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pigdemonart · 1 year

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Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)

When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]

These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.

More info under cut:

Edit: Important disclaimer:

These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍

Tags:

I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.

Height chart:

I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:

Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)

Notes about each agent...

Cameron:

- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices. - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too. - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.

Cloud:

- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling. - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace. - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together! - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.

Furze:

- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.

Isadore

- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao

Jackie

- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...

- Item #: SCP 7453

- Object Class: Euclid

- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.

Ramses

- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.

In-Game Quotes

The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.

In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.

Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!

#depot agents #depot agents master post #my art #submas #submas adjacent ahaha #will probably edit as time goes on but who knows really #if you spot any typos no you dont kiss kiss #cameron #cloud #furze #isadore #jackie #ramses

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martyfive · 4 months

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i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

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In Flames I Sleep Soundly (1/2)

Summary: What do you do when you find out that person you trust the most is a liar? Or the Unfaithful AU that I've been wanting to read for a while.

Word Count: 9k+

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), Cheating/Adultery, Implied Het Sexual Content

Author’s Note: I was thinking about making a separate tumblr for fics (since I primarily post fanarts), but I’m too scatterbrained two maintain more than one account. I recently saw Unfaithful (2002) again and thought about doing an AU based on that movie. The title of this fic are lyrics from "Wedding Song" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs. No betas. And I won't apologize for how imperfect this monster is. I haven't written in more than a decade, so let's all suck it up.

AO3 / Part Two / Masterlist

Part One

Summer arrives in Westview, New Jersey in a fairly conspicuous manner. Its parks have been repainted with various shades of green, and the oversized trench coats on the streets that its residents are so fond of during the cold months are nowhere to be found.

Despite these observations, Westview remains a sleepy town. At least it is to you, but that's probably because you’ve spent half of your life in Manhattan. You and Wanda moved to New Jersey a few months ago after you were promoted to branch manager. The salary that came with it was enough to pay off your student loans including Wanda's, so it was easy to accept the offer despite the trade-off of having to move to a relatively unknown and rural town.

"It's only temporary," you told Wanda when you broke the news. "My supervisor said that if I can prove myself there, I can come back as a regional manager."

Wanda had assured you that you had her full support. At the time, she was working part-time at a small gallery for up-and-coming artists in the state, and while she needed to start somewhere to realize her dream of becoming an art dealer, she figured it wouldn't derail her career so much if she could learn art trading online.

Everything happened in a blur after that. In two weeks, you were driving to Westview with nothing but two suitcases and your dog, Sparky, on Wanda's lap. You held her hand while she slept throughout the entire trip and you faced the unknown roads that led to your new life.

The house they picked for you and your family exceeded your expectations. Granted, you had to subsidize a percentage of the move-in fee, it was a small price to pay to have so much space. The bathroom alone is larger than the guestroom of your previous two-bedroom apartment in Yorkville. On the first day, Wanda had explored the house with a childlike wonder, while Sparky tried to cover every inch of its ostensibly boundless backyard. That night, with only a blanket laid out on the floor, you made love to Wanda and then some more on the kitchen counter and the bathtub upstairs, inside the master's bedroom.

You've been married to her for five years, but a fresh start gave you two the sexual appetite of newly weds. It didn’t take 48 hours to christen every room in the house.

By now, a routine has been established: you wake up at five in the morning to go out for a run, back at home by six, and then showered and dressed for work before seven. Wanda, on the other hand, would try to get up before you're done with your ceremonies to prepare breakfast. She's not always successful–sometimes waking up long after you've gone to work.

"You want some coffee?" Wanda wakes you out of your stupor. She's still in her nightgown, holding two cups of freshly brewed coffee. Her auburn hair is up in a messy bun and she is, after all these years, a sight to behold.

You look at her and then at your left wrist to check the time on the Rolex she gave you as a wedding gift. You still have a few minutes, but there's an urgent staff meeting that you're a little anxious about.

"And maybe some omelet?" Wanda suggests when you don't answer, already cracking some eggs in a bowl.

"Sorry, babe, got to run." You shake your head apologetically before walking over to her and kissing the back of her head. Wanda merely continues whisking the eggs for a while before commenting, "Until when are you going to have these early meetings?"

"I don't know. Maybe the end of the month?"

"You're the boss. Can't you just call them off? Maybe schedule them during actual office hours?"

You shrug and say nothing, unwilling to engage in an argument so early in the day. Wanda exhales heavily at your lack of reaction, which compels you to reach for her hand and stroke it. Seeing how she’s not pulling away from your touch, you move to hug her from behind.

"I'll try to be home early tonight, okay? I miss you too." You say softly and kiss her cheek.

"I didn't say I miss you." Wanda deadpans, but she's already turning around in your arms for a proper embrace. You kiss her forehead and let her hold you for a few beats. She buries her nose in your neck and inhales deeply. “I told you to stop wearing this perfume. It makes you unbearably enticing.” Wanda admonishes you with a hungry look.

It’s embarrassing how easily your wife can turn you into a bashful teenager with a little flirting.

“Well, maybe you should do something about it.” You playfully taunt her.

“Maybe I will.” Wanda says in a low voice, and she’s close enough for you to notice the total lack of green in her eyes.

As much as you want to rip her silky lingerie and take her right then and there, the fact is you are already going to miss the first few minutes of the meeting–and then maybe a quarter of it if you don’t leave soon.

"I really have to go. But first things first," You grab one of the two cups of joe and Wanda starts giggling when you drink from it in one go. "Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a cafe business."

"Idiot." Wanda taps your nose affectionately, before shoving you towards the door.

Later, you arrive home just a few minutes shy of midnight. The house is deathly silent, even your dog could not be bothered greeting you at the door. You go straight to the bedroom, making as little sound as possible, to find Wanda asleep on her side, facing away from you. You get rid of your clothes and climb into bed. You carefully inch towards her and press your front against her back, spooning her. You hear her breath hitch, but before you can start thinking of an apology, you fall fast into a dreamless sleep.

***

It’s two months later and on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when Wanda breaks the news that she’s been offered a temporary position at Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences. You’ve watched your wife gradually grow restless each week, having a difficult time adjusting to life in the suburbs. Wanda interviewing for a job wasn’t as forthcoming as her asking you to move back to the city. Taking the job would mean integrating with the community in a semi-permanent way. So it’s a surprise that Wanda would even consider it.

"Assistant professor?" you ask distractedly, not looking up from the Jonathan Tropper novel on your lap. Wanda’s perched on one of the barstools of the breakfast counter, waiting for her banana bread to be done in the oven. Sparky lays at her feet, also waiting for the banana bread.

"What do you think?" Wanda muses and drums her fingers on the table.

You regard your restless wife for a moment, before closing the book and tapping the spot next to you on the couch. “C’mere.”

Wanda does as she’s told and Sparky follows after her.

"I think it’s a great opportunity and experience to have. But I thought you're getting a lot of projects from Upwork."

You try not to sound too partial to the idea of her working in the university. However, if you’re being totally honest, it would essentially solve the problem of your wife’s mild existential crisis– and your guilt of probably causing it.

"It’s just a side-hustle,” Wanda argues. “Besides, they’re going to need me only three times a week and they offered me a full-time pay.”

“Sounds too perfect to be true.”

Wanda shakes her head. “I don’t think so. It’s not unheard of that there’s a huge demand for educators in small-town institutions.”

“So you’ll take it?”

Wanda nods with a smile and then says, “Only if you’ll drive me in the morning.”

“Of course, baby.” You say almost instantly and give her a quick peck on the lips. It doesn’t even matter that Wanda has her own car since she hates driving with a passion.

"Professor Maximoff." Her potential designation rolls off your tongue coolly. You’ve never really pictured Wanda in academe before, and now you can’t get rid of the image of her in a perfectly tailored suit.

The corners of Wanda’s mouth quirk up in a dreamy smile. "Kinda has a ring to it, huh?"

"A very sexy ring to it, professor."

Wanda giggles as you go ahead and think of ways to sneak into one of her classes some time in the near future.

"I'd tell you I've gotten a job at Baskin' Robbins and you'd say I look hot in their uniform." she points out.

"I bet you're hotter with all your clothes off."

Suddenly, the oven dings and Sparky starts barking at Wanda.

“And you’ve got a one-track mind,” she mutters with an undercurrent of mirth, before getting up to return to her baking. “Ten points from Hufflepuff!”

You burst into a fit of laughter. “Can’t blame me for having a hot wife. Also, I’m a Gryffindor you vexing Slytherin!”

Wanda can be the biggest dork at times, and it only makes you fall for her a little harder in these moments.

She sticks her tongue out at you. “Dream on, Badger Queen.”

***

It’s some kind of Hollywood domestic bliss.

You still wake up at five to go out for a run, but now Wanda’s your running buddy and you’re always trying to catch up with her pace.

“I can’t believe this gives you more energy than coffee.” she said the first time she laced up and she finished her run a minute faster than you. You thought it’s ludicrous that Wanda was a natural athlete on top of her good looks, but you figured it was an organic truth given that her brother played professional soccer for a couple of years before he got into the business side of sports.

Most days, you’d let Wanda clean up first while you cook breakfast. On one occasion that you joined her in the shower, Wanda turned up so late in class some of the students were already preparing to leave.

“That can’t happen again.” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

You’d been married to her long enough to know that Wanda often broke her own rules. Historically, you’d watch her do so with satisfaction just because it’s usually an unspoken challenge between married people. And maybe because it reminded you that she’s human. Imperfect as much as you were.

“Just be careful, Y/N,” your best friend, Natasha, told you a month into dating Wanda Maximoff. “Mistakes and disappointments are inevitable. Hell, even I will let you down at some point in the future.”

“You have. Many times.” you said jokingly.

“Is that right? Look, all I’m saying is it’s also not fair to Wanda if you put her on such a high pedestal.”

Natasha was right. However, it wasn’t like you could change who you were and how you loved. The night you met Wanda at freshman orientation, you knew she was the one. You loved her through college as her closest friend as much as you did when she began to see you in a new light thereafter.

And even now, as you stare at her sneaking a nap on the drive to her workplace, nothing has changed. It’s a cherished moment, no matter how mundane.

Your hopeless crush on Wanda never really went away.

You feel very lucky that she feels the same way.

***

You’re about ten feet from the door of your house when you hear scratches from behind it, followed by Sparky’s incessant barking. Quickly, you fish out your keys from your backpack and open the door.

Sparky jumps at you as soon as the door swings open, and then starts licking at your pants.

“What’s up?” you say, scratching behind his ears until he calms down.

You look around the empty living room and notice for the first time that Wanda’s not home.

You send a text to her asking where she is. Sparky is making whiny noises, while pushing his empty bowl towards you with his tiny paw.

“Sorry, bud. Let’s get you your dinner.” You say, picking up the bowl and bringing it to where you store his food. You open the cupboard to find a mostly empty bag of Merrick. Sparky patiently waits for you, wagging his tail. Wanda was supposed to get some groceries this afternoon.

You check your phone and find no new messages.

“Looks like you’re coming with me for a quick run to the grocery store.” You tell Sparky with a sigh.

Sparky tilts his head at you in confusion. You send another text to Wanda telling her you went out and ask if she’s already eaten, before heading out to your car once again.

You don’t hear back from Wanda long after you’ve had dinner by yourself and it’s almost midnight. Your anxiety levels are at an all-time high, and you’re about to call the cops when you hear her car approaching the garage.

You’re waiting by the door, so at the very second she slips inside the house, you hoist her into a desperate embrace like a mad woman.

“Where were you?” You exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard. “I’ve been worried sick and you went dark on me.”

Wanda winces at you, gently prying your fingers from her. “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t do that again. You couldn’t have borrowed someone’s cell or call from the school?”

“Like I said, I was working,” Wanda rolls her eyes, just a tad snidely. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

It’s not that you’ve never heard your wife curse before, but you can’t help but flinch given the context at which she’s said it.

“Fine,” You clench your jaw, stepping out of her way. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Sure.” Wanda says stoically.

You don't talk about it in the morning. Or at all.

***

The forecast is you’re not going to hit this quarter’s targets. You’ll be two to three percent short, and everyone is telling you there’s not enough time to pull off a new campaign and drum up enough business to meet the numbers.

Your stubborn nature beseeches you to try anyway. It is, of course, at the cost of being stuck in front of your laptop in the dead of night.

Wanda approaches you to see if you need anything before she goes to bed without you. You smile at the sweet gesture but shake your head no.

“I’m good,” you say.

“Are you sure? I’ve got us fresh tea bags.”

“Positive.”

“Okay, good night.” she offers you a faint smile and starts to leave the room.

“Wands?” you utter abruptly.

She pauses and leans against the door frame. “Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course, I love you,” Wanda drags her feet back to you. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” You let out a mirthless laugh. “We’re still working.”

Wanda nods solemnly but doesn’t speak. You can’t see her eyes with just a lamp lit on your desk and you're oddly grateful for that.

“I just miss you.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, uhm,” you fidget, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

***

You wake up to wet kisses all over your face, only to be sorely disappointed to find out it's just Sparky, while Wanda looks at you softly as she waits for you to shake off the residues of sleep.

“Baby, I need a favor.” Wanda says.

"Good morning to you too." You reply good-naturedly.

Wanda ducks her head sheepishly. "Sorry, I've been waiting for you to wake up. I've said ‘good morning’ in my head, like, a hundred times." she tells you.

You silently brush a lock of hair from her face, before scooting closer to her and pressing a small kiss on her forehead.

"How can I be of service, m'lady?" you ask.

Wanda gets to it immediately. “There’s this painting I need from where I used to work. I need to bring it tomorrow, but I can’t take the day off. There’s no substitute because, well, I’m supposedly the substitute.”

“Sure, I’ll drop by there after work.”

Wanda makes a bashful noise of disapproval. “They’re only open until three-thirty.”

It’s a bad time to be missing work these days, but Wanda rarely asks for your help with anything. She’d sooner ask a stranger than her partner. There's one ex-boyfriend of hers you actually got to talk to in the past long before you and Wanda happened. The conversation was short, with mostly him talking–or rather ranting about how Wanda never made him feel needed. He went as far as claiming that she emasculated him in many ways. You never agreed with his insinuations of it being Wanda's flaw, and that it contributed to the downfall of their relationship. You like that Wanda is not a damsel in distress and that she carries herself with an air of confidence that only a truly independent woman can exude.

Although it does feel good to be needed sometimes.

“I’ll take care of it.” You assure her.

“Thank you,” Wanda says, and then proceeds to give you a tight but fleeting hug. "Alright, I'm gonna go get ready."

You plop back on the bed with a huff. You haven't gone out on a proper date with Wanda for months, and you don't know how much longer you can survive this routine of late nights and rush hours. Maybe a vacation isn't too improbable by the end of August. Wanda's always wanted to visit Maui and, but you've kept deferring it until next year. A year has turned into two, three, and you don't realize it until just now that she's stopped mentioning it to you.

You make a mental note to search for discount flights later. Or maybe you can start with something more feasible like, say, lunch?

"Wands?"

The noise of the running shower drowns out your call, so you lumber from the bed and towards the bathroom.

Your mouth goes dry at the view of Wanda's soaked body, nostrils flaring at her stupid rule of no sex before work.

Wanda turns around and your eyes drop lower.

"Jesus, Y/N!" she gasps, then lets out a breathy laugh.

"Sorry," you lie, smirking at her nakedness. "Should we go out for lunch later?"

"I'd love to," Wanda says. "But I've got a lunch meeting with the dean."

"I see." you say and linger by the door. The crestfallen look on your face doesn't go unnoticed by your wife.

"We can have dinner," Wanda proposes tentatively. "Maybe drive to the city for some steaks and a dive bar after?"

Your eyes light up at her suggestion, heart brimming with repose.

"I'll pick you up at seven," you say. "It's a date."

Wanda throws a wink in your direction before turning back around to lather herself with your favorite soap.

Finding a parking space in Soho is almost next to impossible. You've only been living out of Manhattan for a couple of months, but it already feels like the population has doubled since. You're thinking about just leaving the car somewhere near the island and using the subway, when a woman enters your view and you step on the break as fast as you could. There's a loud screeching sound to be heard before the woman is rushing to your door with every intent to pulverize you on the spot.

As soon as you roll your window half-way through, a string of profanities welcome your ears like a gunshot. What you don't count on is hearing them from a spectacularly familiar voice.

"You almost got me killed you fucking asshole –"

You tilt your head towards your assailant. There's no mistaking that pair of green eyes.

“Yelena?"

Natasha's younger sister stares at you wide-eyed before her face breaks into the brightest smile.

"Y/N?"

"I almost didn't recognize you. I'm glad you still remember my name." you say. The last time you saw each other was right before Yelena went to an English university that you’ve forgotten the name of(it rhymes with ‘weed’) and you were a freshman in college. Yelena was a brunette then; she used to wear thick-rimmed glasses and her hair was always up in a low ponytail. The Yelena in front of you has blonde hair, a nose-piercing, and a cherry blossom tattoo on her chest that trails down and disappears into the collar of her blouse.

"How could I forget the only friend of my sister who was ever nice to me?" she quips with a toothy grin.

You blush at the fond memory of tutoring Yelena and treating her often to street shawarma.

"That's not true. Bruce was friendly with you as well."

"That's because he was dating my sister and wanted to get on my good side. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Looking for somewhere to park. Do you happen to know any in the area?"

"I've got one if you want. It's just down the street, second corner to your right."

"You're renting a parking space in Manhattan? I'm absolutely impressed."

“Oh, no!” she exclaims. Then adds, "It's my roommate, Kate's. She's loaded."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

Yelena nods and you thank her as she lets herself in your car.

The parking turns out to be too narrow, and so Yelena has to get out before you slot your car in the spot securely. Afterwards, she asks you where you’re off to, and you tell her that you’re picking up a painting for your wife. You ask her to come with you when she expresses an interest in the gallery.

You reacquaint yourselves with each other on the long walk to Wanda’s previous workplace. The conversation is, for lack of a better term, enjoyable. Yelena has always been an easy person to talk to–a remarkable contrast to Wanda who is often a challenge.

“When did you come home?” you ask suddenly after a while of talking about your work and recent settlement at Westview.

“Two years ago.”

You’re taken aback by her answer, feeling a bit hurt as you process the new information. Yelena’s been here all this time. Why didn’t she try to contact you?

“My cell didn’t ring either, you know.” Yelena tells you as if she can read your mind.

“Nat didn’t mention anything. I assumed you were still in London.”

“Leeds. The British are right about us not knowing any other city in the UK.” Yelena chuckles. “I told Nat to keep her mouth shut about my affairs.”

Before you could reply, Wanda’s ex-colleague, Agatha, comes out with the painting in hand. Yelena saunters off to observe the artworks on display.

“Thank you, Ms. Harkness.” you say, accepting the piece that was about the size of Mona Lisa.

“Welcome, dear. Whoever bought this must be made with money.”

The painting is wrapped in manila paper and it makes you curious who it is for. It must be someone who held a high position at Wanda’s university.

You excuse yourself with a polite nod, unaware of the look of suspicion she directs at Yelena, as your companion trails behind you on the way outside.

“Someone’s got a crush on you.” Yelena bumps your shoulder with hers.

“Wanda seems to think so too. Though I bet she’s just a nice old lady.”

Yelena laughs and slaps your arm this time. “Dude, she’s not old, old !”

“Someone’s got a crush,” you tease her back. Then, as if on cue, a reckless motorist speeds through a puddle, causing a wave of wastewater to splash all over your shirt.

“Shit,” you hiss, frowning at the ruined fabric of your white button-down. Yelena takes out her handkerchief and proceeds to wipe the specks of grease from your neck and face.

“Come on, we have a washer in the apartment.”

"Sorry I couldn't come to your wedding."

The hot coffee you just sipped refuses to come down your throat.

Yelena snickers at the dumb look on your face and says, "I'm just messing with you."

Your veins pulse in your temple as you force yourself to swallow. Yelena’s having a field day with you, poking fun at you on every opportunity.

"I'm so sorry for not extending an invite. It happened pretty quick. It was just your sister and Clint, and then Wanda's brother, Pietro. Our reception was at a pub in Brooklyn, and just getting absolutely shitfaced." you rush out, toying with the sleeves of Yelena’s sweater you borrowed. It’s cozy despite the hot weather. And undeniably smells like her.

"I know, Nat told me. Hey, I'm not offended. Besides, getting a wedding invitation from you would've been weird because,” Yelena pauses, and then sadly says, “We haven't connected in a long time."

"Yeah," you agree with a rueful smile. You haven't spoken to or thought about Yelena since you met Wanda.

“What’s she like?”

“Wanda? She’s…” It dawns on you that it’s not easy to translate your regular daydreams of her into a description you’d share with someone else.

“Exquisite,” you say, after going over various adjectives in your head. “And driven and smart. A glass half-empty to my glass half-full.”

“I’m happy for you,” Yelena mutters over her glass of Merlot.

“And Kate? How did you meet her?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Who are living together,” you point out.

“Best friends then.” Yelena says, unperturbed.

You smirk. “If you say so.”

“I’ve dated around, but I never really found someone who could replace–” Yelena bites her lower lip to stop herself.

Except, she didn’t have to because you know.

You’re both quiet for a while, before you break the silence with, “Anyway, thanks for the parking and saving my shirt.”

"You did take my virginity. That's something I can never repay you for."

You’re too shocked to react–she is too, at her brazenness–that for a while you just stare at her with your mouth agape.

Placing the coffee mug on the table, you get up on shaky feet.

“Sorry, that was a bad joke. I–”

“You know what, I should go."

"Oh," Yelena gets on her feet as well. "But your shirt?” she asks weakly.

"I'll just continue drying it at home. And then," you look down at the sweater you borrowed from her. "I'll mail this to you."

"Don't worry about that, I haven't worn that in ages."

"I promise to return it."

"Okay."

"Alright, so," Not quite knowing how to say good-bye, you jerk your thumb towards the door. "I'm gonna head out now."

Yelena closes the distance to give you a hug, which she keeps short when you go rigid at the proximity of her body and yours.

"Bye, Y/N."

***

Wanda cancels dinner at the last minute. You’re surprisingly amenable and just text her when she’ll be home. You decide to cook for Wanda and try to convince yourself it’s not because you just need to keep busy and not think about what happened earlier with Yelena.

***

It’s Wanda’s day-off and she’s overslept. You watch your wife sleep soundly on her stomach, without a care in the world. Like this, the years fall away from her face and she looks like the girl you strongly want to protect for the rest of your days. Your eyes scan the room, until they fall onto the chair beside the bed. Hanging over it is a newly-bought lingerie with its tags still attached to it.

“Can you stop being a morning person just for today?”

You avert your gaze from the piece of clothing upon hearing Wanda’s voice still thick with sleep.

“Hi,” you greet your wife, twisting your wedding ring on your finger.

“Hi.” Wanda greets back, peeking at you from the comforter.

“I made breakfast, who’d you like to join me?”

“Sure, just give me a minute.”

You think about telling her you’ll wait until she’s ready and you can go together, but there’s an air of unfamiliarity and awkwardness hanging over your head–even worse is you don’t know where these feelings are coming from.

You don’t mean to count but it takes Wanda roughly twenty minutes to meet you at the breakfast table. It’s easy to force down your irritation when she looks immaculate and very put together.

Together, you eat in silence. You try to make conversation but in the end, Wanda’s responses are clipped and unfocused, so you just concentrate on finishing your oatmeal.

"You and I had a pretty crazy schedule recently, so I thought I'd take the day off and do something together." you say after waiting for Wanda to finish her meal.

"That's great, baby," Wanda smiles at you, before getting up to take the dishes to the sink.

Sneaking up behind her, you gently place your hands on the curve of her waist, and your lips just beside her left ear. For a while, you massage the flesh beneath your palms, feeling firm muscles instead of softness you're used to. Wanda's body has transformed right under your nose, and while you appreciate her more toned figure, you hope she's not being too restrictive with her diet.

"Leave them, baby. I'll do the dishes later..." You press an open-mouthed kiss to the skin just beneath her lobe. "...after I do you."

She squirms in your embrace, and you interpret it as a sign that she's getting turned on from your advances.

"Y/N–" Wanda doesn't get to finish her sentence as you twist her around and gently capture her lips. While she kisses you back with her hand coming up to wrap around your neck, she doesn't make a move to deepen it, seemingly satisfied with lazy pecks that end sooner than you'd like.

"Can I take you back to bed?" You inhale her scent soundly as you nose the length of her stupidly perfect jawline.

"I actually have to uhm–the laundry won't take care of itself." Wanda reasons, but doesn't really pull away from your hold. You take this opportunity to slide your hands up her back, beneath her shirt, and you can feel her goosebumps from your eager ministrations. Only now, being this close to her, have you realized how much you missed your wife.

Ignoring her excuses to thwart your affections, your fingers find the hook of her bra with ease. You snap it free and hastily move to grab both of her breasts, squeezing them tightly. "God, the things they do to me." You groan. She gasps at that, and by now, she should be pushing her chest towards you for more, but she remains slack as ever, like an obedient ragdoll under your whims.

Something's not right, you thought to yourself. You pull back just enough to check, and what you find has you swiftly stepping back to give her some space.

The expression alone on your wife's face could send you to jail.

"Shit, are you alright?" You rasp, overwhelmed with self-disgust at the thought of causing Wanda the slightest discomfort. Were you just about to take advantage of your wife without her consent?

Wanda looks at you with regret that you couldn't quite understand.

"D-Did I hurt you?" You dread the possible answer, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

Wanda quickly closes the distance between the two of you and envelops you into a hug.

"Oh, baby, no you didn't. I'm so sorry I made you think that." She coos, rubbing your back in soothing circles. You sigh against her shoulder, carefully keeping your hold on her hips loose.

"I just missed you so bad these past few weeks, and I thought you wanted to… it's okay if you don’t. I'm sorry."

It breaks Wanda's heart that you're taking the blame for this. She feels annoyed and guilty at the same time, at how apologetic and sensitive you are to her feelings, as if they matter more than yours do.

"It's not your fault. There's just so much to do and I can't get in the mood until I tick off everything on my to-do list."

"I know. I’m sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Wanda chastises and it comes out harsher than she intended. "You're perfect. I'm sorry. I miss you too. So bad."

"I love you." You tell her, burying your face into her hair to seek more of the lavender scent of her shampoo. It used to frighten you how much the little details about Wanda affects you in big ways. But that fear has turned into comfort, and you've grown to trust her enough to be happily vulnerable around her.

It doesn't worry you at all when she says she loves you back after a long, mysterious pause.

***

Wanda starts driving herself to work and attributes it to her inconsistent hours at the university for the rest of the term. Sparky’s in the dog daycare now more frequently than he is at home.

***

Wanda has gone up to take a shower before bedtime.

You just finished scrubbing the kitchen clean after having dinner together, and you're buzzing with the prospect of getting laid tonight. Your tactic to get your wife to sleep with you is to offer her a massage after witnessing firsthand how hard she's been working lately. In a way, you also want to show your appreciation for everything she still continues to do in the household. And although she accidentally burned the lasagna, she outdone herself with the roasted chicken.

It still amazes you to this day that you’re married to Wanda Maximoff.

Making as little sound as possible, you climb the stairs and towards the bathroom. You can hear the sound of water hitting the floor, and you can't help but imagine Wanda's naked body, lathered in soap, her brunette hair sticking to her clavicle. Your mouth waters at the prospect of taking her, pressing her against the wall and reminding her what you've both been missing for weeks. And just like that, your earlier tactic is out the window.

With practiced ease, you wrap your hand around the doorknob and twist it as gently as you can.

But something unexpected happens.

Wanda's locked the door. "That's odd." You mumble to yourself.

You decide to knock instead. "Baby?" You call out.

No reply comes for several seconds, and as you were going to leave, thinking she didn't hear you, Wanda's breathless response echoes through, "I'll just be a minute! Did you need something?"

"Hey! Uh, no. I was just going to–" You suddenly feel like an idiot wanting to sneak in for some surprise sex. "Never mind. You locked the door?"

"Oh, did I?"

"Yeah! It's fine, I'll just use the toilet downstairs."

She doesn't say anything else to that and you awkwardly turn on your heel to actually use the toilet downstairs.

***

You google ‘ how busy are part-time assistant professors’ on the second straight-week Wanda’s been going home later than The Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon.

***

Your best friend finally comes around and visits you in Westview. Although you wish it weren't on pitiful circumstances that warranted her special skills of exposing people and their secrets. Even to this second, you're still unsure if you really want her help. You can't even be sure of your own sanity. The only thing you know is that you feel more like yourself now that Natasha's here with you. You've made new friends in your new neighborhood and at work, been invited to weekend barbeques and the local cycling community. But the sense of being alone has never been this strong as when you were living in the city, barely keeping any sort of acquaintanceship and let alone a meaningful friendship.

“You know I don’t do this anymore.” Natasha claims with a huff. "And typically, consultation alone will cost you a grand."

“And I never thought I’d ever ask you to do this.” You shake your head apologetically as you help her deposit her luggage in the trunk of your old Mercedes Coupe.

“I still think you’re just overreacting.” Natasha says as she settles in the passenger seat. It's what you want to hear, but instead of pacifying you, they urge you more to dig for the truth of it all.

"Weren't you always telling me in college that Wanda's too boy-crazy to really be with me?"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Yup. But then she married you, and I lost ten bucks to a wager with Clint."

"You wagered on the most important event of my life?" It's the first time you're hearing that two of your closest friends gambled on your critical life choices. You're not exactly surprised per se, but it makes you curious about what made them choose which side of the coin.

"Well, no," she answers nonchalantly. "We wagered on almost everything. Like who would you lose your virginity to: Carol or Maria. Two beautiful women who had been throwing themselves at you for a whole semester."

"Who won that bet then?"

"Nobody. Remember when we bought you drinks after you finally slept with Wanda? That's where all the stakes went. We both lost."

"So after my marriage, what else did you put your money on?"

Natasha smiles. "None. That was the last of it. It's not right to give odds beyond a happy ever-after."

If she notices your deathly grip on the steering wheel, she doesn't comment on it.

***

Wanda's serving you the cold-shoulder for not giving her a heads-up about Natasha. You try to ask her why it's such a big deal, and she begins ranting about dinner portions and the “chaos” in the living room: some skewed pillows and a bundle of her students' reaction papers on the center table. Natasha is outside, waiting, so you try to help Wanda straighten the room but she merely dismisses you and asks you to drive for take-out.

"If it's too much trouble for you, we'll just get dinner somewhere." you say.

Wanda narrows her eyes at you murderously, as if you've just made things much worse.

"Fine," Wanda says with finality as she walks up the stairs. "Give my regards to Nat."

And then she's gone, but not before slamming the door of the guest bedroom shut.

You're absolutely fuming when you go back to the car and Natasha peers at you questioningly from the passenger’s seat.

"You in the mood for pizza?" you ask instead of explaining why you can’t still invite her in.

Natasha scrunches her nose in disgust. "Pizza in New Jersey? No, thanks. How about Chinese?"

"Sure." you nod in agreement, having already lost your appetite anyway. You toss the car keys at her. "You drive."

You're laying on your back, staring at the ceiling. Wanda hasn't uttered a single word to you ever since you got home from dinner with Natasha.

"She used to spend the night every week at our apartment." you whisper in the darkness.

"What?" Wanda mumbles and shifts onto her back as well with an arm draped over her eyes.

"Natasha," You clarify. "So it didn't cross my mind to inform you that she's visiting. It's just how it's always been."

Beside you, Wanda is mute as a statue. She does this sometimes–tune you out. Wanda claims it's her way of circumventing her anger and saying something she might regret.

For all you know, she could be telling the truth. But to you, it just feels like you're being punished.

"Wands?" you try. She rolls to her side with her back to you.

You're in hell every time you fight with Wanda. Returning to normal is not an option unless you fix it. You wonder if it's the same for her, or if it's something as trivial as running out of toilet paper or an expired carton of milk left in the fridge.

"Baby?" you try again. It seems like it's all you ever do these days. "Please?"

You hear Wanda release a ragged sigh.

"We're fine, Y/N. Let's just go to sleep."

You nod to yourself and finally let go of the tears you've been holding back. Subsequently, Wanda's cold hand reaches for yours and locks your fingers together. It makes you cry harder, but you can't let her know.

***

Natasha is still radio silent a week after you’ve asked her to spy on your wife.

It's not like her to be slow with the results. You take the lack of news as good news.

***

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Wanda's side of the bed empty.

"Wanda?"

"Hey, baby."

You rub the sleepiness off your eyes at the sight of Wanda’s puffy eyes.

“Are you crying?"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head. "Sorry, I was watching this movie. You know how I get."

You grin at that. "My big crybaby." You sit beside her on the couch and she snuggles to you.

For a while you stay that way, your fingers playing with her hair, and Wanda, palming your cheek affectionately. It brings you back to years before, when she was merely a close friend who would lay her head on your shoulder while she cried about some guy who didn’t deserve her. Like this, Wanda seems so small and vulnerable. You’ve come to realize a long time ago that whatever she’s done, or is to do, you will always feel the need to protect her at all cost. That was the last strip of armor you had given up when you decided to love her until the end.

Then all of a sudden, you see a flash of brown and you end up on your back as Wanda straddles your hips, her eyes darker than you've ever seen them.

"Take off your shorts." She commands in a rush, her own hips already starting a rhythm. You do as she says, but you only manage to move down your shorts and underwear past your ass, when you feel a finger swipe at your wet slit.

"Fuck. Patience, baby." you moan, feeling yourself get slicker.

"Don't have any," Wanda rasps and she sucks the very same finger into her mouth before taking over your undergarments and sliding them all the way down to your ankles. You've barely kicked them off before she spreads your legs and doesn't waste any time tracing your intimacy with her tongue. Her patience comes back eventually, but you're about to lose yours when she doesn't do anything else other than softly brush the tip of her tongue from your tight hole to the underside of your clit. She does this over and over and over, until your legs begin to tremble from being spread out like an eagle for what seems like an eternity.

You clench your core and try to come just from what she's doing, but it's not enough.

"Please, I need more." You manage a whisper although you're unsure if Wanda heard you.

"I've missed you so much, Y/N." You feel her say against your pussy. "I've missed making you feel good. Missed feeling this way with you..."

What way? You want to ask, but your brain is too muddled with lust to care.

You could only grunt in reply, before Wanda is pulling away in order to arrange your position on the sofa. You've almost forgotten how physically strong she is, and it turns you on so much, you nearly peak. Wanda grabs both of your ankles and pushes them back, until they're on either side of your head, near your ears. Heat spreads across your face and down to your neck for being exposed like this. Wanda takes a moment to appreciate the mess she's made between your legs, her teeth digging at her lower lip. You can't bring yourself to watch her watch you, and you stare at the same spot before you feel her lift your chin to kiss you in the most delicate way.

"I love you." She murmurs against your lips. Every fiber of your being is ablaze as you take in the smallest details of this moment: your taste that you two shared in a kiss, the mingling scent of your arousal and hers, the endearing sweat on Wanda's brow that's making her more desirable than any lingerie could ever. You'd never admit it to Wanda, but sex was something you only learned to want and need when you fell in love with her.

You smile up at her. "I love you. More than you could ever know."

Her face crumples in an aching manner, but before you can register what that means, Wanda has crawled back to the source of your pleasure and takes your clit in between her lips. She starts sucking at it gently, while her hands work their way to your buttocks and then spread your ass cheeks. In this way, both of your holes are exposed to the air, sending a chill down your spine and threatening to make you come any time soon.

A finger experimentally prods at your other entrance, making you whimper as your slick continues to brim in your cunt hole.

"Wands, gonna cum," you moan as you hold onto the edge of the sofa for dear life. Wanda ignores your warning and continues rubbing at your crimp hole, while her tongue quickens its laps against your clit. It doesn't take a few more seconds before you're bursting, and Wanda plunges her tongue into your pussy at precisely the second you start to come so you don't clench around nothing.

Soon enough, the tremors subside and Wanda wipes her mouth before she gives you a searing kiss.

You're still catching your breath when Wanda lays her head on your chest so innocently, as if she hasn't just given you the best orgasm of your life. You wait a few more seconds for your heart rate to go back to normal, and once they do, it’s only then that you notice that Wanda's still in her pajamas, fully clothed.

That needs to be rectified. Immediately.

Without a word, you get up with Wanda still on top of you. You make her wrap her arms tighter around your shoulders as you bring yourself into a standing position while she clings to you like a koala. Wanda laughs at your attempt to hold her up steadily, simultaneously impressed that you actually can.

"I've been going to the gym whenever my lovely wife's stuck at professoring ." You snicker at your own terrible wordplay, as you plant your feet firmly on the floor.

You miss the shadow of guilt that passes over her fleetingly. "I can see that," she says, biting her lip as she feels your straining biceps. You grin up at her, before carrying her upstairs as steadily as you can while she distracts you with kittenish nibs at your earlobe.

Once in the bedroom, you lay Wanda gently on the bed, your movements slow and delicate as if one wrong move could ruin everything. You start to undo the buttons of her silky top, holding her gaze with a look of adoration typically reserved to deities. It's only fitting because Wanda Maximoff is your religion.

"Wait, can you–" she glances at the night table to your right, and you understand right away what she wants. You quickly retrieve the flesh-colored strap-on at the bottom most drawer. And as you start putting on the harness, Wanda leans forward to capture a dusky nipple, effectively sidetracking you from the task at hand.

"Baby, just a sec..." You chuckle at her apparent neediness. Between the two of you, it's Wanda that's been more in-touch and expressive with her carnal needs. More exciting. More daring. More adventurous. She's always been more in everything, and you sometimes wonder if she's weary of leading the wallflower to the dancefloor all these years.

"Hurry." Wanda whines, her teeth nipping hard enough to play the line between pain and pleasure.

As soon as the harness is secured around your hips, you push Wanda back onto the mattress. You hook one of her creamy thighs over your shoulder, holding it firmly while your other hand aligns the tip of the toy to her slit. Pressing a languid kiss to her knee, you start moving your hips to brush your cock along the length of her drenched sex. Wanda moans lowly and unabashedly, and you feel yourself getting wet again.

"Fuck, baby, inside..." Wanda mewls, her hands traveling downwards to massage her own clit. You grunt in protest and seize her hand, interlacing your fingers together to prevent her from touching herself. Increasing the rhythm of your hips but still not entering her, you give her a warning, “ I make you cum.” It’s not like you to engage in any sort of powerplay in the bedroom, and yet you couldn’t help but let out some of the resentment that has built over the last few weeks through the sex you’re having with her now.

Besides, Wanda seems to love it. You look down just in time to see her wetness trickle down to the sheets. You groan loudly from the visual and roughly position her to lie sideways. You keep the thigh over your shoulder secured, while you straddle the other one. Moisture begins to form at the back of your neck, muscles straining to hold this position. Wanda’s face reddens as you stare at her weeping cunt, before her eyes roll to the back of her head as you unceremoniously enter her in one, powerful thrust.

“Fuck!” Wanda cries through gritted teeth, her French-manicured nails digging painfully between your knuckles. Unlacing your bruised fingers from her, you then wrap them around her throat. You’ve never done anything like this in bed before, and you watch in twisted satisfaction as Wanda’s lust-filled eyes widen in shock and slight panic. The way you're grinding into her is viciously savage, callously chasing your own high. Wanda tips her head back as far as she could, her chin pointing to the heavens as she experiences an other-worldly kind of pleasure. Your thighs grow slicker from your shared arousal, the stench from it filling your nostrils. Her hips try to match your tempo and an animalistic sound rips from your throat as your movements become more and more frantic.

"Shit, baby, I think I'm gonna–"

"No." You lightly squeeze around her neck.

"Please," Wanda sobs in frustration, staving off her impending release. You pay no heed to her request as you slow down your motion to keep her on the edge.

"Say it again." You demand.

"W-what?"

"Say you love me."

"L-love you..." The length of your spine curves as you bend forwards, pushing Wanda's thigh back in the process and opening her up even further.

Wanda whimpers at the new angle you're fucking her with wild abandon. "Jesus, Y/N. I can't-"

"One more time. Say it." You plead against her mouth, increasing the speed of your thrusts again, but this time you’re determined to finish her off.

With a sharp cry, Wanda clenches around your cock and comes, screaming those three fated words that are simultaneously your salvation and your undoing. You try to prolong her orgasm, alternately pausing and then jogging your hips, studiously watching her facial reactions and loving the subtle twitch of muscle in her jaw. A couple of tears run down her cheeks, and you lick them gently from her face. Letting go of her delicate neck, you run a free hand across her back, gathering beads of sweat along the way. Without pulling out of her, you drop her thigh on your shoulder with great care, before pressing your lower body down so that your pelvis is snug against hers. Wanda grabs your face with both hands and pulls you down for a searing kiss.

You release her lower lip with a wet pop and then like an eager puppy, starts peppering her face with featherlight kisses, making Wanda laugh and squirm in your arms. "You're cute," You tell her. "And so damn hot. How is that possible?"

Wanda blushes, overwhelmed by the ferocity in your words and in your eyes. She starts jogging her hips as your kisses become more insistent, but then an idea hits you. Embarrassingly, you've never done this with Wanda before, but this time feels as good as any to finally try it. Wanda shivers as you unsheathe your cock from her pussy, leaving a thread of wetness across her inner thighs. Afterwards, you remove the harness and place the drenched toy somewhere on the floor. Wanda pulls you back on top of her, a sleepy and satisfied grin on her face. She's prepared to call it a night when she feels your hand wandering back to the still feverish spot between her legs.

"What are you doing?" She asks coyly.

Instead of replying, you merely continue to trail south until your fingers find her slippery nub. Wanda gasps, back arching and eager for more. "Lie on your stomach and stick your ass up in the air for me." You whisper in her ear, and she obeys without a second thought. Abandoning her clit for a second, you crawl towards the foot of the bed, until your nose is a trifling inch from your wife's firm buttocks.

"Are you ready?" You husk, planting your chin at the base of her spine.

Wanda is almost convulsing in anticipation, and barely manages a nod. Heart beating wildly in your chest, you spread Wanda's cheeks with your thumb to reveal her puckered entrance. When Wanda finally understands what you’re about to do, her head whips over to look at you, but she doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Y/N?” Her voice is muffled by the pillow, small and unsure. You massage the back of her thighs to calm her down.

“I want to if you do.” You tell her sincerely. Wanda appreciates your touches staying in safe zones, making her feel safe and secured.

“It’s just… it’s been hours ago since I showered, it's dirty and I don't want to gross you out-”

“That’ll never happen,” You promise. “Whenever you were snotty from crying over your exes, all I could think about then was kissing you. I'd never not want you, Wanda.”

“Okay.” Wanda murmurs softly, shifting back closer to you. “I’m ready.”

“Good girl.”

You place a pillow beneath her stomach so she can comfortably prop herself up. Wanda’s breathing picks up when you part her cheeks again. This time, there’s no hesitation or wasted second as you lick a stripe from the entrance of her cunt to the rim of her backdoor.

“Да, да, детка!” Wanda yelps in her native language, impossibly turning you on even more. You could count on one hand the few occasions you’d been able to reduce her to a Sokovian mess, making her feel so good she forgets her English. Wanda's flavor there is different, more pungent and oh-so delectable.

"детка, I need-"

Wanda doesn't get to finish her sentence. Knowing exactly what she needs, you plunge your middle and ring fingers inside her wet heat. You feel her anus contract against your tongue, and you take it as a cue to enter her with it. Wanda thrashes violently on the bed and tries to move away from the intense pleasure that's bordering on pain. Eventually, you find the perfect cadence of plunging your tongue into her tight crevice every time you withdraw your finger from her pussy and vice-versa. Wanda, on the other hand, finds herself wantonly humping the pillow, practically grazing her tumescent nub.

All of it lasts a few more seconds before you feel Wanda's imminent little death. You stop moving your fingers to allow her to take over her own release, until finally, Wanda collapses on her stomach. You lick your fingers clean before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You pull the blankets up to cover both of your aching bodies, before settling beside your wife. Wanda automatically lays her head on your breast and throws an arm over your stomach. You kiss her sweaty forehead, and right before you are about to close your eyes, something wet hits your flushed skin.

"Wanda, hey," You search her face, your eyebrows creasing in worry. "Are you alright?"

She smiles through her tears, nodding. “I am now.”

Your own eyes glisten, a wave of relief passing over you. Right now, with the way Wanda's looking at you, it's like you're finally waking up from a long, terrible dream.

***

When Natasha finally calls, you’ve practically forgotten about hiring her to investigate Wanda.

You’ve had a perfect week with your wife. Things weren’t just back to normal, they were even better not only in the sexual aspect of things (though insatiable doesn’t even begin to describe Wanda nowadays), but you’ve been talking and doing things together more than ever.

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha’s rough voice comes through.

“New phone, who’s this?” You try to joke.

“Hilarious, Y/N,” you hear her try to lighten up her tone, but for someone who used to work for the secret service, she’s terrible at hiding her emotions from you. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to call you since early this week. I just didn’t have the time…”

You’ve known Natasha longer than anyone in your life who’s not your parents. Wanda’s the love of your life, but Natasha’s your person. You understand each other beyond words and actions.

“Nat, what’s going on?” you ask.

“I saw them, Y/N. T-Two days after you asked me to… they went for a movie at a worn-down theater 3 miles from the university. I waited for them to leave and when they did–” Natasha hesitates to tell you how she’s seen them together. “I can’t tell if there’s–if she’s… I can just show you the photos.”

You don’t say anything for almost a minute, and Natasha waits for you quietly.

And then, “Is that all?”

Natasha draws in a long breath. “No.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming. And then, like a man on trial waiting for their verdict, you nod to yourself and square your shoulders.

“Alright. Tell me everything.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #category: angst #category: smut #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maxmoff x y/n #my writing #marvel

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stevesjockstrap · 1 month

Text

I Hear the Morning Calling

For Monsterfucker May better late than never

Heavily inspired by @safk-art demo!Steve art 😍

Steve/Eddie | read on ao3 | rated E | post-Vecna, demogorgon Steve, monsterfucking, blood and gore

“We’re losing. She’s not able to do it. We have to do something,” Nancy hissed next to him. Vecna had been shaking violently from his viney suspension but now he was eerily still. El’s plan seemed to be falling apart at the seams.

Steve looked around for anything he could do to save his friends. They’d already used all of the Molotov cocktails and Nancy’s shotgun shells.

Vecna’s eyes popped open and stared directly at him for a long heart stopping second before they widened and closed off again. They were running out of time.

He looked desperately around at Robin who was clutching at her bag. He would never let anything happen to them. Then he heard Dustin screaming over the walkie. Everything was going to shit.

A burning hatred ran through him, sizzling through the exhaustion and lightheadedness he’d been pushing down since being attacked by the demobats. Before he realized he’d moved, he was sprinting towards the hideous hanging figure with a roar. Ignoring the girls’ cries from behind him, he leaped higher than he’d ever done during a basketball game, catching a vine in his hand before his open mouth closed over Henry Creel’s throat.

The hot thick blood shot down his throat, gagging and choking him but he held on. Taking multiple swallows of the bitter sludge automatically, he forced his jaw harder into the spasming muscle. Spindly fingers scratched across his back and legs, trying ineffectually to tear him off. The spurting of blood into his mouth slowed and he allowed himself to suck in a breath, yanking the vine in his hand.

Coming back to himself on the floor, he didn’t think he had been out very long. He could hear Dustin again on the walkie, Robin trying to get him to slow down to try to understand his loud rapid cries.

“They! Are! Coming!” Dustin’s staticky voice echoed through the empty room.

“Who?” Steve rasped. But then he felt it. In the back of his mind, a scurrying almost slippery feeling that was getting stronger. “The bats. They’re coming for us.”

“What? Steve, what the hell is going on?” Nancy’s no nonsense tone made him try to rethink what he had said.

“I don’t know. But we gotta get out of here.”

Scrambling to sit, he was pushed back down to the ground by Nancy and then Robin.

“Settle down. If the bats are really coming, we’re better off inside.” Robin made sense, but something was telling him they needed out of this house. Out of this room.

He looked around, and saw Vecna’s body. It was essentially ripped to shreds, his head barely connected to his neck and several bones poking out in cruel angles.

“Um, yeah, there’s that question, too. But I think I’m just going to erase that from my memory,” Robin winced.

Getting out of the upside down after that was a blur. The bats circled them, screaming wildly and zooming over their heads as they ran towards the trailer park, but none of them touched the group.

Eddie was a mess. Nearly grey, almost as torn to shreds as Vecna. But Steve was able to feel a very slow pulse, so he quickly slung him over his shoulder and they somehow got everyone hoisted into the correct dimension.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

Steve’s head popped up from where it had slumped into his chest. He’d not left Eddie’s bedside once he’d been released from his own hospital bed more than a week ago. Nancy was propped against the doorway with a wry grin.

“Talk about what?” But Steve couldn’t meet her eyes.

Nancy hummed and pulled a chair over next to him.

“You can’t hide it from me, Steve. I’ve been on the receiving end of your overbearing self.”

Steve groaned, looking immediately at Eddie’s face. But just like every other day he’d spent looking at him, his eyes remained closed.

“I’m not sure I have words. Even to myself. Yet. But you’ll be one of the first ones to know, I promise,” he huffed.

“After Robin,” Nancy nodded.

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I mean, probably. And, uh, hopefully someone else is ahead of both of you in line.” He rubbed at his face, then raked a hand through his disgusting hair with a grimace.

“Go home, Steve. I’ll stay. I know your number. You need to take care of yourself before you can take care of the rest of us.”

After he showered, he flopped across his bed in just his towel and was asleep before he had another thought.

He stood above Eddie, the taste of blood in his mouth again. The bitter thick sludge that had come from Vecna. When he’d killed Vecna.

Eddie was wailing below him, fighting against him. He leaned down, catching his flailing hands with his own and felt his face split into sections, opening impossibly wide as he bit hard into Eddie’s neck.

He woke up sweating in his bed, tangled in his sheets. He ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror, feeling over his perfectly human face.

“What the fuck,” he breathed.

A quick call to the hospital confirmed that Eddie was fine. He chugged a glass of water, pacing unseeingly around his kitchen, still rubbing across his face.

For the next week, he would get these quick bursts of pain in his head, and pressure like a migraine but none of his normal tricks helped. He didn’t have a fever, actually his temperature seemed to be going down.

Finally he just pulled the curtains in his room, covered his head with a pillow because still the dimmed light felt like ice picks and went to sleep.

The shrill constant noise woke him, and at first he couldn’t place it at all, pressing his pillow over his ears more forcefully, sitting up with a curse as it echoed through his house.

“What??” He groused out into the phone.

Thankfully not reacting at all to his grumpiness, Dustin cried out, “Steve! It’s Eddie. He woke up!”

The nurses were insistent they go into Eddie’s room in small groups, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes at the huge congregation of people who were adamant about seeing their friend.

Steve, Robin and Nancy stood surrounding his tiny frame in the hospital bed, somehow this sleep looking more peaceful than the last. Steve shifted on his feet, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the nauseousness from the hospital smell.

“Eddie?” Nancy whispered, unable to help it.

Their friend twitched, his eyes flicking open quickly before closing again. “Why’s it so bright?”

Steve chuckled, thinking the exact same thing, and went to turn the lights off in the room.

“Thanks,” Eddie grumbled. The lack of use showed in his voice. Robin held out a cup with a straw and helped him take a few deep gulps. “Fuck, can you give me the Reader’s Digest version? Did I get hit by a train? A UFO? Did I eat the mystery meat in the cafeteria?”

They all snickered, Nancy sobering first. “You don’t remember at all? What’s the last thing you can think of?”

Eddie frowned, looking down. After a few moments of thinking hard, he looked up, shocked. “Chrissy, oh god. Chrissy is… and then Patrick in the lake. Fucking hell. Okay, I’m getting pieces now. The bats- is Dustin?”

Steve interjected quickly, unable to take the look on his face, “Dustin’s fine. You saved him.”

Eddie nodded, pulling in deep breaths. Steve reached out, taking his hand and breathed his own small breath of relief when Eddie held onto it.

“Everyone else?” Eddie grimaced.

“Banged up, stitched up, but alive and well. Well, uh, except for Jason.”

“No loss there,” Robin and Eddie said at the same time, grinning sardonically at each other afterwards.

The nurse came in the room and explained the teens were not waiting very patiently in the waiting room, and they agreed to swap out.

“Going straight to hand holding, huh? King Steve and his kindergarten moves,” Robin elbowed him.

Even more weeks later, Eddie was finally released from the hospital and Steve helped him up the steps to their new and improved government issued trailer. They’d offered them a house but both Eddie and Wayne had quickly declined. They were used to the trailer and the trailer park, but they could use another bedroom.

“Home sweet trailer,” Eddie laughed as he bounced on his new bed. Steve winced, worrying about his stitches still. “Don’t give me that look, mother hen. I’m fine.”

Steve sighed and waved him off, plopping his meager bag of stuff down on top of the dresser.

“Hungry?”

Eddie grinned at him. “Always.”

“Come in Eddie, helloooo? EDDIE COME IN, over.” Dustin’s loud voice echoed around his nearly empty room. Groaning, he sat on the edge of his bed for a second while the stars cleared from his vision.

“I’m here, Dustin,” he sighed.

“You’re supposed to say over. Over.”

Rolling his eyes, he laid back down with the walkie. “I’m over this conversation, Dustin. What was the voluminous emergency?”

“OH! Have you seen Steve? No one’s been able to get a hold of him for more than a week, and we just got to his house and it’s… weird. Even for us. Over.”

Eddie frowned. He actually hadn’t seen Steve in a while, which was not like him. After Eddie had been discharged from the hospital, Steve seemed to take over his watch, volunteering to get him back and forth to all of his appointments and therapies. Standing now, nerves quickening and his stomach tightening, he looked down at the walkie.

“Weird how? Over.” Ah shit, the kid had gotten to him.

“He’s built like a creepy nest, with leaves and sticks, but, uh-“

The silence hung heavy in the dark of his room, and Eddie shivered. He pulled back his curtains to peer out the window, suddenly feeling like he was being watched.

“Spit it out, Dustin,” he grumbled.

“Alright, but you asked. There’s a lot of your stuff in the mess… like a few of your shirts a-and the vest you gave him? It’s like he’s been sleeping with them. Over.”

As his eyebrows shot up at this news, something moved in the shadows outside the window. There was a flash of reflective eyes, too far off the ground to be the stray cat that he fed. Human’s eyes don’t reflect.

“O-okay Dustin, thanks for the nightmare fuel. Get home, it’s already almost dark. I’ll let you know if I hear from him. Over and out.”

He nearly dropped the walkie when the shadow moved again, closer to his window and he got a flash of jeans and brown hair. Thinking quickly but somehow not at all, he shoved the walkie into his back pocket and rushed out the front door.

Not allowing himself to call out to him, clearly he didn’t want to be found if he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a week, he tried to sneak as quietly as possible around the side of the trailer.

A noise a few feet away had him pausing, opening his eyes wider to try to see in the darkness towards the woods. It was eerily quiet, usually the trailer park was full of noise, even at night, car doors and people laughing and chatting, dogs and birds going on and on. All Eddie could hear now was his own heart beating in his ears.

His eyes jumped to follow the next quick movement, just inside the edge of the woods. Another flash of that perfect hair. Like Steve was beckoning him to follow. And Eddie was dumb enough to be lead.

Inside the tree line, Eddie couldn’t see much. But he could follow the small noises and what was surely intentionally snapped twigs under Steve’s feet.

Panting, he stopped to lean against a tree, “Fuck, where are we going, man?” He was getting irritated. Steve would know that he’d graduated from PT but he still couldn’t be walking miles through the woods.

There was a small huff that sounded close, almost sarcastic. Very like Steve. Then a cold hand was pushing his hair away from his face, resting on his sweaty forehead.

A stream of moonlight or a stray streetlight fell across the face in front of him, and he almost screamed. Steve’s eyes piercing into his own and that attractive mess of hair on his head compensated well for the rest of it, the petaled mouth and rows of teeth that appeared as he was apparently breathing in Eddie’s scent.

“Steve? Wh-what happened?” Eddie was proud of himself for not bolting away, seeming frozen to the spot at Steve continued breathing him in, the clawed hands running through his hair and grasping his hip.

One shoulder was raised and lowered, like the world’s most apathetic shrug. As if his newly transformed self wasn’t even worth discussing. But the way Steve was looking at him and touching him was sending warm buzzing down his spine, tightening his belly. And his own jeans.

Steve seemed to figure this out quickly as well. Could he smell it? Eddie groaned and then gasped when his giant wet mouth descended onto his neck, grazing those dangerously wicked teeth down his skin.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed. “Why is that so hot? I should be like running for my life. Ah!” His hips bucked forward as sharp claws ran down his chest, instantly shredding his already hole filled shirt. He could only pant and throw his head back against the tree as the assault continued down his front, then as he felt the cold hands approach his jeans he gasped out, “Hey, okay, let me do that, huh? My favorite jeans, you know.”

The salacious look he received in response could only be from one Steve Harrington. He almost laughed but instead moaned as the gaze went down to follow his hands, the shaking hands fighting against the button and zipper of his jeans. Maybe he should have let him rip them to shreds.

An inhuman growl left Steve when the jeans and his plaid boxers were kicked off his bare feet. Unable to help himself, Eddie wrapped a hand around his dripping cock as he watched the terrifying mouth open, saliva running off the petals and rows of teeth.

“God I am a freak, after all,” Eddie chuckled. “I’d apparently feed my dick to a wood chipper if it was attached to Steve Harrington.”

A vaguely appreciative noise rumbled out of the mouth in question, and Eddie couldn’t believe this was real as the monster in front of him lowered slowly to his knees, looking up under his still gorgeous eyelashes to peer at his hard length.

“If you kill me, can you make sure no one finds my body? I don’t want Uncle Wayne thinking I got myself into even weirder shit than usual.”

His train of thought quickly evaporated as a rough tongue came to slide up the underside of his cock. Trying his best to hold completely still, wary of all the teeth, he just watched as Steve wriggled closer.

“Don’t judge me if I come or pass out instantly please. I, um, I’m not the most experienced. And this is, well, this is a whole lot to take in.” He knew he was rambling, filling the uncomfortable silence between them and the woods.

The eyes staring up at him seemed unbearably patient and forgiving, however.

“How much of you is in there,” he wondered aloud.

Steve blinked at him and what could’ve been a smirk passed over his features before his cock was enveloped by the petaled mouth. His own mouth flew open, ready to scream at the pain he expected. But he only gasped as he realized the teeth were only just grazing him, creating an almost pleasant scratching tingly feeling, and the tongue was able to keep sliding under and around the head.

“Oh my god, Steve,” Eddie panted, unaware as his hands slid into the feathery locks. “Oh, oh sorry!” Yanking them away, he received the first actually scary noise and look.

The mouth left him and an indignant huff resounded from it. “Want it,” Steve growled.

Eddie nodded quickly, holding back the laugh at the petulant frown and statement. “You got it, Stevie. Just please keep going.”

With another small grumble, Steve waited for the shaking hands to return back to his hair before he allowed his mouth to wrap around his cock again.

He was glad the tree was there to hold him up, since it seemed Steve was going to give everything he had to this supernatural blowjob. Eddie didn’t direct him with his hands so much as just hold on for dear life, while moaning and gasping along.

“Please, gunna-“ Eddie almost screamed as the mouth was instantly pulled back.

“Not yet,” Steve rasped. “Turn around.”

Clawed hands assisted him pivoting to push his forearms against the rough tree, widening his stance to allow the wicked mouth behind him to — “Holy mother of Zeus!”

The rough tongue circled his hole as a wet hand wrapped around his cock, the other pulling at his thigh to encourage him to rut back and forth. He whimpered, unable to collect enough brain cells to form a sentence now.

“P- oh, please. Steve!” Everything stopped and a soft questioning noise came from behind him. “Can I come on your cock instead? Or, uh, next time? Sorry, didn’t mean to, uh-“

What could only be described as a giggle left the terrifying mouth behind him, and Eddie’s hand was pulled from the tree and licked.

“Yours.”

The hand was then pulled back towards his own hole and he tried to nod his understanding. He did not want the claws inside of him either, thank you.

“Jesus Criminy,” Eddie whispered as Steve used his own fingers to push into him, licking around the digits to encourage him to open up. The feeling of the rough clawed hands around his wrist as he fucked his own hand into himself was almost too much. Finally when he thought his brain was going to leak out of his ears, his hand was pulled back and released.

Then a blunt object was pushing against him and he saw stars. “Slow, oh my god, a little slower, baby.”

The name didn’t seem to phase him at all, but he got a soft noise and the cold hands held onto his hips as he pressed forward.

“Want it hard, but just- ah, once it’s in. God you’re big. Is that, like, a monster thing? Or just you?”

The cocky laugh he received didn’t exactly answer the question, but then he was pressing further in and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He wrapped his own sweaty hand around his leaking cock, whining and crying out as Steve fucked him hard yet holding him so gently with his clawed hands. As he got closer to coming, he leaned his head back onto Steve’s shoulder. He came spectacularly just as he bit into his neck.

When he could breathe and see again, jumping into his jeans, he found the walkie still shoved into his pocket. With a simpering look at demo!Steve sitting naked against their well-used tree, he pushed down the button.

“Hey, uh, Henderson. I f-found Steve. But, well, he’s a lot different now. Over.”

Title from Waiting in the Garden - Noon Shift

#stmonstermay #demo!steve #demogorgon Steve Harrington #steddie #stranger things smut #mine #monsterfucking #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic

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nix-xin-art · 2 months

Text

//SPOILERS FOR HSR 2.2 STORY

It’s 1AM and I’ve finished the latest update for HSR

So let’s talk about it, and by talk I mean let’s write out a few paragraphs about my wildly running thoughts and feelings about my husbands

FIRST OF ALL, let’s talk about Gallagher. The man that you are, I never stopped being a Gallagher apologist and I’m so happy I didn’t. The fact he’s so laid back and nonchalant about having dormancy as a pet is actually such a serve on his part.

I think Gallagher in particular had a cool little story here, with the introduction of his actual connection to Mikhail being so fucking sad man, I need to give this guy a cwtch because Oml. The scene where he showed his frustrations towards Mikhail were some of my favourites, he gets a little bitter about Mikhails unwavering faith in the express. And in my brain I’ve interpreted that bitterness as a regret that maybe he could’ve done more for him, maybe been something else to have faith in dispite Gallagher not having a faith for himself.

A tasty tidbit that I enjoy from Gallagher is also the fact he calls Sunday ‘Mr Wings’ as a snarky nickname. As a Gallgher enjoyer and a Sunday slapper I enjoy that.

As for why I have ended my friendship with Sunday: Welt.

This is all I have to say, my man wholly trapped welts consciousness in his own to take him as a bargaining chip for the express, eventually hoping to trap the rest of the crew too. I don’t like that.

Im all seriousness though I do like the way all of that was handled. Welt was on his self sacrificial bullshit again and ended up getting himself into possibly detrimental trouble AGAIN. When will this man learn? It’s been 80 something years mr yang, reflect, I beg of you.

Another side tangent. The fact welt immediately understood something was up with Sunday? The fact welt immediately understood there was something wrong with gopherwood. This man never misses and I love it. I’m convinced that the reason he had to be split from the main group in 2.1 was because he would’ve seen through Gallaghers lies in an instant.

Especially since he brought up Gallaghers suspicious history lesson detour as soon as he heard about it.

Im so normal right now oh my god I need to go bounce around the walls for a bit

Also, side side tangent. The scene with the trailblazers and Mica? (Was that his name? The grave keeper in the dreamfulx reef) When welt is mumbling and he just says “huh? Were you talking to me?” I know for a fact that hoyo doesn’t skimp out on the tiny details and even himeko made a noise of confusion in that scene (if I remember correctly of course) but I might be looking too deeply into that.

Also. What is with penacony and having such plot relevant 4* characters. First it was Gallagher, now it’s Misha??? Hello??? I’m loving this 4* love.

NOW ONTO BOOTHILL. I love that guy he’s such a dumbass in all the best ways. I’ve read through the leaks of his story and… oh boy… knowing what k know… ‘I wouldn’t want to interrupt such a long awaited reunion’… currently kaying my ess.

Then there’s Acheron. Acheron has played a huge part in all the story quests of penacony so far and I’m actually starting to really warm up to her, it might’ve been mostly because abuse of her cutscene with Tiernan. That shit pulled at my heartstrings in all the most painful ways. Also the art in these cutscenes???? Hello??? Hoyo are really popping off with these. I was looking at all the little rendering details like a goddamn owl.

Lastly I wanna talk a little bit about the boss battle for this update… specifically the design of that thing… oh my god it’s gorgeous… this massive robot angel that’s also a conductor, it’s such a gorgeous design I just start kicking my feet and rolling around the floor, the boss design in this game is goddamn beautiful. First Phantilia now this.

#please keep in mind these are just my personal thoughts and feelings #some of this might be misinterpreted I haven’t been able to look through other peoples thoughts yet #these are just my first impressions #hsr penacony #honkai star rail #hsr gallagher #welt yang #gallagher #boothill hsr #acheron #hsr #rambles #nix is normal

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randomyuu · 10 months

Text

the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

My guy Vox once again graced us with lovely Goyuu fanfics, and the way it follows you home, the stories i never told, made me go FERAL.

Time travel? Two Gojou Satorus? Double affection for our sunshine Yuuji? Yuuji sandwich? What feels like possible continuation of (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become???

FUCK.

I need to stop indulging my imagination too much. I should’ve been content with writing long-ass comments but noooooo, my brain goes “you gotta draw it”. DAMMIT VOX, YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITINGS HHHHHH

So… usually I should’ve picked a favourite scene that is within my drawing capability, but I just… love all three chapters??? So I made a questionable time investment? I can’t stop??? Help???

This is probably the most ambitious fanart project I’ve ever done so far. Fair enough, considering I might combust if I keep these welled-up emotions inside from reading Vox’s Goyuu fics. Fuck.

Fic info:

Title: the way it follows you home, the stories i never told

Author: @voxofthevoid

Pairing: YuuGoGo. Future!Yuuji, Future!Gojou, Teen!Gojou

(idk why I laugh writing YuuGoGo. I’m beyond help)

Currently, it is 3 chapters out of 8. And it’s gonna be NSFW chapter 4 onwards, so don’t forget to read the tags first, folks!

The drawings are under Read More, because I have lots of thoughts surrounding each chapter and drawings. It’ll be hella long if I didn’t hide it here. It was a mess down there. A combination of hours before, during, and after I read said fic. I’d say good luck finding the art among the sea of jumbled words but… you’ll find them easily. Don’t worry about it haha

SPOILERS FOR ALL 3 CHAPTERS! I highly recommend reading those first before diving into these drawings!

Also for the comics, read from right to left please!

From here on, I will be referring to the Future!Gojou as Gojou and the teenage one as Satoru.

Overall, drawing all these is fun! Really fun! This project pushed me quite hard, forcing me to test my limit (because I rarely draw this much back to back). Since this is a combination of drawings and comics, the coloring style will not be consistent. In a way, I want to try some brushes I never get to use, as well as try out my new graphic tablet. Drawing these got me giggling because I was finally able to let loose during line art. It's much easier to do so, and sometimes I just get to reread the fic and giggle to myself for the nth time.

CHAPTER 1:

Whooo. Whooooooooo—

Ok, ok, the premise is just that good. It intrigued me, fascinated me, and I just… oomph. I cannot refuse a Time Travel Yuuji Sandwich. Sign me up.

Honestly, there are two scenes that are just… a bit too clear in my mind when reading this chapter. That would be the one I drew above, and the other is when Yaga called Gojou to come outside of the class. I love, loooove how Vox wrote Satoru’s POV. And when Yuuji fucking giggles?

I lost it.

Can you imagine, drawing Yuuji grins, with shiny stuff, maybe some sunlight, just purely happy and indulging Gojou?

Help me, for I am drowning in my love and adoration for Yuuji.

Page 2 is an experiment on using harsh black as shading (kind of?). I really enjoyed colouring Yuuji, and drawing those buffalo skulls! I wish I can grasp the concept of contrast a bit better tho :v

CHAPTER 2:

This is probably the only chapter where I picture still images instead of comic panels. A bit like those cool chapter covers in mangas. The one I really, really want to draw is the scene with Satoru on the table. Can’t pass the opportunity to highlight Satoru being a brat, albeit a really cool brat.

Cool idea drawing always proves to be a challenge, because of course my artistic skill just so happens to be below the requirement. Thank you, Sketchfab, for the chair and desk’s perspective otherwise I’m screwed lmao

The second scene that I want to draw the most is this:

Gojou is one step away from climbing Yuuji. Also, I have a bit of a problem picturing a man pouting that makes him look crazy instead, so please have Gojou pouting adorably instead. Because, as Yuuji said (with love), Gojou is (also) a brat.

This is possibly my favorite art in this project, after Yuuji's in Chapter 1 page 2. It's clean because I don't have to draw background, and I was having a fun time drawing Yuuji. And Gojou's squishy cheek as well.

Oh, actually, there is a “manga” scene in this chapter. It’s when Yuuji said, “I love Satoru.”

I just—

AAAAAHHHHH YUUJIIIIIII YOU AND VOX ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. That secure relationship between Yuuji and Gojou? Satoru’s description of how Yuuji’s smile could blot out the sun??? Not me screaming 💀 I also see bits of hints of possible co-dependency, though I could be reading those wrong, but either way I’m good. Secure and possessive relationships are fun to consume hhhhhh

But yeah. There are too many wholesome Yuuji smiles in this fic, and I… I am not confident enough to draw genuine happiness. It’s too much for me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

For this chapter, another reason why I chose these two scenes is just because I want to try and draw cover-worthy pictures of Yuuji and Satoru, and Yuuji and Gojou (cough)

CHAPTER 3:

We start the chapter with Nanamin. Ah, Nanamin. I forgot what his teen self looked like and was surprised to see his design again lmao

I want to draw Yuuji and Nanami scene because… I just want to, I guess. I have never drawn him before (Yaga as well) so that's an interesting challenge. I got two ideas on how I want to draw it. One is a bit painting-esque, and the other one is like another chapter cover. In the end, I chose the cover one because I want to emphasise the difference between teen!Nanami and the Nanami from Yuuji’s original timeline, and how the watch feels like a connection between the same (yet not) person. It’s a bittersweet feeling? In a way?

I’m not really good at explaining my intention ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

I love Yuuji’s answer to Nanami's question.

AND FINALLY.

A Yuuji SandwichTM scene.

And oh B O I do I love it. Have I told you I like every chapter? I probably have. But this one? Satoru’s curiosity, Yuuji’s on-brand self-deprecation, and Gojou come strolling down to show more of Yuuji to his mini-self. I want to draw this whole scene, from Gojou finding them, feeding Yuuji snacks, bitch-slapping Satoru into the backroom, to Yuuji growling. Them trying to hide a boner from Yuuji’s growl got me cackling so hard I LOVE IT 😭

I love it all. Please love Yuuji in my stead, Satoru and Satonyan :3

Oh! Also! 40-finger Yuuji sounds really, really cool! I’ll be happy with whatever Vox will give us in future chapters, but 40-finger Yuuji… possible scene with this timeline’s Sukuna… my god. The action! The drama! The bloodshed! One can only hope.

However, as much as I love that whole scene, it’s still too much for me :”) I’m still not yet confident in delivering the humour and action. Also my already-long drawing plan had my brain groaning in protest so I can’t push my luck :'D

When Gojou said "He looks sweet, but he's a bit of a beast", I kept picturing Yuuji staring innocently, but there was an edge to his look. As if the moment Satoru looks away, he will pounce. But in the end I just stick with innocent-looking Yuuji because I accidentally drew his eyes that way and I want to keep it in lol

Since Satoru points out how soft and cuddly Yuuji is, I also want to draw soft Yuuji :v

And the last one… is the last scene. For some reason, I read that both Gojou and Satoru share Yuuji’s lap and was having a frustrating yet fun time figuring out how it’s… physically possible, without having their butts on the ground because they both are not small at all. As I lined the art, I reread it again and… perhaps I read it wrong? Satoru is beside Yuuji, and not on his lap? So yeah, this one might be the least accurate, but hey, at least you can view it as a crack drawing or something :v

AAAANNNDDD I HAVE EXCEEDED TODAY’S BRAIN CAPACITY OF FORMING WORDS

Have I told you I love this fic?

…I probably have.

Have an amazing week (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

#yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk ship #jjk-ship #五悠 #goyuu #goyu #5u #gojou x yuuji #speedrun this bad boy of a project in 3 days #from planning #now I can sleep in peace

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mokutone · 2 months

Note

Hey I hope it’s okay to message you! Just wanted to check in on how you were doing… I wanted to DM you but I’m way too shy, I wanted to let you know— in 2023, after four years of complete silence, your art inspired me to start creating again. From 2019 to 2024, I was completely run dry. I didn’t create a single piece of art! But seeing your wonderful drawings, the way your compositions seemed to breathe life into your art, and your gorgeous use of colors… helped me to start creating art once more! It’s almost a year since then, and I’ve still been steadily creating. Thank you so much for bringing joy back into my life!! I had forgotten that it existed all along… I appreciate you and your art so much, I hope that you have many happy things to smile about. Peace and love 🫛🤍

i've gotten a handful of asks gently prodding me to make sure i'm alive (theyre very sweet) and i'm answering this one only bc it touched me deeply if i wait a while to answer it i know the asker won't get alerted so! 1) it's definitely okay to message me! but, that said: i probably will not reply to most asks for a very long time (sorry!) 2) that is, i think, the sweetest thing you could possibly say to me—maybe to any artist. i'm really, really, profoundly glat that my art made you want to make art too!!! other artists have done this for me when i was stuck, and i am eternally grateful to them, and now eterernally grateful to you, for finding what you needed in my art, that's a beautiful thing, and it's an honor as an artist!! i hope that somebody is brave and kind enough to tell you that your art inspired them to create—its a feeling like nothing else. i'm SO, so glad, that art is bringing you joy again!!! 3) (as for how i am doing—life continues, in its own way. most things are not good, but some are! i've made a promise with myself not to post on this blog until i sort out some unfortunately very real life difficulties, and.......it's been a year and i'm still working on it! life continues. good days and bad days. i suppose i'm also in a bit of a silent period of my own at the moment, in many ways! it happens to everyone, and it'll end eventually for me too)

and, with that said—let the silence resume for now.

#follow up questions will probably not receive answers (sorry!)#i still love tenzō dearly and i still think about him fairly often #but i am being good. and i am trying to focus on the problems in front of me instead of creating new more fun ones w/ art #Sigh. It's What Tenzō Would Want Anyway.#one day i will return to your dash #things are just kinda strained atm

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igglemouse · 3 months

Text

Simón settled in the cushions of a cheap trailer home, staring down at a rug that had likely been planted on the floor so long that it now stuck to it thanks to the Oasis Springs heat. His thoughts churned of a past that he had so desperately clung to because she was part of that past. He was sure that seeing her again would give him some release, lure him into a contentment of what used to be but he found himself only thinking more about what could have been or maybe, what still can be.

He hoped that she would have changed. Made it easier for him. Slam the door in his face and shut him out, giving him the perfect excuse to move on, to let his memories remain memories instead of transforming into hopes.

Instead, she had done the opposite. She had welcomed him into her house and back into her life, without much hesitation at that. During their brief conversation he found that she had changed, he couldn't tell you exactly what had changed about her but it was enough to make her someone slightly different. She had put her trauma behind her...or maybe she had locked it up inside of her, either way, she was a stronger and better person now. That he could tell.

If only he had changed with her. In the end, he was the same guy in a new location. Just another lowly criminal doing a job he didn't want to do but one he needed to do.

He thought to get out, the trailer was cramped as it was and the heat, which seeped in despite AC, made staying inside uncomfortable. It was only slightly better outside there was at least fresh air and also a bright and energetic bark that put a smile on his face.

The rest of the trailer park might have been demotivating for others but for Simón it was exactly what he needed, it was change. Frida had told him that she would make her way to Simerica for that reason alone and he knew that if he were to find happiness it would only be due to change.

But only changing things that he could as he understood there would be no change to how he felt about Frida. He might have to win her heart all over again but he felt he was up to the task.

"Ziggy! What you been up to this morning, huh?" he calls out and gets a bark in reply along with the dog running up to him for more attention. He wasn't sure of the dogs breed but he was more than sure that it adored him and while he wasn't sure what the future held between him and Frida he had at least known that he had won the heart of this dog.

I feel like the more simoleons I make the more I need, or is it want? I'm not sure and perhaps the line is blurred. The recent surge of simoleons should make me feel content but then I think about how much I worked for what I have and how hard I worked and I begin to wonder if it is sustainable?

I could look for a job. Something a little more stable and certain? Maybe even look for a place seeking a line chef? It's an option, I suppose, but for now I'll focus on cooking for my own little stand. I make enough to pay rent but I do always want more.

My morning plan was more of the usual. A bit of cooking so that I can always keep my stand full, especially with waffles, but unfortunately I was going to need a new morning plan because the moment I turn on my waffle maker it pops, fizzes, and nearly explodes.

I sigh, calling a mechanic and pushing that plan to the side. Instead, tending my flower bushes since they are safe from exploding, at least I hope so.

I can't complain too much because I've found success in such a short time here, so much so that rent is no longer a looming presence. I'm not only able to pay it but I have a little left over to to add a pinch of flair to my home. Some hanging plants, art, and even a new television add some character to my living space. I find that I do like the finer things in life!

The surest way to more simoleons will be more delicious foods and now is the perfect time to debut tacos! I admit to being a little nervous, after all, people will see me and my stand and expect greatness from my tacos but I'm not quite sure they'll be at that level quite yet. Not only that but Oasis Springs has a pretty large Selvadoradian population who will also have their own expectations and I just hope to live up to them.

Despite my anxiousness I make sure I put my all into the process. Handling each step with care and the end result, I think, is a batch of tacos I can be proud of.

I'm not sure why I doubted tacos, never doubt tacos! I thought when I started that there might be some chance that I'll be able to have one myself, I usually take a plate of something left over after selling but there was literally nothing left.

I pulled in over 700 simoleons as a result and it was done pretty easily, if I might brag? Maybe the finer things in life are not so far away after all.

Being a content creator with a few fans paid well, well enough to where he could book a room at one of the more pricier places in Oasis Springs on a whim.

He wasn't going to be here long. Oasis Springs wasn't a huge city but it was nice enough to stay and probably better to live in and he felt it would be a nice detour before his usual annual summer trip in Del Sol Valley.

What he would do while here he didn't know but he was sure he could find some content in this dry desert town...

Episode List - Next

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #frida varela #simon barrera #ziggy barrera #ray booker

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savemebeel · 4 months

Text

Hello everyone,

I wanted to let you know that I will continue to edit, probably not as frequently as before, but I wish to continue doing what I love. I appreciate all the support I’ve received from the fandom for all the work I’ve done for you all.

I will most definitely switch up how I edit things to avoid getting in trouble but I would like to clarify some things. Never have I ever claimed any of the art was mine, let alone data mine for content. (I legit have no idea how to do that)

Some of my edits were used by other editors who are much more talented then me when it comes to editing. But every icon, wallpaper, and banner was edited by me thru ibisPaint. I wish to make that clear since my intention was never to pass that art off as my own.

One individual has gone on to report my account and tipped off Solmare of my presence on tumblr. They know who they are as they’ve been constantly tweeting abt me & are known to heavily support Solmare. I am not upset at Solmare as they are business & I respect their decision.

But as for this individual, their actions were not done in the best interest of that company, but more for themselves as they have a vendetta against me. All I’d like to say to them is, I’m over them. I have not spoken abt them or their friends in a long time.

Nor do I have any interest in doing so ever again as this beef has been going on for far too long. This will be the last time I ever address you Maon.

If you hate me then fair enough the feeling is mutual but to deny my influence to the fandom would be an understatement.

You of all people know what it means to share stuff like translations to the fandom so they can better understand the content from the game we both like. I am doing the same thing by sharing edits to hype others up into playing it.

I don’t gain anything from posting edits as I’m using my time & labor to do what I do. I gain no money or recognition for my work (just look at Pinterest) but I make edits bc I adore Obey Me, as flawed as it is, I’m still passionate about it.

The last thing I wish to say to you is leave me alone. As mentioned before I want nothing to do with you anymore. It’s clear you dislike me and I’m fine with that but all I ask is for you to let me do what I enjoy in my own corner of the fandom.

#obey me

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ozziethegreat · 7 days

Note

I'm not sure if this has been asked before, but what are your Delta headcanons? :D

HIII THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!

so I am usually terrified of these questions because of my crippling social anxiety, but I love Delta too much to NOT yap about him..

Alright so I’ve seen some other people (howls and sandee) talk about how he would have toxic masculinity and have difficulty dealing with emotions. I COMPLETELY agree with this, he absolutely would.

He would most definitely overwork himself in an attempt to prove his bravery and whatnot. He gets himself badly hurt in fights and proceeds to brush it off because he doesn’t want to look weak. (Loser)

So I like to headcannon that he eventually gets a service dog to help him with this issue, since the injuries were very inconvenient, and Epic and Color were worried for his physical and mental health.

If he ever overwhelms himself by running around and constantly helping people, the dog would do its job and force him to take a break :3

(I drew him with the doggy once) (its name is Zorox) (take a guess why)

Anyway obviously he would be opposed to the idea of a service animal because “that’s stupid, service animals are for disabled people, I’m perfectly fine” but Color and Epic forced him to for his own good.

He grew fond of the dog after a while, and accepted the idea since it was actually helping him.

Anyway enough of the dog, I wanna talk about him and Color.. 😣

So basically I’ve drawn ship art of them and I’d like to say I headcannon them as exes. Howls at some point said they could have been roommates in the Omega Timeline and I’ve just stuck with that because I’m not original.

I think the isolation Color went through made him very touch starved, and he attached to Delta because he was one of the first people he saw after a long time.

Delta, on the other hand, in general is a very social and friendly person (in his own ways), so he was just nice talkative to Color as he is to most people.

Anyway I think they dated because roommates lore /j

It ended up not working because Delta wasn’t very good with relationships, and his personality and morals clashed with Color’s. They broke up and stayed on good terms as friends 😋😋

As for Delta and Bravery, the two are literally just besties.

I think Delta initially had a father/kid relationship with Frisk, and he was extremely crushed when he failed to save them. It was like losing a kid basically, and he probably forced himself to help people all over to make up for his mistakes.

He ended up exhausting himself, and Core found him when he was having a mental crisis due to all of the guilt and stress he was put through, and he was later relocated at the OT.

As for Bravery, as Delta was recovering from his little guilt trip, he got to know the kid better and learned about who they were, their backstory, how they died.

He felt bad at first, convincing himself that he was just trying to replace Frisk to get over their death, but Bravery urged him not to have those thoughts because he wasn’t being “brave.”

Whining about the past wasn’t something a brave person would do. He should move on because dwelling on it wasn’t going to help him get better, or stronger.

Poor Bravery accidentally convinced him to push down his feelings 😭😭

But other than that, they just act like father and kid all the time, like best friends. Bravery offers him battle advice, keeps him from falling apart when things go wrong, and they work as a team.

In return, Delta takes the kids places they always wanted to see, lets them try new things, basically just letting them experience being a curious kid again, as they died WAY too early.

okay I’m done yapping because my phone’s about to die and it’s almost my curfew at camp 😣😣

PLEASE add to this if yall have more headcannons I love him :3

Delta belongs to animatedzorox

#sans au #utmv #delta sans #delta x color #epic sans #epic sanses #I promise I’ll talk about epic more eventually #anyway I kinda stole a lot of these 😔#I suck at explaining my thoughts lmao #live laugh love delta

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afreakingdork · 9 months

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 39

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Amazing chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Intercrural Sex, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello (TMNT), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Warnings Below Cut.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse and kidnapping

Please keep yourself safe.

Static.

Words.

Someone left a radio on.

No.

Sharper than that.

A speaker.

A phone call.

“-I know you ain’t second guessing my scanner!”

“You tell me then! No phone!? Who doesn’t have their phone on them!?”

“I’unno, but it sure as hell ain’t my problem.”

“There has to be something!!!”

“Boy!”

“A microchip! Maybe it’s too small to pick up!?”

“That’s not how it works!!!”

“Just stop trying to explain it to him; I gave up years ago.”

“The hell?! I’ve been working with you fools way too long to just let that go. You were looking right at me when I explained it to you last week!”

“Now…. let’s say… Hypothetically, that I was looking at a particular green that was stuck between someone’s teeth…”

“…”

Cough.

“I’m done. Over. Nada! That’s it! I’m going to unleash Mayhem and let him take you down.”

“What?! May loves me! He would never!”

Squeak.

“See!”

“No, I am not putting you on camera!”

“Uh, Leo…”

“Whatever, fine! Go through your snore sesh again then if you’re so adamant!”

“You-!”

Chirp.

“Fine.”

“Mhm.”

“Next time I see you, I’m slapping you for that tone.”

“Can it not be the face? I had a bruise for like six weeks last time.”

“It’s definitely going to be the face.”

“April!”

“Hush up and listen.”

Groan.

“The scanner connects to the natural energy of the body. It’s mystic! It won’t miss anything; it doesn’t matter how small, organic, inorganic, whatever! Your brainwashed victim isn’t brainwashed, augmented, or anything else. They have nothing hidden on or in them. There’s nothing whatsoever. Now say ‘I’m a dummy’ if you understood.”

“I’m a dummy.”

“It is no longer going to be the face.”

“Thank you! You’re the best!”

“Yeah, I know!”

“Alright… Guess that means we’re going with interrogation.”

“Hey, what’s up with this anyway? You’re being real cagey about a Hypno victim. He doesn’t usually put anything in anyone’s bodies, that’s more like…”

“…”

“No.”

“April.”

“No fucking way, Leo! I’m done. Out. Fuck this. Fuck you! I cannot BELIEVE YOU-!!!”

“I told you.”

“Mikey, not helping! April, please-!”

Click.

“…”

“Why did you put her in that position?”

“You complained, but you sure as hell didn’t stop me.”

“How am I supposed to, Lee? How is anyone supposed to-?”

“Y/N is awake.”

“What?!”

“They’ve been awake.”

“Raph, what!?”

“Since when!?”

There was a creak as someone stood up from an old chair.

“I don’t know if they’re at full yet, but at least a little over a minute.”

“Full what?!”

“They don’t look awake.” The voice came so close that you could feel their breath tickle your face.

They’d eaten something with pesto for lunch.

Launching at them with a snarl, they screamed.

“AH! NO BITING!” Mikey stumbled several feet back with his limbs in the air before he toppled over.

Your body shuddered from the movement as a constriction kept you from getting farther than you would have thought. Vertigo spun waves out from what should have been straighter lines as your head bobbed downward. Swaying without your control, you stared at the ropes tied around your torso. Tongue rolling in your mouth, you tried to complain, but what came out was an odd groan.

“E-easy…” Mikey’s hands turned to usher you from the floor as he crawled upright on his knees. “The spell wears off like waking up from a bad nap.”

Nap?

“Weren’t you working on a fix for that?” Leo’s voice griped.

Where was he?

“This is so wrong…” Raph’s voice added like a gruff beacon.

“So we’ve all heard.” Leo must have whipped toward him because there was a fast swish of some kind. “You won’t shut up about it, in fact! Neither of you will! If you’re so bothered, why don’t you just leave already?”

Mikey was coming closer.

You gave a cotton mouthed warble in fear.

“Because there’s no way I’m leaving this to both of you. Not after Mikey dropped the literal package! Not after you lied, Leo! This is way out of line!!”

Kick.

You had to kick.

When you did nothing happened.

He had said spell.

Was that why?

Straining, you reluctantly broke away from staring down the orange turtle to look down at yourself. Your legs were slightly parted and in line with the legs of a wooden chair. Closing your eyes to sharpen your groggy senses, you put all your effort into feeling your limbs. It came slow, but you caught uneven wraps that indicated your legs were tied. Then with a shuffle, you got your fingers flexed and felt the rough edges of ropes around your wrists. Blinking open with exhaustion similarly tied around your brain, you glimpsed Mikey sitting cross-legged right in front of you.

The horrified squeak that came from your chest was not something you were proud of.

“Mikey, back off!”

“Dude, I’d be scared of you too! Give, Y/N a break, would ya?”

“Huh?” Mikey whipped around with genuine dismay. “What did I do?”

“You almost killed them for one.” Leo walked over with his arms folded.

Blearily, the rest of the room was starting to manifest.

Raph was right behind him. “You knocked ‘em out!”

“Hey!” Mikey clicked his tongue and returned to you with huge puppy dog eyes. “You don’t remember that last part do you?”

Looking down from where you were trying to expand your map, you gave him a deadened glare.

“Oh, you remember…” Mikey grimaced.

Raph appeared as a tower and his hand dipped straight into the back Mikey’s beige button up. As the smaller turtle’s limbs shot out, his clothes took definition. His top was only buttoned on the last one which created a deep v to show off his decorated plastron and chain necklaces. He was then lifted straight off the ground which allowed his luna pants to drag. Hoisting Mikey high enough to level with him, Raph stared him dully in the eye. “Calm down, would ya?”

Leo gave an approving nod as he took Mikey’s place. “Now then.”

You had a few choice words that felt wet on your lips and gagged to your ears. Brow coming down as you surely had control of your mouth, you wound your jaw to find that the cotton you had been tasting was actual fabric. It tied tightly around your face, digging into your cheeks, and had soaked in a copious amount of drool. You translated your disgust with the sharpest protest you could make.

“Ears.” Leo announced before reaching around you.

You winced until you felt his fingers at the tie. As soon as it came loose you screeched at the top of your lungs. Throat on fire and body wracked of oxygen, you stopped only when black tinted the edge of your vision. It clung like a smoky fog as you panted and flicks of starburst spread out in wayward arches. Recovering enough breath so that you didn’t feel as close to losing consciousness, you lifted your head to find Leo’s palms pressed snug against the sides of his head. Just behind him Raph stood similarly with Mikey opting for fingers to his tympanum.

Slow and ready to put them back if need be, Leo removed his hands. “As someone who’s experienced that spell first hand more times than I can count, you should just about be able to recognize surroundings. Take a look, I’d save my breath if I were you.”

“You’re literally saying ‘try as you might.’” Raph rolled his eyes. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Do I-!?” Leo stomped away to throw a finger into Raph’s face. “Mister ‘You’re making a mockery of the team, Leo’?! All you’ve done is second guess me for months now-!”

Beside them, Mikey watched the pair with his fingers still to his head, looking back and forth as if he couldn’t tell what they were saying.

Over their bickering, you looked beyond as distance rendered in real time. Blinking wide, you found twinkling lights highlighting arches in what was clearly a subway station. All the usual markers of it were cleared away and looked as if they had been for years. Stairs fed on either side and the chosen furniture made it look like a sort of war room. There were several boards erected on one wall with tons of notes and pictures. Across it there were tables and chairs that came in a variety of sizes to appropriately fit whichever occupant. Looking down at your ropes again, your chair in particular seemed to be missing from its ancient dinner table.

“Enough!” Leo roared and you caught him slapping Raph’s hand from his shoulder. “You’ll back me up.” He turned and marched toward you with a quiet spit of, “You always do.”

Raph’s brow creased and his expression read torn. “You don’t give us a choice.”

Mikey unplugged his tympanum and it was the last thing you caught before Leo occupied all your vision. With a fling of his arm he caught the back of the chair and tipped it as he poured over you. “Why’d you pick Raph?”

Beyond him you could hear Raph give a growl of frustration.

“That’s… what you’re upset about?” You sounded breathy.

“I’m mad about a lot of things currently, but yes. I’m kinda miffed about it!”

“Versus…” You shook your head to clear residual clouds from your mind. “… you kidnapping me right away?”

“That wasn’t-!” Leo looked scorned and snapped away.

In doing so your heart shot into your throat as you tipped forward and your chair attempted to get back on all its legs. Thankfully, the clatter only rocked to a halt.

“Careful, man…” Mikey hummed, his voice rounding.

“Look.” Leo responded flatly, making his hand a demonstration where you spied the sunglasses he’d once worn. “If someone would bell his tail like we keep telling him, then the real plan wouldn’t have been busted up so fast.”

“It makes noise every, single, time, I move!”

“That’s the point, Reptar!” Leo rolled his eyes.

If only you could kick.

Leo was in perfect kicking range.

“Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“The plan…” He drifted out before straightening up. There, he blew out a breath and did a half-turn to address the room. “We were enjoying the farmer’s market like everyone else when I heard a distinct ‘Donatello is a villain’ from not too far away.”

Though you were tied up, your arms felt loose.

“I dipped to investigate and saw you and your friend. You telling her all about him.”

“You eavesdropped…”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly remorse on his face, but there were signs that he wished he hadn’t. “It ‘cleared up’ several things for me, but also a few glaring issues.”

Not knowing whether to scream or pale, you sat with parted lips.

“One, that he’s still active and two, that all the people tugging my ear holes had a point.” Leo turned to pointedly look at Raph and Mikey.

He received folded arms and a lolled head, respectively.

“You need to talk to us.” He addressed you. “Clear up what has become an insane misunderstanding.”

Forcing all your weight down, you managed a hop in the chair. “You fucking think!?”

“Yeah…” Leo’s teeth flashed and he leaned away. “Can I keep going?”

“I literally can’t stop you.”

He tried to force a smile, but it downturned along with the lengths of his arms. “Alright, so I took that new info to the guys and we agreed on that much.”

Raph made a noise that said that wasn’t quite right.

Leo didn’t turn, but his pupil darted in that direction. “We were going to snoop around where we were already shopping and see if we could covertly catch your eye for an amicable chat.”

Unable to focus on his stupid face, your gaze drifted up to his bald head.

He’d had a hat at one point.

Probably to cover it up.

“My ideal scenario was like this: me and you bump into each other at the jam stand. You ever try fig mostarda, by the way? Mikey put me onto it recently with chicken and prosciutto and mama mia!” Leo came up and pinched a finger to his thumb.

“It’s all about balancing flavor.” Mikey chirped.

Something about the response knocked Leo back into his point. “We’d meet. I’d recommend the mostarda. We’d try samples and I’d ask if I could borrow you for a talk.”

“And somewhere in there you faked free shit to lure my friends away.”

“I panicked! Raph got caught!!” Leo threw his arms out. “I wrangled Mikey and it was his idea! He’s friends with the jerky lady!”

“We met at a workshop.” Mikey chuckled.

“Then, you clearly felt like you were being ambushed and-!”

Your lids fell so far your eyes almost closed.

“I… turned it into a real ambush.”

Raph’s arms came undone for a hardy flick that said that was what he’d been waiting for.

Suddenly looking mortified, Leo only then seemed to take in the entire scene. “Fuck.”

“Wait, you didn’t realize until just now?” Mikey’s head leaned forward with utter disbelief. “Like right now?”

Leo shot him a guilty look.

Mikey let out a long whistle.

Raph smacked the back of Mikey’s head.

“Hey! What’d I do!?”

“You enabled him!!” Raph held out the same hand to gesture toward Leo. “He was in one of his moods and you went along!”

“For the record, I totally mentioned that earlier.” Leo held a hand over his mouth while talking to you at a normal volume.

“Double hey!” Mikey whipped his head around. “Leo’s plans work out! I was trusting the system!”

“You don’t even trust the regular system!” Raph pinched between his eyes.

“How could I?! Physics lies!” From where he’d sat cross-legged on the floor, Mikey began to lift off and float like a wayward balloon.

“Not everyone can do that!” Raph gave a big sweep so the air generated would blow Mikey away.

Spinning upside-down and bun hanging on for dear life, Mikey grinned with nothing but teeth.

“He gets to fly and have hair. Life truly favors the youngest.” Leo sighed.

“Let me get this straight.” You ground out.

They had no self control.

Leo turned toward you with honest interest.

“You try to stage what is basically some kind of fucked up meet-cute to clear the air, and when it goes wrong, you get me alone, use Raph as a distraction, throw the attention of the crowd, knock me out with magic, bring me to the subway, and tie me up to interrogate me!?”

Silence prevailed like an itchy blanket.

“When you say it like that, it sounds terrible.” Leo grimaced and was clearly sweating.

“Because it is!!! Why are you like this!? Who thinks like that!? It’s like you’re a cartoon character!”

It also sounded eerily familiar, but you weren’t going to get into that.

Raph made his way over.

Leo, nerves fried, went on high alert. “And where do you think you’re going!?”

“I’m untying Y/N. This has gotten way out of hand. You know it now so let’s knock it off.”

“No!” With a slide of outstretched arms and legs, Leo blocked his brother from you. “We still don’t know what they’re up to!”

With his height, you could see Raph set his face with irritation. “Leo, you heard April. They’ve got nothing. Which-” He looked at you. “-are you alright? Why don’t you have a phone?”

It had been a long day.

Your eyes closed as you rocked back.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense Leo whipping around at your hesitation.

“What… you caught the tail end of was…” Doubt held your tongue.

Here you were, miserable in having a front seat to their antics when your friends weren’t much better.

They just weren’t superpowered.

You paled at the thought.

Shoving the concept aside, you at least sympathized with how tired you were of all the damned misunderstandings. “… a fucked up not intervention because Coral, my friend that you saw, thought… Donnie was… hurting me…”

The two parties you could see stiffened with open worry.

“He isn’t, to be clear.”

“But she had reason to think so?” Leo took an honest step towards you.

“I don’t want to get into it, but yes.” You shot him what you hoped was a clear look. “It was circumstantial and none of it was his fault.” Letting your expression sour, you injected venom. “You should know that much though. From listening in.”

Leo shirked to the side. “I… may have tuned some stuff out.”

“Leo!” Raph threw his head back.

“You smell it too!” Leo hissed with a sudden ferocity. “You’d do the same!”

Raph balked and his gaze fell to the floor.

Mikey floated slowly to your right. “Smell what?”

“Don’t ask!”

“You don’t wanna know!”

Mikey shot you a curious look.

You blatantly ignored him.

Raph waved his arms to change course. “How does that explain your phone?!”

“Coral thought…” You shot a barbed look at Leo. “… that Donnie might be tracking me. She stole my phone and tech-” Your mouth snapped shut.

“You do have tech!” Leo jumped and landed pointing at you as if he’d revealed a great mystery. “I knew it!”

Your head shot away which you both hated for its guilty factor and because it put you right in the eye line of Mikey.

“Also! Vindication!” Leo’s fingers were flying to accuse all parties. “I’m not paranoid! I’m not the only one who thought all of this and, triple point score, this girl didn’t even know the purple pain-in-my-ass was a bad guy!!”

Having validated nonsense, you clocked the back of your head against the chair.

Raph pushed Leo out of the way like he weighed nothing. “Y/N…?”

“Yes, Raph?” You stared at the brick ceiling.

“It sounds like… you’ve answered this question a million times, but… does he?”

“No, Raph.”

A hush fell that was broken with a skin slapping noise. When your head came back down, Raph was rolling his eyes as Leo batted at him.

“Tell me about the tech!” Leo jumped away before Raph could stop him.

“No.” You glared daggers.

“Is he converting you to the dark side?” Mikey did a little wiggle to right himself.

“No!” You didn’t pass the orange turtle a look.

“I’m convinced!” Mikey lowered with purpose and landed on the tips of his toes. “I’m with Raph now, Lee. Let’s let Y/N go.”

“Et tu!?” Leo gasped. “You didn’t even clear anything up!”

Mikey’s expression fell, but nowhere near the other times you’d seen it do so. “I’m reminded of a saying from group; you can’t change how people perceive you.”

“Todd-ism’s are full of it!” Leo hissed.

Mikey continued on as if his brother hadn’t spoken. “You can only try to be a good person.” He turned towards you. “I haven’t been good to you and you have every right to hate me for it. No more second guessing you or pushing.”

A little stunned, you gave a wary nod.

Mikey walked over to Raph to punctuate his chosen side.

“No! What?! No!!” Leo screeched. “We were going to take turns!! We were going to fix this! We were going to make everything right!”

Staring at the manic back of Leo’s head, you could only think of how he didn’t handle change well.

It was another bizarre coincidence.

“Let me start from the beginning!” Leo’s light bulb going off shined so brightly that it blew. He turned wild eyes towards you and grabbed each side of the back of your chair, getting dangerously close to your face. “It all started when we were 14! Some new mutant came onto the scene-!”

“Leo, that’s enough!!” Raph gave what sounded very much like a final warning.

“Leo, you’re losing it! Calm down, man!!” Mikey pleaded.

You could only feel two things:

Your racing heart and fear.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up at the all encompassing broken expression on Leo’s face.

“-We were fucking teenagers and this asshole comes up comparing back stories like it’s a fucking competition! Swinging in with intelligence that was incomprehensible next to us! Where I’d been the ‘idea guy’ at best, suddenly everyone’s lives are in my hands on what can only be described as a whim! I tried my best to keep my team-my family alive in the face of a murderer. So yeah, I developed fucking anxiety, but who wouldn’t!? It was relentless. It was my whole life! It was all consuming!! Ever present!!! One wrong move and they die! They don’t come back!! When that’s all I have!!! Plus! There’s this whole other me that failed so badly he ended the entire, fucking, world!!! I had to be better than was ever possible for me, myself, or I, but especially better than him!!!”

You blinked.

Your lips rounded.

“Oh.”

The vowel popped out.

Weak and small.

Barely alive.

“Shit, he’s having a meltdown.” You heard Raph say.

“Already on it.” There was a rush of sound and you knew it was Mikey’s chains.

Leo blinked and his pupils disappeared.

He was gone from you before your muscles could alight with terror at the change.

What happened next came in colors.

An exploded rush of red that seemed to envelope the whole room.

Your chair flew out and orange chains netted like a catcher’s mitt to keep you from hitting a wall.

Over a dozen blue discs appeared with flashes of green soaring through them faster than you could track.

Your chair hit the ground on one leg and you felt the wood splinter from impact.

Then, there was a voice.

Gruff, but booming.

“Boys!”

Everything stopped.

In a single lid fall and raise, it was all gone.

All the color was reduced to three men standing at erect attention in a line.

Facing one of the staircases.

You were slow to turn there.

Standing with one hand against the wall and a single foot off the steps was a little rat man.

With white hair, a worn-in yukata, and a cane, he positioned the latter to help him make the final descent.

It took a grunt with his weight, but in a slow turn, he took the room in. “What is going on here?”

None of them could bear to go first.

They hung their heads.

Like they were reduced to children.

“You boys haven’t fought like this since you were kids…” The rat man’s gaze hit you and his expression fell. “What is this…? What have you done?”

Their bodies didn’t shuffle, but you saw the back of Raph’s head turn away.

With a clack of his cane against the brick, the rat man charged straight over to you. There, his gaze appeared from under bushy eyebrows as he openly took you in. “Who… are you…?”

Eyes widening as his met yours, you placed a wayward comment. “You’re Lou Jitsu…”

Struck by the name, he leaned back. “Oh!” Shifting from surprise, he stroked his beard. “What’s this?! I still maintain my looks! I told you boys I will always be recognizable!”

“Or…” Your gaze dropped. “You had a few names. Yoshi… or…?”

He gave a single sharp bang with his cane before his aura tripled the size of his small height. “How do you know that name?”

“I’m…”

He’d called them boys.

Raph had mentioned their dad.

They consider themselves brothers.

“Well?” He turned to give you a single focused eye.

“I’m dating Donatello.”

It was like you’d punched him in the gut.

Visibly shaken, he wheezed on a breath and took a step back.

“Dad!” Mikey called out.

The man rose a single hand to stop them and coughed violently, clearing his throat.

Not leaving formation, Mikey pulled the hand he was reaching out with to nurse at his chest.

The rat man managed a deep breath and set himself. He then turned and, from the way the turtles reacted, he was doing a fatherly scan of an incident.

You watched guilt pass each of them differently.

Mikey flicked a glance before dropping his gaze to the floor along with the hunch of his body.

Raph took a pained expression and sent it to the side.

Leo’s whole body twitched, but he remained the firmest.

He stared his dad down openly.

They stood like that for a long moment before the rat man returned to you.

In that single exchange, though it seemed clear he’d been left out of the loop, you could tell he knew everything he needed to.

“Do you deserve this treatment?”

“No…” You debated it for a moment and then gave in. “…sir.”

“None of that.” He ushered before giving an effort to kneel down. It took a pinch to his face but his long pink fingers came around one of your legs. “Splinter is the current name you are looking for.”

“Oh.” The sound was unlike the one you’d given Leo. “Master?”

He shook his head and the binds to your left leg fell loose.

“Splinter.” You repeated aloud to cement it.

Your right leg came free and he slowed, psyching himself up to stand. You watched him and picked up on how he was avoiding your gaze. “Is…. dating… new? I have not heard much about this…”

His voice was so small.

Almost as small as him.

It was also as broken as a parent trying to scrape what little they could about a child that no longer spoke to them.

“It’s…” You softened in spite of worries that he might deserve that absence.

Something told you he didn’t.

There were so many misunderstandings.

“It’s new for him.” You spoke fondly. “We just had our one year anniversary.”

Splinter perked up and one of his ears flicked with intense interest. His shoulders then hiked with embarrassment as he attempted to tuck it away and get to his feet. “Congratulations are in order.”

You nodded, heart yanked. “Yes, he’s… very romantic.”

There was a sharp exhale from one of the turtles.

It was no match for the pride oozing off Splinter. It buoyed him to his feet where he began to undo the knots at your back. “I… would like to ask another question, if that is alright?”

“Sure.” Your arms came loose and you flexed them.

“Is he…” Splinter’s voice shattered and he had to hold onto a shard as he undid the last binding.

In a slow release, the ropes around your torso slacked.

He hobbled all the way around you to get strength from your gaze to continue. “Is… Donatello… I mean… Is he… alright?”

Leo clicked his tongue so loudly it sliced through the room.

Without you even blinking, Splinter’s cane disappeared from existence.

You only found it because of the loud noise that emitted from Leo as it hit him in the face.

“Orange.”

“Yep!” Mikey sang and stepped out of formation on a single leg. In a peppy hop, he snatched up the cane from Leo’s collapsed form and ran over to pass it back to his dad.

Splinter took it with a little smile and Mikey gave him a peck to his forehead before jogging back to his place.

“Can I ask you something?”

Splinter’s ear flicked again. “I assume you have many.”

You nodded.

“Please.”

“He… Donnie…” You clarified and wrung your free hands. “He said you never looked for him…?”

Splinter gave a sad sigh. “Would you mind coming with me?”

Your lips twitched.

Splinter took notice. “This is not ideal for you or my back. I require my chair.”

You gave a single laugh. “Something orthopedic?”

“Yes, I can never say that word.” Splinter gave his own puff of humor before glancing at the turtles. “Blue, portal.”

Leo had just gotten back up. “You’re joking.”

Raph glowered down at him.

Mikey smacked a hand to his face.

“What?!” Leo shot a sour look down the line. “It’s not even about this, but ho’boy you better believe I’m pissed about it! It’s about him abusing my power! He does this all the time! It’s an ongoing thing! Last week it was just to get the remote which, by the way, ended up being on the arm right next to him!!”

“It takes like two seconds.” Raph’s hands turned up to gesture how ridiculous Leo was being.

“Says the guy who’s 7’6”! You literally don’t even have to embiggen to get whatever crap he needs from the top shelf” Leo folded his arms.

“Leonardo.” Splinter addressed evenly. “I will listen next family meeting. For now….”

Leo’s lips pursed before he held his hand out. There out of a blink of blue light, he pulled out a sword and swung it. In front of you, a blue portal appeared.

“Thank you.” Splinter bobbed a thankful nod before walking through it.

You gave the boys a final glance before moving to enter it as well.

Coming out the otherside felt like nothing and you watched as Splinter was already scrambling up into an armchair. Now in a glorified TV room, there was a huge projector on one wall and familial seating scattered about the space. With Splinter’s grunts filling the air, he eventually got turned around before reclining back with a contented sigh.

You stood awkwardly beside him and reviewed the options which ranged from a sofa to an old patched bean bag. Nervous, you perched on the edge of the closest couch seat.

Taking a moment to bask in relief, Splinter’s eyes opened with a faraway look. “I did.”

You perked up.

“I know he does not believe me, but I did not know… that he survived. I saw four turtles, but only three slid out during the explosion…” His head turned towards you. “In the chaos, I looked for the fourth, but the lab was collapsing. I had to assume he didn’t…” His gaze sharpened and he looked forward again. “I would hold that assumption for 15 years.”

Your eyes darted, trying to log every single word and candor.

“The boys did not tell me when they found out. How could they? I had never mentioned their… other...” Splinter gestured downward and you looked out to see another staircase leading out of the room. “I would come to know only after overhearing them complain about a purple assailant off handedly.” Pain bled into his features. “I do not blame them. For a long time none of us were very honest with one another.”

Your gaze flicked up with knowledge. “They… you’re saying they didn’t tell you when they met Donnie?”

“I did not find out until a year had passed since he was revealed to be another turtle.”

Your head dropped.

What was wrong with all of them?

That was rhetorical.

It was also frustrating beyond comprehension.

“I could have cleared things up, but…” Splinter’s hand spun, gesturing to what he’d already explained.

You brought your head up, weakly.

“I remember that moment clearly: I was eating cereal and dropped my bowl.” He lifted from his chair with a slight wince. “I left then to find him. My… what I considered my lost… son…”

The last word was so quiet, you had to put it in place through context.

“I found him within the hour. He was… not what I expected.”

Your eyes widened.

“I could not…” Agony warped his words. “I could not approach. I felt shame. I was at fault. If I had only-“ He choked and crushed his lids down to compose himself. What surfaced were wounds that had been ripped open time and time again, never healing quite right. “I had made a habit of running away. Always. From everything.”

You stood and looked for tissues.

Splinter massaged his temple. “I ended up shadowing him for many, many nights. Never able to approach. I saw… what he had become… what had been done to him… What he continued to do.”

Not finding them, you approached his side.

He looked at you with a forlorn fondness. “Another mistake on many. In my distraction, I did not see what was happening with my other boys. The Shredder took form and by the time I was able to meet with Donatello, it was under the worst circumstance.”

You gave a shallow nod.

“I would try over and over to reach him after that.” Splinter’s eyes shone and then he sent them away. “Too late.”

Your hand pressed into the armrest.

He covered it with his own. “Too late to help my lost son. Too late to help the ones I raised. Almost too late to keep humanity from perishing.”

“It didn’t…” You whispered.

“It didn’t.” He agreed. “I have made more mistakes than I care to count.”

You caught his thumb and squeezed.

“I could not keep them from hurting each other.” He choked out.

You dropped to your knees to meet his eye level.

He looked over you with a tiny smile fighting against his pain. “There is no need to feel bad. I did nothing but age and fail my boys.”

You wanted to protest, but even now, you still didn’t know enough.

You had very little to offer.

Only what you knew.

“Donnie is amazing.”

Splinter’s eyes popped open and a single, fat tear rolled out.

“He’s loving and kind and a genius and totally insane and I adore him.”

Splinter leaned forward and his other hand added to the stack.

“He laughs now.” Your head tilted and you couldn’t keep a smile off your face. “I’ve never asked, but I don’t think he ever really did in a happy way?”

Splinter gave a rapid nod.

“He smiles a lot. Way more than when we first met. It’s like everyday he’s a little bit happier.”

You felt little claws dig into your skin, but it didn’t hurt.

You glanced at the projector. “He still doesn’t like movies, but he watches them. He’s not one for music, but he doesn’t mind when I hum a tune. He’s got these ninja-like moves, but he can’t throw a piece of candy to save his life. He’s an amazing chef and went through a food science phase which was both good and bad. He… When we met he was on a ridiculous quest to find a good sandwich.”

“Mikey loves to cook!” The phrase shot out of him with a near sob.

“I’ve heard sort of: that he goes to fancy shops and now the farmer’s market.”

“Too adventurous!” Splinter gave an annoyed grunt. “He makes the best food and then inedible dishes!”

You laughed. “We had raw meat dry aging in our fridge for weeks!”

Splinter removed a hand to bang it as a fist to the chair. “I’ve had enough jerky to shrivel up and become one!”

Sharing in chuckles, he broke the moment first with an exhale that spoke to an ages old held breath. “Thank you… I did not catch your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you.” Your shoulders bobbed. “You saved me.”

Splinter clicked his tongue, not unlike Leo. “I have been left out yet again.”

Sympathy came, but he dispelled it with an irritated rock of his body.

“To do this while I was out enjoying a competition! From my dojos! I cannot believe them!” His eyes closed with indignity as he threw his head back.

“That’s… you were… at what-?” You stalled, hit with way too much information.

“The Lou Jitsu Schools of Ninjutsu!” Splinter sharply bobbed with pride. “Raphael brought them back from the brink and reestablished us as the top martial arts school in the city!”

“H-huh.”

Splinter eyed you. “You have not heard of this. I doubt your taste.”

“Hey!”

He gave a snicker.

You puffed out your cheeks, annoyed.

“I’m sure you do not want to hear me drone on any longer. The kidnapping was enough. Let’s get you home.”

Your gaze flattened out on how he’d so easily glossed over that second part.

“BOYS!!!”

You jerked away at the sound, ears ringing.

Splinter turned to address the turtles as they clambered in.

“Don’t they all have super hearing…?” You rubbed your drums.

“Yes, they were listening in.” Splinter eyed Mikey specifically who whistled away.

“Why?”

“I like yelling!” Splinter pronounced with his entire chest.

You groaned and rounded the back of the chair.

“Leonardo, you will not hinder Y/N further.”

“Just me?” Leo spit, quiet.

“Your back talk says it is truly only you.” Splinter stood and tapped his cane to the cushion. “Deliver them directly.”

Leo went ramrod straight and fury rolled off of him. “Dad, you don’t-!”

“You will not fight.” Splinter looked over his shoulder at you and winked before returning to his son. “Call him.”

“You have Donnie’s number?!” Your hackles went up.

“Not… exactly…” Leo was looking so sour that he was a moment away from pickling himself. “It’s a nuclear option kind of thing. One use only.”

You tilted your head, not sure how that worked.

“Meaning we can’t blow it just because someone got their phone taken away like a kid!”

You bristled, but felt Splinter’s ire turn towards you. “You do not have a phone?”

“If you didn’t know, why'd you ask me to call!?” Leo whined.

“Call is general! I do not know about your nuclear system! That is for power plants!” Splinter snapped away to scold Leo before returning that grouch to you.

You had to avoid that tough fatherly eye. “It’s a long story...”

“Who does not have a phone these days?!” Splinter fussed.

Leo threw his arms out and hummed loudly at Raph.

“Even I have a phone.” Reaching into his yukata, he pulled out an older model. “I hate it.”

“It’s so easy though, dad!” Mikey groaned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Splinter brushed the lot of them off with a flick of his huge tail. “As I said.”

“‘You will not fight’!” Leo mocked. “So great when you can throw a decree down on me knowing full well the other party has no obligation to follow it!”

“He will. As you will also pass a message along.”

Leo froze in his stoop to turn a curious gaze up.

You watched Leo, confused, before realizing the whole lot of them were wide-eyed at this message idea. Turning to Splinter, you caught, up close, the way his gaze tinted with suffering. “You will tell him to meet me at our usual booth. He will understand.”

“Dad…” Raph mouthed.

“Have you…?” Mikey covered his mouth to keep anymore from coming out.

In front of them Leo held up a fist which had the tactical code for silence. “The family meeting is tonight.”

Splinter gave a nod as if this was a bargaining session.

Leo turned away and signaled for Mikey to follow him.

Raph watched them go, on edge.

Splinter let his posture drop and pressed a hand around his back. “I apologize Y/N. I also ask, if… he will permit…” He slid you a small glance. “If you will come as well?”

“Uh… sure.” You nodded, not exactly sure what you were agreeing to beyond some kind of meeting.

“I am going to sit and watch my programs now. You can stay or go.” Splinter waved you away before collapsing into his chair.

You frowned at how dismissive he was until he spoke a final time with a heavy heart.

“Thank you.”

Giving a little sigh, you nodded. “Of course.”

Raph was twiddling his fingers, near the stairs.

“How long will the call take?”

Raph surfaced from his thoughts and craned an arm behind his head. “The way I understand, it gets forced through, so it’s more like how long it’ll take him to get… not here, but… whatever meeting place Leo sets.”

“Does he… not know where here is?” You walked over.

“It’s a big ask, but can we keep it that way?” Raph turned, urging you to join him in descending the stairs.

“I don’t see how that’s something I can do.” You followed. “Like, again, how he doesn’t already know.”

“We’ve, uh, got a network kinda thing protecting us from his bots. It took a lot of trial and error.”

“It…” You gave one last glance to the disappearing rumpus room. “You’ve clearly been here awhile.”

Raph nodded. “Longest yet, going on six years.”

“I won’t tell. I also have no idea where we are because of the kidnapping.” You barbed the last word.

Raph droned out an abysmal sound.

Satisfied by it, you continued. “But I can’t help… Donnie being Donnie.” You grimaced.

Raph showed his understanding with a glance. “Dad’s weird code better mean something. I don’t like the idea of sending Leo alone.”

“I can’t guarantee he’ll listen to me, but I’ll try to keep the exchange civil…”

Raph had reached the end of the stairs having casually taken them several at a time. Where you were about to reach him, he turned back with honest confusion. “Why?”

“Why…?”

“Why… would you? You should want to support him, right? After what we did…” Raph glanced back and you realized you were back in the pseudo war room.

“I don’t…” You slowed, not sure of exactly how to put it. “Whatever is happening with you all is… so much bigger than me. Even with a bias… taking sides when there’s so much I don’t know…” You hit the landing and quieted, lost.

Silence beat the air until Raph chuffed.

You looked up to find him sporting a lopsided grin with a sharp canine peaking out. “I see why he likes you.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you had to look away.

Raph hummed with light laughter.

Needing to distract yourself, you kicked only to scuff your shoe on brick. “By the way…”

“Yeah?” He examined the ground as if looking for a pebble.

“What was with the scary Leo warning? Not doing it Leo’s way?” You looked up with a faint dusting still lingering.

Raph’s lid dropped along with his head like a heavy weight fell on him. “I really don’t like that mustard'ah! It’s all those dang little seeds. They get stuck in my teeth and then my fingers are too big to-” He blinked his eyes wide, seeing you anew. “-and I’m realizing now how scary it musta sounded. Raph does not wanna be like those guys so let’s say I mighta been worried about how a talk with Leo might have gone…” He gestured to some of the wreckage that marked the earlier meltdown. “…which is sometimes not great.”

“I’ll take it.” You gave a sort of defeated smile.

Leo stormed up a set of stairs you hadn’t seen used yet. “We need to go.” He located you and his gaze narrowed, lethally. “Now.”

“Leo…” Raph urged.

“I know.” There was a split second break in Leo’s staunch façade and you saw a flash of how genuinely nervous he was.

“Where’s Mikey?” Raph held himself back and his posture told you it was because of you.

It was an unspoken agreement.

You weren’t supposed to see that kind of weakness.

You moved over to Leo’s side.

Leo tracked you the whole way. “Keeping an eye out.”

“Which entrance?” Raph straightened his composure.

“Grand.” Leo clipped. “Stand by at Black Cat and I’ll signal if it goes south.”

With a tight nod, Raph took off.

“We’re hoofing it and he isn’t going to wait. Follow me.” Leo headed back towards the stairs he’d come up.

“Can’t you portal? Sounds like you know where.” You glanced at where Raph had gone. “Isn’t it… bad for me to see where we’re going?”

“I’ve monitored you. You don’t have the mapping capability for a ‘one and done’ memorization.”

You sneered, having to triple your speed only to keep falling behind. “That doesn’t answer my first question.”

“He can track mystic energy to an extent.” Leo threw a glance over his shoulder and saw you struggling. He slowed a little.

You parted him a wilted form of gratitude as you hit the bottom of the stairs, passed some old retrofitted subway cars, and disappeared down a dark tunnel.

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lexosaurus · 7 months

Text

The Fog Around Us: Chapter 2

My 2nd fic for the Ecto Implosion (artists go first, writers go second)

Check out the fic art if you haven't already! Done by @nightwanderers12081

read on: [ao3]

[see all chapters]

Characters: Danny Fenton, Valerie Gray Tags: Amnesiac Danny Fenton, Enemies to Friends Chapter WC: 3933 Summary: Two weeks had passed since Danny Fenton went missing. Two weeks had passed since Phantom had disappeared as well. It couldn't be coincidence.

****

“So, hang on. Let’s start at the beginning.” Valerie made to pinch her nose, but her freaking faceplate was in the way. She sighed and retracted her helmet, watching Phantom peer at her in curiosity but not recognition. “So, how long did you say you’ve been a ghost for?”

“Um, I don’t know?” Phantom stood, brushing his hands against his thighs. “Well, I only remember the past few weeks, I think.”

“Right, that’s what I mean. According to you, you’ve only been a ghost for the past few weeks. And where exactly were you in that time?”

“It’s like I said before. I’ve only been in the Infinite Realms.”

But, how? How could Phantom just forget everything? Had he run into a ghost with those kinds of powers? Did such a being even exist?

“What’s the first thing you remember?”

He turned his head up at the sky. At first, he didn’t speak, apparently too busy studying the thousands of lights sparkling in the sky. It was a look Valerie recognized, and then her heart panged all over again because shit, her one lead had forgotten everything.

“We don’t have stars like this in the Infinite Realms,” he mused. He shook his head, seemingly coming back to reality. “Sorry. But, honestly, I just woke up in the Realms. I was in my suit, and there were a few islands around me, but nothing else weird. I felt like there was something…I don’t know, something I was trying to do, you know? My heart was racing a little bit, like—like adrenaline. But then, I don’t know. I looked around, and there was nothing there.”

An odd sort of desperation crept onto his face as if he were almost begging Valerie for an answer. As if that first memory, that first feeling in his body haunted him even if he tried to brush it off.

But Valerie was too hung up on one specific word. His heart. He’d mentioned having a heart. But…ghosts don’t have hearts.

Valerie supposed it could be possible that new ghosts would forget that they don’t have hearts and maybe their minds would convince them they did. Or, perhaps Phantom had spent so much time with humans over the past year that his body was beginning to give him “human” powers, such as a beating “heart.”

But she had to keep the conversation flowing. It was the only way to figure this mess out. “What did you do next?”

“Well, I don’t really know. I couldn’t figure it out, but I felt like I was supposed to be somewhere. So I just started flying.”

More than likely, he was either supposed to go wherever Danny was being held, or his amnesia was actually a total coincidence and he was just trying to find his…wherever he lived. Amity, probably.

“You floated around aimlessly the entire time?” Valerie asked with a touch of disbelief.

Phantom grimaced. “Sort of. I was trying to follow instinct, but I didn’t know what I was looking for.”

“Did you ask the other ghosts? The ones you saw? Did they say anything that sounded weird to you?”

“I don’t know. Everything sounded weird to me. I didn’t—I don’t—” He gripped the back of his head with tight fingers, and the metal bracelet glinted under the moonlight. “Listen, I don’t know who that—what was his name?”

“Danny. Danny Fenton,” Valerie said, maybe a bit icily.

“Yeah, him.” He paused, and just before Valerie could maybe be convinced that Phantom might have remembered something, he shook his head, saying, “I’m sorry, but I really have no idea who he is. I think I might recognize that name, but I don’t know where it’s from. Maybe I knew him when I was alive?”

Valerie stared at him, cataloging his every twitch, every pinch of his brow, every little potential clue to tell her that Phantom was lying, that he knew where Danny was.

But there was nothing there. Nothing. Just a lost ghost with locked memories.

“Shit,” she whispered, ducking her head to cover her face with her hand. She’d been so close, so freaking close to figuring out what happened to her friend, and now it was all gone. It had all slipped through her fingers faster than water pouring down an open drain. And now she was back at the start. No leads, no clues, no idea what happened to her friend.

No, it was worse than that, she realized. At least before, she had some idea that Phantom had to be involved. But now, even if he was involved, he had absolutely nothing to show for it.

“I thought I had it. I really thought that I had it,” Valerie muttered.

“Had what?” Phantom asked.

She didn’t want to tell him, but suddenly, she couldn’t hold back. She turned to him, frustration and sorrow spilling out of her at once. “You disappeared at the same time my friend Danny did, and everyone was saying ghosts were involved. I thought that you were the key to figuring out what happened. That either you took him, or you knew who did.”

He reached a glowing hand to her, and then thought better, retracting it to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, cradling his wrist close. “I really have no idea what happened to him. Believe me, if I knew, I would tell you.”

Valerie let out a bitter laugh. She couldn’t help it. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would!” he insisted, his eyes glowing alight. “I would tell you! If he’s missing, then I would help you get him home.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Just trust me.”

But Phantom leaned closer. “I know I don’t remember much—or anything, actually—but I know myself, and I would help you. I wouldn’t let your friend get hurt.”

Whatever little bit of patience Valerie had left in her system drained instantly. She turned on him, eyes blazing. “You wouldn’t. I know you better than you know yourself right now, Phantom! And I hate to break it to you, but the Phantom I knew was a selfish, life-ruining asshole who was more than happy to step on other people if it made himself look better!”

Phantom looked stricken. “What are you talking about?”

Valerie wiped the corners of her eyes and the tops of her cheeks because damnit, she wasn’t crying in front of this stupid ghost right now.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in the past—”

“When,” Valerie amended.

The tips of his pointed ears lowered slightly. “What?”

Hurt thudded against her stomach and throat as she tried to ready herself for the inevitable. She’d always envisioned the moment when she finally got to give Phantom a piece of her mind and tell him exactly every which way he’d hurt her and her father. She’d rehearsed it, practicing it over and over in the shower, while doing her makeup, in the daydreams of her mind just before she slipped into sleep like some sort of psychotic lullaby. For months, she’d waited for this day.

And now it was finally here, but it didn’t mean anything because the Phantom standing before her, the one she had been prepared to tear a new one, wouldn’t understand.

Her speech was useless now. And with that realization, all the anger dissipated from her muscles, and she felt her shoulders sag with the weight of gravity, months of stress, and the overwhelming burden of loneliness.

Then, even though there was a dangerous, amnesiac ghost that possibly was connected to Danny’s disappearance at her side, she slid down till she was seated on the roof with her legs splayed out before her.

“I’m tired, Phantom.” She was tired of being angry, of constantly being strong, of being so goddamn alone. “Just…tired of this shit.”

He shifted awkwardly beside her, probably unsure if this was his cue to leave or sit down and join her. “I’m sorry.”

Valerie made that decision for him, patting the seat next to her. “Come on.”

He hesitated, and Valerie could feel the tension radiating off him, but eventually, Phantom sat beside her. Though, he didn’t look at her, instead choosing to look out at the night sky.

“So…Amity Park didn’t used to have ghosts,” Valerie started. She wasn’t sure how far back she should go, but then again, it wasn’t like Phantom had anywhere to be tonight.

He was a ghost, after all.

“Most people didn’t even know they existed, I don’t think. I guess there weren’t a lot of portals between our worlds before. Then about a year ago, something changed, and ghosts started appearing.”

“And I was there too?” he asked.

“Yeah, you were. You were one of the first ghosts to appear, actually. Not the first, but one of them.”

“Um, what did I do? When I would appear?”

“The same thing the other ghosts did. Terrorize the city and fight each other. Then, after someone would win, you’d both disappear and leave all the damage behind.”

He blinked, and Valerie could see the hurt melt onto his face. “Really?”

“Yup,” she answered. “And then, one day, you brought a dog along with you. One that could grow to the size of a truck. You set him loose in this tech company that had started making anti-ghost technology, Axiom Labs, and the dog absolutely tore that place to shreds. My dad worked there as the head of security and lost his job because of that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. And since Axiom held my dad personally responsible, he got ruined. We lost our house, our furniture, everything. We moved to Elmerton in some crappy apartment. It fucking sucked, and I was pissed. So when I got an offer from a benefactor to start hunting ghosts, I said yes. And that’s how I ended up in this suit fighting you all the time.”

“We were enemies, then. Not allies,” Phantom said, his voice strangely shaky.

Valerie squinted at him. Had he not just heard her entire speech? Why the hell would she be allies with him after that?

Also, why would he be upset by this information? “Since when do ghosts care about that sort of thing?” she accidentally slipped out.

“I don’t know. But I…this is going to sound strange.” He put a hand to his chest, where Valerie suspected his core was. “I feel like I’ve always cared about that.”

“You haven’t,” she rebuked.

“No, I…” His voice drifted like white dandelions swept away by a passing breeze before he seemed to grab hold of himself once again. “Listen, I don’t remember what happened before, but I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean anything when I say this now, but that was a horrible thing that I did to you, and I’m sorry. I don’t know you, but no one deserves that.”

It stung her throat to hear him finally say that—not that she ever imagined him apologizing to her. No, in her fantasies, she gave her impressive speech and then punched him square in the face. No apologies, no remorse.

But that was fantasy, and this was reality. And even if it wasn’t the lullaby that sang Valerie to sleep, it was strangely comforting in a way.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Even if I don’t forgive you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Now it was Valerie’s turn to feel out of her depth. Where was this weird maturity coming from in Phantom? Had it always dwelled dormant under his skin, something he suppressed in favor of that cocky bravado hero bullshit? Or was it new, brought on by this sudden clean slate?

She glimpsed the metal bracelet wrapped around his wrist, and that wave of confusion began wrapping its tendrils in her mind again.

“And I know you might not believe this,” he said, snapping her out of her thoughts, “but even though I don’t remember any of that happening, I…it’s weird. I feel it, if that makes sense. I don’t remember it, but some things sound familiar. Like…like they’re on the tip of my tongue.”

She nodded. That made sense, of course. The mind could be erased, but muscle memory was difficult to trick.

“And I feel like something was wrong. Like something was missing with all that, everything you said. Because I don’t think that I was acting in some sort of psychopathic, sadistic intent, you know? Like, I don’t know, something is missing. I know it.”

She sighed, drawing in a heavy breath like it was the greatest burden to her body. “Phantom, I told you—”

“I know. I know, I know, and I’m sorry.” He clutched the logo on his chest. “Maybe being back here has brought something back, but I don’t think—no, I know I was never trying to hurt you or any other human in this place. I know it.” Turning his attention back to the sky, he added, “Just like how I know that I loved stargazing and that I—I—I had human friends. And a family.”

His wide eyes locked onto hers, and Valerie felt her breath stop in her throat.

Alarm bells rang in her mind so powerful, so deafening that Valerie couldn’t hear anything else. Not the spattering of cars below her, nor the music playing from some apartment across the street, nothing else except the ringing “what the FUCK” from her brain.

“I had a human family. And friends. I did!” He jumped up, then seemed to regret it as he bent over, clutching his skull. “I don’t remember them. But I had them.”

“Alive?” Valerie finally choked out.

“What?”

“They were alive?” she repeated.

“Yes, yes! They were! All of them!”

Phantom had never even mentioned having a family before. Valerie always assumed that all ghosts forgot everything about their human lives once they died.

But he remembered, and he didn’t tell anyone, apparently. She’d never heard even a whisper of Phantom’s reason for hanging around Amity. And Valerie had asked before. Many times.

She wondered if his family even knew their son was Phantom or if he kept it a secret from them too.

But why? Why go to such lengths to keep his family a secret?

Was it some sort of taboo for a ghost to go back to their family once they died? But if that were true, why was Phantom telling her this now?

He looked back over at her, and Valerie could see the stars shining in his corneas. “They were alive. That’s why I was here! It’s why I didn’t go to the Realms with the other ghosts! I was…I was protecting them.”

And then the oxygen was sucked out of the air again.

What the fuck.

Did Phantom just tell her his purpose? The entire reason why his soul never moved on?

But he didn’t look anywhere near as afflicted as Valerie was. Instead, a sort of warmth was spreading across his face, and he beamed. Literally, his aura dazzled like a solar light removed from the shade.

“It’s why I was here,” he insisted, except it didn’t really sound like that, Valerie realized. No, he looked relieved.

“Phantom…?” she tried cautiously. “Do you know where your family is?”

His face fell, taking some of the shimmering aura with it. “No. I guess I don’t. But I did. You know, before this.” He froze, then looked at her lost again. “What’s your name again?”

“You call me Red.” Just because she was having a moment with Phantom here didn’t mean she was ready to tell him her name.

“Okay, Red,” he said, testing it out. “How do I get my memories back? I need to see if they’re alright. I feel like there was something wrong and I think they might be in danger. Please, I need to see them again.”

Valerie was no ghost psychologist, but she had some idea of what happened to a ghost who was barred from fulfilling their obsession. And dealing with a distressed, pissed-off Phantom wasn’t exactly on her to-do list tonight, tomorrow, or ever, she conceded. “I don’t know, but I’ll strike you a deal. I’ll help you figure out your amnesia, and in return, you’ll help me find Danny.”

He nodded too eagerly. “I’ll do it.”

She stood, then stuck out her hand. “I don’t know what ghosts do when they make deals, but humans shake on it.”

Now, he hesitated, his hand curled at his torso like one hint of physical contact with a human might break him. But whatever internal battle he seemed to be having, he got over, clasping his cold hand into hers and shaking. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

They broke apart, and his cold wash of aura left Valerie’s skin. She suppressed a shiver, unsure if she’d ever get used to the way ghosts felt when they got close to the living. And then, her attention could finally zero in on the one thing that had been bothering her all evening. “Now give me your other hand.”

“Huh?” He glanced down at the arm currently hanging limp at his side. “Why?”

“Because I wanna check something, that’s why.”

“Check what?” Phantom asked but gave her his arm anyway.

Valerie grasped his wrist where the bracelet was. It was smooth and shiny with not a scratch in sight.

Brand new, she noted. It could be a coincidence, or...

Of course, he could have put it on himself just before his memories disappeared. But even if she didn’t know Phantom well, he never struck her as the kind of guy who’d touch jewelry with a ten-foot pole.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she raised his wrist, checking around and then under the metal band for a single hint as to what this was for.

And yup, there it was.

Valerie shouldn’t have been so surprised. Well, actually, no. She wasn’t surprised. Because really, she should have expected it. That slimy, good-for-nothing, manipulative ghost would be involved.

Perfectly etched underneath Phantom’s silver bracelet was a VM logo, circled in what Valerie could only imagine was real gold paint.

There was only one man who could have done this, and that man was Vlad Masters Plasmius, the half-ghost half-human who had conned the entirety of Amity Park into following his leadership. Even the mere internal mention of his name had Valerie feeling revolted, and—oh, wow. Phantom must have really been telling the truth about his amnesia because when Valerie’s focus flickered up to his face, there wasn’t even a hint of indignation in his eyes.

And Valerie had seen Phantom try to play nice with Plasmius before. There was absolutely no way he could suddenly become an Oscar-nominated worthy actor out of nowhere with this logo in his view.

But just to confirm, she held up his wrist and asked, “This logo mean anything to you?”

“Should it?”

“Yeah. You’d be pissed if you were you right now.” She dropped his arm. “It’s Vlad Masters.”

Phantom’s blank expression didn’t change. “Who?”

“Vlad Masters. Or, I guess, Vlad Plasmius to you.” When recognition still didn’t spark in Phantom, Valerie continued, “Listen, Mr. Masters is…a long story. But basically, he’s not a good guy. He’s the mayor of this town, and I’m pretty sure he pulled some trick to get there. Because—well, I know this is going to sound crazy.” Valerie paused, scrunching her eyebrows.

How the hell was she supposed to explain this without sounding absolutely insane?

“What?” Phantom insisted, his voice teetering on whiny.

“Promise you won’t think I’m crazy first.”

He nodded in earnest. “I swear.”

“Okay.” Valerie blew out a long breath. “So basically, I’m a human, and you’re a ghost, right?”

Phantom seemed to be following along so far.

“So I’m on one end, and you’re on the other end of the alive-to-dead spectrum. But somehow, Mr. Masters is…in the middle? He’s a ghost, but he’s also a human. And know! I know, I know how insane that sounds. I know, trust me. I didn’t believe it either when I first found out that humans could also be ghosts. But somehow, that’s a thing. I don’t really get how it works. Maybe he died and came back to life?” Valerie was rambling now. “But somehow, that’s what he became. He’s a human, but he has all the psychological traits of a ghost.”

Phantom blinked. “What psychological traits do ghosts have that’s so bad?”

Valerie was taken aback. Of all the things she’d just said, that’s what he focused on?

“Well, you guys are all violent. And obsessive. But that’s beside the point!” Valerie waved her hands.

“What’s besides the point?”

Her mouth was agape now. “What?” she sputtered once she got ahold of herself. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”

“Yeah, and I don’t really get what’s so bad about ghosts,” Phantom said. “Sure, some ghosts may be bad people, but there are bad humans too. Most ghosts just want to be left alone, you know.”

Valerie genuinely couldn’t grasp the sheer audacity of Phantom’s philosophy right now. “Phantom, did you not hear anything I said about Mr. Masters? Being a half-man, half-ghost?”

Now it was Phantom’s turn to look at her like she was crazy. “I heard you.”

“And that’s not at all surprising to you?”

Phantom—that fucker—actually pondered for a moment before deciding, “No, I don’t think so.”

“I’m sorry, is the knowledge of half humans half ghosts just common knowledge to only ghosts or something? Because any other human would never believe me if I told them that.”

Phantom shrugged, then pressed a hand back up to his chest. “I don’t know, maybe? I definitely already knew about that, though. Actually, it seems like the one thing I know most of all. I don’t know, maybe I knew Vlad was a halfa before this.”

“You did,” Valerie said, then froze. “Wait, what was that you said? That word?”

“Halfa?”

“Yeah, that one. Did you…is that a ghost term for half-humans, half-ghosts?”

Phantom shrugged again. Valerie was getting really sick of shrugging.

“Probably,” he said. “But I definitely know a lot about halfas. Maybe I was good friends with one?”

Valerie needed a nap.

“So why did Vlad stick a bracelet on my wrist?” Phantom asked, holding the bracelet up and pointing to it with his free hand.

Valerie had been so taken aback by whatever the hell this conversation was that she’d almost forgotten her hypothesis. “Oh, I think Mr. Masters put that on you to get you out of his way. You guys are enemies, and I think he is trying to get rid of you.”

Phantom nodded, his brows furrowed. “Yes, that makes sense. You said I had a lot of enemies from…fighting the ghosts? I think? It would make sense that one would try to do this to me. Okay!” Phantom brightened, his mind seemingly made up.

God, ghosts were so strange.

He clapped his hands. “We should go there and get him to remove the bracelet.”

“Yeah, I don’t think asking nicely is going to do much for this guy. He’s a really slimy dude. He doesn’t even know that I know about him being a half-ghost, by the way.”

“Well…” Phantom paused, glancing between her suit and his steepled fingers. “We’re both good fighters, aren’t we? Do you think we can take this man?”

Valerie weighed the pros and cons in her mind. The list of pros was tiny, and the cons were immense. But on the list of pros was the possibility of finding Danny, so she couldn’t say no.

“Yeah,” she lied. “We can definitely take that asshole.”

****

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