now I get to come see you, baby.” 

Your heart jumped and you grinned as you held the phone. The ache of missing him eased a little, knowing you’d see him soon. “I’m sorry about your game though, Andrei.” 

“It’s alright. I’m ok, now that I get to see my girl.” 

You were confused by his words. “What? When do you think you can visit?” 

Andrei laughed on the other end, the sound only confusing you further. “Baby, why don’t you turn around?”

Furrowing your brows, you turned, and there he was. Andrei was standing ten feet away, tall and big amongst the college students as he grinned at you. He was dressed in a hoodie (the one you usually steal) and was holding his hands, ready for you to crash into them. And crash you did. You let out a squeal of joy upon seeing your boyfriend, in flesh, standing before you. Running, you gripped him tightly as he hugged you. You missed him embrace more than you’d like to admit, savoring his scent as you buried your face into his chest. The boy leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. 

“Hi, baby.” he laughed, stroking your hair as you pulled back. You grinned and leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips. His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you closer as he kept his lips on you. Showing you just how much he missed you. He pulled back, a little breathless as he leaned his forehead against yours. “God I missed you.” 

You giggled, knowing his words all too well. You carded your fingers through his hair, earning a hum from him in response. “I missed you so much, Andrei.” 

You met his eyes and couldn’t help but giggle at the adoration staring back to you. He grinned, lifting you in the air until your legs were wrapped around his waist as he peppered your face with kisses, coaxing laughs out of you with each brush of his lips against your skin. 

As he pulled back again, your stomach grumbled, reminding you of your missed lunch. Andrei put you back down, but his hands never strayed from your waist as you picked up your bag and suggested to go get lunch. 

“Sounds perfect.” He grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple.

taglist: @hartsyhart​ @boesxr​ @ana-maa​ 

i do have a taglist which you could be added here.

[glass-es-say]

Are Ya Winning, Gos?

“Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says solemnly. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you. We really need to get you a helmet.”

Gosalyn tries to teach Drake how to play Legend of Legends Quest.

Here on Ao3

“Uhg, are you kidding me!”

Drake blinks and looks away from patching his costume back together—again. He’d had no idea how many buttons Darkwing should’ve lost when he’d watched the show as a kid. He’s already had to put in a bulk order for them.

“Ahh!” Gosalyn drops her game in her lap and scrubs her hands over her face.

“Having fun?”

Gosalyn glares at him then slouches somehow further down into the couch.  Drake makes a mental note to include some more stretches in their training routine. “I’m trying to level up my character so I can play with Launchpad and one of the Dewey’s brothers whose character is super OP but this stupid Routerrock monster just! Keeps! Killing me!”

Huh. He can honestly say he hadn’t been expecting that. “Sounds annoying.” He frowns. “They want you to level up before you can join them?”

“No, uhg, they’re both super nice about it obviously but I haven’t really had time to play since before—you know. And I don’t want to be carried!” She punches the back cushion of the couch. “I want to kill stuff myself!”

“Just what every superhero wants to hear from his sidekick,” he responds wryly, standing up and wandering over to where she’s sprawled across the couch.

Gosalyn sits up just enough to roll her eyes at him. “It’s video game, you—uhg, whatever, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Oh?” he asks mildly, leaning his arms on the back of the couch and looking down at her. “You sure?”

“I mean, it’s—whatever, you don’t have to pretend to care, um, but. Basically, I’m trying to beat this big rock monster so my character can get stronger but there’s like, this trick to it that I just haven’t figured out yet. And it’s frustrating me. That’s all.”

“Sounds tough,” Drake says. “You must really enjoy playing to keep going after something so frustrating.”

She shrugs, looking away from him and down at the couch cushions. “I mean, it’s fun still, so.”

“Must be. Cool graphics, too. I like that ridiculously huge sword you’ve got.”

Gosalyn snorts. “Thanks. It was a quest reward.” She’s still pointedly not looking at him when she quietly says, “Do you—um, do you want to play?”

Drake blinks. “Really?”

“Well,” she starts, louder and brasher and attempting at blasé, “I’ve already died to this guy so many times not even you could screw up my character’s stats more, so.”

Drake rolls his eyes. “How reassuring.”

“But yeah, I mean. If you wanted to. I don’t mind.”

“Sure, okay,” Drake says, hurdling the couch and landing on the cushion next to Gosalyn. “Sounds like fun.”

She gives him a particular smile he’s been seeing more and more often as they get used to being around each other and he and Launchpad get to know her. It makes something warm and happy squeeze at his heart—he’s beginning to think he’d do pretty much anything to see her smile like that.

“Okay, so this is how you move around and stuff.” She makes her character spin around in a tight circle. “And these are the block and attack buttons. You can get the menu with this one, but please don’t use all my items or I’ll be very, very sad.”

“So you’re saying I should definitely use all those glowing potion things right now.”

“No!” She pushes at him. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Drake laughs and takes the controller from her. “Alright, alright, I promise not to touch them.”

She huffs and throws herself back on the couch then immediately leans back up again. “I’m out of PvP mode right now so if anyone else shows up you can just, like, ignore them. Do not chat with anyone, I—you know what, I’ll just disable that too.” She takes the controller back and navigates through the menu to toggle the chat function off.

“The amount of trust here is heartwarming,” Drake deadpans.

Gosalyn tabs down a few more rows and hesitates, then says, “I’m gonna set the camera on auto too, that’s probably a bit beyond you right now.” She clicks around, then hands the controller back over. “Okay! All set for what I’m sure is going to be a very entertaining fight.”

“Trust and confidence. I’m so touched.”

Gosalyn has left her character in a dark, narrow stone hallway. A line of torches dots the walls, dragging the player’s attention toward the glowing block of light at the end of the hall.

“So,” he asks. “Where am I going?

Gosalyn lets out a long breath. “Oh my god,” she mutters to herself. Drake makes a heroic effort and stops himself from laughing. “Okay, just keep going down the hallway. No—that’s the wrong way. Toward the light, Drake, please. This is already so painful.”

Drake does not snicker. He simply walks the character forward to the light and triggers the loading screen for the next area.

“Okay, so,” Gosalyn says as the shape of a large stone chamber renders onscreen. “There’s gonna be this big rock monster in this room—that’s who you’re fighting. He doesn’t have any minions so you can literally just focus on him and try not to get crushed.” She tilts her head. “I hope you’re better at that than you are in real life.”

“Are the continued insults really necessary?”

“Yes. Okay, see him? That’s the guy. Don’t let him—”

A giant rock fist crushes him immediately. It isn’t exactly what Drake had in mind when Gosalyn asked him if he wanted to play. He huffs.

Gosalyn hisses in sympathy. “See that—that’s not what I meant by don’t get crushed.”

Drake levels her with a glare. “I kind of gathered that, thank you.”

He taps through the character respawn loading page until it drops them back in the corridor before the monster.

“Oh, yeah, try again. Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you.”

“That was one—that was tw—that doesn’t happen to me that often!”

“Oh, it super does,” she nods solemnly. “We really need to get you a helmet.”

“Now she’s all about helmets,” he says, moving the character forward into the battle area again. This time he darts away from the monster a couple times—but within a minute the character gets hit by not one, but two giant rock fists and the death screen pops back up.

“Yikes,” Gosalyn says. “This is just getting a little sad, actually, so maybe you can stop—"

“Wait,” Drake says, navigating his way back to the starting point. “Let me try one last time.”

“Uh, sure,” Gosalyn says. “But please don’t break my controller when you die again.”

“I won’t!” Die or break the controller, hopefully. “Look, I’ll make a bet with you. If I can beat this guy, you have to start helping me sew the buttons back on my costume.”

“And when you can’t?”

He makes a show of sighing. “We’ll get Hamburger Hippo for dinner tonight.”

She just looks at him, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide if it would be unheroic to let you make a bet you can’t possibly win.” She squints. “Eh, I want Hamburger Hippo more than I care about that. You’re on.”

Drake restarts the character and runs forward to the boss area. Right. No item run with a mid-level character that isn’t his. Now that he’s got a handle on Gosalyn’s specific build a single Routerrock won’t pose too much of a problem. He won’t hit speed-run times, but that’s just fine.

His heart beats quickly in his chest. The payoff for pulling this off is going to be so good.

Gosalyn shifts beside him. “You know, this is kind of a hard boss so you don’t need to like, feel bad if you can’t beat it or anything. I mean, I haven’t quite managed it yet—”

The room loads and Drake immediately scales the wall. Gosalyn stills beside him.

Three minutes later and the monster is dead, stone figure dissolving away into pixels. Gosalyn’s character punches the air and starts counting up new XP.

“What.”

Drake finally lets his grin break through. “Probably would’ve been faster with those power ups you’ve got banked, but eh. Your ranged damage is actually pretty good, though, how come you haven’t tried sniping it while dodging out of its melee distance?”

“Buh—Because that’s no fun,” she says distantly. “Wait—what just happened!?”

Gosalyn’s staring between him and the game with a flat look of shock. Drake sets the controller back in her lap and leans back. “I’m a nerdy kid from the ‘90s, Gos. I’ve put more hours into Legend of Legends Quest than you’ve been alive.” He stands and stretches his arms above him. “Hope you’re excited to start sewing buttons.”

“You tricked me!” She cries, vaulting off the couch and throwing herself at his upper back. It knocks the wind out of him and they both go tumbling to the floor.

Drake groans into the rug. Ow. At least Gosalyn had something to cushion her fall.

“You Legend Quest sharked me! Liar!”

Drake wheezes face down onto the floor. “Oh my god, Gos, I’m not LP you can’t just —”

“Stop whining, you’re fine,” she says, but she jumps off of his back and scurries around to kneel by his head instead. “Or you will be until it gets out that Darkwing Duck himself is a scam artist. A con man. A frivolous fraud who lies to innocent children—”

Drake sits up with a groan, rotating his shoulder. “You really want that burger, huh.”

She sniffs. “What I want is for my hero to be a good role model. And yet,” she sighs dramatically, “I am let down. Literally.”

“Again,” Drake says, “I am neither LP nor a climbing wall.”

Gosalyn rolls her eyes and drops down to sit beside him. She doesn’t look at him, just bites her lip and fiddles with the string of her sweatshirt. Drake rubs shoulder and watches her with growing curiosity.

“Uh, you know, there’s a local multiplayer now,” she half-mumbles to the floor. “If you wanted to play again, or whatever.”

Drake swallows around the warmth spreading through his chest. “Would you—do you want to?”

Gosalyn gives a kind of half-shrug. “You know. It could be fun.”

He can’t help the stupid smile that spreads across his face. “I’d like that a lot,” he says, rolling to his feet and reaching down to help Gosalyn back upright. “Let me get my account code so I can log in as my main.”

She gasps and punches his arm. “You have a main? You know what main means? You are such a cheater!” She shakes her head with mock solemnity. “You’re a terrible influence on a growing young mind.”

Drake chuckles and rubs his arm. “Alright, we’ll get Hamburger Hippo. But only tonight! And you still have to help me resew buttons.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Do you know how to get the Lightning Longbow?”

“Yeah?”

“Alright. Deal accepted.”

*

"...Your character is basically just Darkwing."

"I don't know why you're in any way surprised."

“God, you’re the lamest superhero ever. Even Gizmoduck is cooler.”

“Hey!”

*

Friend request received from GosaWin

 Friend request accepted