#having it under mouse button is strange

[fennecfoxfloatingthroughspace]

Finally! Let's gooooo!!! :D

Yeah, I started playing yesterday. So hyped that forgot to post or anything? Maaaaaaybe... xd

[pickapea]

i have rough, calloused fingers but not because i've been working the earth or have learned to play the guitar but bc i have very strong compulsions to hit really hard at random places on my phone screen or computer keyboard when the vibes under the surface of them feel off

[naisilla]

Heartsteel x Reader

Heart Stolen.

Content: You make some new online friends

The lobby was empty. Your icon stood alone amongst the five spaces. No one showed up tonight. You sigh, leaving your mouse hovering over the 'find match' button. Was it worth gaming tonight?

You didn't blame the others. Now that high school was over, everyone had begun branching out into their new lives. Some grew further than others. At least everyone kept in touch through Discord. But tonight, only you were online.

It's a shame. You didn't get the privilege of being able to stay up late as frequently as the others because of the work shifts you had. Some days, you have to wake up early in the morning at 5. On others, you finished the closing shift at 9. To get enough sleep, you would have to go to bed before your friends would even get online to game.

The only nights you could indulge yourself were nights before your days off. Three nights a week, you could finally catch up with your friends. If only they were available those nights. Sometimes, they were busy, tired, or "not in the mood." Honestly, it pissed you off.

Looks like it was turning out to be another lonely night, another disappointment. You weren't mad at your friends, but it would be nice to have some company tonight. Your eyes trained onto your monitor. The find match button beckons you.

Finding a match alone was a little intimidating. What if you messed up and made a mistake that cost your team? You were a little sensitive to mean comments. Going competitive where players were toxic didn't seem so alluring anymore.

A defeated sigh escapes your lips. You needed to become emotionally independent. Perhaps a warm up game might calm your nerves. Dragging your mouse, you select draft pick and choose bot lane for your autofill. Finally, you click Find Match.

You wait with bated breath as your client searches for a match. With each passing second, you became increasingly regretful of your decision. You should've just given up on gaming and gone with binge watching something.

The client suddenly displays the message "Match Found!" and you get grouped with four strangers onto a team. You're assigned bot lane, and you go to select your ADC. After clicking on "Daughter of the void." you pause. Another player had also selected an ADC champion.

You hiss under your breath. "Shit." this was awkward. One of you needed to go support, but this other player had already chosen "The Weapon of the Faithful." You squint, taking a look at their username, 신자의 무기.

Korean? On an Oceania server? How strange. A message pops up in the lobbies chat window. EZ: uh oh EZ: glwt

Sighing, you force yourself to scan through the available supports, both in your inventory and free rotation. "Maven of the strings" had a simple kit right? Honestly, you weren't sure but the countdown was ticking and you needed to pick something.

Perhaps you could dodge? You wouldn't mind waiting in queue with low priority. You frown as a spike of determination hits you. No way you were backing out, you were assigned bot. This other player was given support, it should be them dealing with this.

10 seconds left

Ugh how serious was this matchup anyways?

5 seconds left

Screw it you're dodging this.

Your mouse clicks on the exit button and you breathe a sigh of relief as your client continued to search for another match. A blue light reflects in your eye as another 'match found' widget pops up on your client and you readily accept it.

What the fuck!?

To your disbelief you get thrown into another lobby matchup with 신자의 무기 and EZ.

EZ: no way...

You groan and rub your temple before leaning forward in your seat and typing into the chat:

(Y/U/N): Hey, do you want to go ADC or SUPP?

Your eyes remain fixated as they await a response...

A little blip appears on your screen, drawing your attention to the friend request from 신자의 무기. You frown, you don't typically accept friend requests from anyone you don't personally know. But it wouldn't hurt to select 'accept' if it doesn't go well you can always block them.

Seconds after accepting the request you receive a message, a discord link.

This isn't a bot is it?

Your monitor switches over to Discord inviting you to join a server "The Boyz". You can feel hesitation in joining the group, the last thing an introvert like you wanted was to listen to another one of those obnoxiously loud and annoying boys that scream on call like a prepubescent loltyler1.

Screw it, you had already gone out of your comfort zone enough might as well continue the streak.

You join the call:

"AYO THEY JOINED!"

The Discord call erupted in a chorus of excited greetings from EZ, his icon almost glowing a constant green from his excited chatter. You were surprised by how charming and friendly his voice sounded, nothing like the usual screamers you're used to on voice chat.

"Hello (Y/U/N)" says 자의 무기, his voice is barely louder than a whisper, yet it still manages to cut through the noise with surprising ease.

"Hey!" You chime back, trying to match their energy.

"Sorry about the misunderstanding with Phel, he's new to League." You tilt your head in interest. Phel? That's an odd name.

"Liar" Phel retorts. "I wasn't paying attention to my role, sorry for stealing your adc."

"Don't worry about it." You reply reassuringly.

"Wanna try again? I can go "The Redeemer" as support."

"Sure let's give it a shot."

And just like that, you were now playing with two new friends. It didn't take long for you to find two extra random players to join your team in lobby and this time there was no drama in champ select.

The match starts spawing your and your teammates on the blue side, you and phel guide your champions to follow your jungler to leash at the red buff. While you wait at camp for the brambleback to spawn you decide to try and get to know these two.

"So is Phel short for something? I've never heard a name like that before."

"Oh uh yeh, My actual name is Aphelios."

You raise a brow intrigued. "Where does that originate from?"

"I believe it's Greek, roughly translates to: far from the sun"

"Oh? Are you Greek?"

You can hear Ez snort. "He most definitely isn't"

"I'm Korean actually."

"Ah I see, I didn't want to assume from your username."

Aphelios laughs, his voice so soft and delicate.

The red brambleback crawls out of the ground and you jump straight into lowering it's hp with your auto attacks and Q, Letting your jungler finish it off before moving onto the krugs.

"I also have a very interesting name too" Ez chimes in, his voice slightly whining at the end. A chuckle escapes your mouth.

"My bad, what's your name then Ez?" You ask, voluntarily taking the bait as you and Aphelios walk to the middle of bot lane.

You can feel Ez smirking over the voice call his voice reverberates in your headset. "It's Jarro" His voice goes on a tangent explaining the origin of his name while you focus on your bot lane as you come across the enemy team. "The Sheriff of Piltover" and an "Empress of the elements"

"The plauge rat" suddenly appears in front of you, landing two auto's as you back away sending your Q missiles at him. Damn they ganking this early?

You fall back, trading attacks with the enemy adc as the red minions crash your wave, heading towards your first turret. Jarro is still rambling on.

"So what's your name?" Jarro asks, his voice finally breaking into your focus.

"I'm (Y/N)."

Jarro let's out an "ahh" in response, his tone warm and friendly. "What does that mean?"

You shrug even though no one can actually see you. "I don't know it's just my name." you say, your eyes darting from the screen to the vc every now and then.

"I think you have a nice name." Aphelios says, he had been quiet up till this point, also focusing on your lane as you traded with the enemy laners together. There's a soothing quality to his soft-spoken voice. Despite his shyness, he felt compelled to compliment you on your name.

"Thanks but I really can't be compared to a name like yours, you sound like you're a fantasy character."

a hint of embarrassment in his voice. He didn't see himself as a fantasy character, and he was never comfortable with accepting compliments.

"My name is nice too right Phel?" Jarro's voice chimes in cheekily fishing for compliments.

Aphelios lets out a soft sigh and rolls his eyes at Jarro's question. He knows he is only looking for compliments, but it's all in good fun.

"Yes, Jarro, yours is nice too." He says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Aphelios glances at your profile on his screen and his expression softens.

The next few minutes are solely focused on your laning. You play your champion passively using your ranged W to your advantage while your health is low as you focus on poking the enemies from a safe distance while farming.

Shortly after, your jungler comes down from jungle and you aggressively go in to chase down the support who tries to run back to their turret. The enemy adc is slain by your jungler, leaving it just between you and the empress. You ignore your low health and follow them as she runs, she casts ignite but with a single W you take the kill then quickly recall in a bush.

"That was close, good job (Y/N)" Aphelios says, you smile.

"Thanks."

You notice the dragon is up and your jungler is pinging it, you cancel your recall and quickly take care of it before the enemy laners can get there. You run around the dragon camp picking up the honey fruit as the three of you go to recall in the bush behind dragon.

The enemy adc appears in your vision, walking towards your bush where the three of you hide, poor thing walked right into her death. You can hear a "pfft" pick up on Aphelios mic as you finally recall to base.

The game continues as you return back to farming minions and trading with the enemy bot laners, Aphelios manages to take out the adc forcing the support to go into a bush and recall before he can chase her down. You make sure to place a vision ward at the bottom of the river to keep an eye out for enemy ganks while Aphelios goes to the top to place another.

The support returns and begins to attack you and boy does she hurt, you fall back as your health bar is hacked at. Lucky Aphelios returns to bot to heal you and you both go back to pressing on as the jungler chases the enemy midlaner nearby, killing her. The three of you easily over powering the other two as the adc dies and the support retreats leaving their turret vunrable.

You enter the mid game phase and things are going good, none of your turrets have been taken down yet. You did die shortly after taking their turret but you were quick to bounce back. There was a comfortable silence in the chat when suddenly you hear someone humming.

Surprisingly Aphelios starts humming, not just generically either, whatever tune is in his head is a beautiful melody. His voice was so smooth and delicate, the way it danced along the notes in perfect rhythm, it was enchanting.

You feel nervous bringing it up but eventually, your thoughts escape through your lips. "Wow, your singing voice is so beautiful Phel."

Aphelios' humming stops abruptly, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I thought I muted my headset."

"What are you apologizing for? You have a great voice my guy" Jarro voice says.

You nod from behind your screen looking back to Aphelios' icon. "He's right you genuinely sound good". You say encouragingly.

"Yeh and I know a thing or two about singing." Jarro chimes.

"Oh really pretty boy? You wanna show us what you've got?" Aphelios asks chuckling.

"Nah I wouldn't want to overshadow your spotlight"

You snort rolling your eyes. Focusing hard as you take down another enemy turret.

And so began your new friendship circle with the boys, after a successful league game you would start another, then another. Talking and gaming late into the night.

You were breathless from singing along with the others quite horribly to their request. At least Jarro was also terrible but you could tell that he was singing bad on purpose. Aphelios was too busy laughing his mic barely picking up on the noise as he tries to cover his mouth as Jarro continues to sing on.

"DO YOU THINK TIME, WOULD PASS US BY?

'CAUSE YOU KNOW I'D WALK A THOUSAND MILES

IF I COULD SEE YOU TONIGHT BANANANANANANANNAA-" Jarro started to sing the riff in a terrible screech the gain on his mic becoming painful to hear.

Aphelios is practically in tears at this point, his face red from laughing so hard. He covers his mouth with his hand, desperate to hold in his laughter, but it's futile. His shoulders shake from the effort, and his eyes are squeezed shut as he laughs. He is having the time of his life, sharing this moment of laughter with the friends he had quickly grown fond of.

He lets out a gasp, trying to catch his breath between fits of laughter.

"Stop… stop, I… I can't breathe.."

He tries to speak, but he can hardly get the words out through his laughter. His breathing is ragged, but he manages to force out a few more words between giggles.

"You guys are… the worst… singers… I've ever heard.."

Jarro and you let out an obnoxious gasp, mocking offense. "

"Excuse me?! Worst singers?" Jarro exclaims loudly, dramatically placing his hand over his heart.

"I'll have you know we are both phenomenal vocalists." Jarro crosses his arms, lifting his chin up in a fake air of superiority.

Aphelios can't help but laugh harder at Jarros exaggerated reaction. He tries to bite his lip to keep from laughing, but the mirth is too strong and his laughter escapes in a series of short gasps and giggles. He wipes a tear from his eye, his cheeks flushed from the laughter.

"Seriously, you're all terrible… Especially you, Ez…"

He says, shooting an amused grin towards Jarro's avatar.

The days passed and the friendship between you and the boys, Jarro and Aphelios, continued to strengthen with each game. Hours spent gaming, laughing, and creating memories together.

Late-night calls filled with laughter, banter, and the occasional musical performance, became the norm.

Both Jarro and Aphelios found themselves looking forward to the moments they spent gaming with you, considering you a valuable and entertaining member of their gaming circle.

Ez, remains as cheerful and energetic as ever, always ready to make you laugh with his dumb jokes.

Aphelios especially began to open up more and more, sharing bits and pieces of himself with you. You had learned that he was currently stationed in Perth Australia, which surprised you as you yourself were living in Sydney.

Apparently, he and his twin sister were long-term exchange students at one of the local universities...

"Oh cool! What are you studying over there?" You asked your voice sounding enthusiastic.

Aphelios would scratch the back of his neck behind his monitor shyly as he bashfully answered. "Oh, I'm taking the Composition and Music Technology course."

A low whistle picks up from Jarros's mic. "Sheesh Phel I didn't think asian parents let their kids do anything other than be a lawyer or doctor."

Aphelios rolls his eyes at Jarro's comment, scoffing slightly.

"Well, I'm a rare exception to that stereotype I suppose."

He says, a small smile on his lips. Despite his shy exterior, he had a hint of sass when it came to his responses at times.

"My parents are surprisingly supportive of my interests, especially my music. As long as I'm working hard and pursuing something I'm passionate about, they're happy."

Jarro nods along with a chuckle. "Hey don't you live in Aussie too y/n?"

"Yep I'm over a few states though, down in Newcastle."

"Newcastle? Where the hell is that?"

You glare at Jarro's icon. "It's in New South Wales."

"..."

"A few hours above Sydney"

"Ah Sydney! Why didn't you say so!?"

You and Aphelios collectively roll your eyes in unison.

"What about you Jarro? You have an Oceania account so you should be either here or New Zealand?"

Jarro's cheeky chuckle can be heard again in your headset. "Nah I'm over in beautiful Canada."

You can't help but let out a confused sound. "Canada? Sir are you lost? How is your ping not crashing your PC on lol?"

Jarro's chuckle returns, unperturbed. "Well, I figured I'd come over here and show you Aussies how it's really done."

He boasts, his ego as big as ever.

"And let's face it, the competition's just a little easier over here."

He adds, a smirk evident in his voice, and Aphelios rolls his eyes again.

You enjoyed having these online friends, they were almost always available to hang out with after your shifts at the cafe, no matter how exhausting your day was Jarro and Aphelios were always there to help you destress. You were more than grateful for those two.

Aphelios would occasionally share his music projects for his assignments with you on the group server, he was certainly talented at composing pieces. His base work was giving indie, atmospheric, lofi but he would try and experiment with other genres to fit the criteria of the assignment.

"Why don't you try singing over some of these tracks?" You ask after finished listening to another one of his pieces.

Aphelios responds a bit shyly, a hint of self-consciousness in his tone. He's never had much confidence in his singing, even though he loves music.

"I mean… Singing for fun is one thing, but performing in front of a whole class is a lot of pressure. I'm not sure if my voice is good enough for that…"

Jarro chimes in, his tone light and casual, as usual.

"Oh, come on, Phel. Your voice is seriously amazing, you don't give yourself enough credit."

He reassures him, trying to boost his confidence

"You're a talented composer and you've got a killer vocal range. You should definitely try singing for your class, I'm sure they'll love it. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

Aphelios lets out a soft sigh, considering Jarro's words. His friend's confidence is endearing.

"I suppose you have a point… But it's still nerve-wracking, you know? What if they don't like it? Or what if I make a mistake?"

You shake your head, quickly disagreeing with him.

"Come on, you're being too hard on yourself Phel. I've heard you sing before, your voice is beautiful. You could easily charm the whole class with those smooth vocals."

You reassure him, genuinely believing in his talent.

Aphelios smiles at your words, his heart feeling a bit lighter. He was grateful to have friends like you and Jarro who believed in him and encouraged him.

"I don't know… I'm just not used to people hearing my voice outside of you guys, you know? It's kind of intimidating…"

He admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Look you don't even have to sing in front of everyone, you can record from the privacy of your home then when you go to present all you have to do is press the play button"

Aphelios slowly nods his head in agreement, considering your suggestion.

"That… That sounds tempting…It would definitely take away the pressure of performing in front of a live audience… That's not a bad idea, actually. I guess that would still count for the assignment…"

He says thoughtfully, his mind running through the idea. Recording from the comfort of his own home does sound less intimidating than having to perform in front of the entire class.

Jarro chimes in again from the other side, his tone cheerful and encouraging.

"That's the spirit, Phel! Record it at home, give it a few final touches, and then just hit play in class. Easy peasy."

He says, seeming to like your suggestion, too.

This is what friends are for right? Supporting each other and encouraging them to reach their full potential? Aphelios could definitely count on you two for that, behind that little discord profile a small smile appeared on his lips, barely illuminated by the glow of his monitor.

And that's how you convinced your online friend to give singing an actual shot. You and Jarro could only laugh and give knowing "I told you so" looks when Aphelios would return the next gaming session flustered by how well his classmates took his singing. He had become a local star in his university overnight.

"I guess singing in front of the class wasn't as terrifying as I thought. They actually seemed to like it… a lot."

He confesses, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he speaks.

"I don't know what to do, I've never had this much attention before… It's a bit overwhelming…"

Jarro grins, clearly enjoying Aphelios' newfound popularity.

"See, I told you they would love it. You're a natural talent, Phel. It's about time people started noticing."

He says, sounding proud of his friend.

"Don't let it go to your head though, you're still the same shy guy that we know and love".

He teases, chuckling.

You giggle along with him. "Don't forget about us while you're famous."

Aphelios had yet to get use to his immediate rise of popularity, it was as if all of a sudden everyone in the university had him on their radar.Typical mornings of quietly walking to and from classes, hiding under an oversized hoodie had now changed to being stopped by every student in the hall to be greeted.

All of a sudden the quiet invisible introvert was now the center of attention with people wanting his insta, to being invited to hang out during lunch and even a few girls and guys admitting their crushes to him.

It was overwhelming to Aphelios in a positive way, it felt really good to be liked by everyone. He finally felt this surge of confidence boost his social life. He had begun to upload covers and original songs to youtube. While he didn't become viral online, he did gain plenty of likes and views (most of said views came from Jarro and yourself).

It had been a few months since he took that first step out of his comfort zone. However, he still found himself hanging around you and Jarro more than anyone else. You were still the people he trusted the most and the ones he felt the most comfortable around. He didn't need to be "popular" or "cool" around you two. You always had his back.

Jarro, always the supportive friend, was ecstatic for Aphelios as he watched his confidence grow. He often joked about how he was a proud "big brother" watching his "little bro" succeed.

Meanwhile, you were more than happy to see Aphelios blossom in his newfound popularity. You'd often chat with him about classes, school life, and of course, music. The three of you had grown closer, not just online friends but real friends.

It once again was a night where you were all on to game, you had started the call in the group chat and chatted to Jarro about your day while the two of you awaited for Aphelios to join. Classes were over according to this week's schedule which meant he should've joined by now.

"Have you heard anything from Aphelios? He's running late" you say as you type to mention Aphelios in the group chat to get his attention.

Jarro on the other end shakes his head. "Nah he still hasn't responded to my dm."

You frown. "You think something's up?"

"Unlikely, he's only half an hour late. He probably got caught up by another one of his fans~" he says with a chuckle.

Just as Jarro says that the tiny pop up "Aphelios is typing" your immediately notice it your eyes widening as you await his message.

신자의 무기 is typing...

신자의 무기: Sorry guys I'm feeling sick, I've got a cold so I can't really join vc.

As you read his message, a mixture of concern and disappointment washed over you.

Jarro, who was also reading the message, let out a sigh. He had been looking forward to gaming with Aphelios as usual, but it seemed like it wasn't going to happen tonight.

"He can still play right? just not talk?" You ask with a hopeful tone in your voice.

Jarro's icon glows green as his mic picks up him typing your question into chat.

Aphelios replies with a thumbs up.

You knew Aphelios would be unable to chat for a couple of days but it had been over a week since Aphelios had gotten sick, you were starting to worry for him.

Opening your dm's with him you begin to type.

(Y/U/N): Hey Phel, still got the cold?

신자의 무기 is typing...

신자의 무기: Yeh, it's just a sore throat... it won't go away.

You frown while reading this.

(Y/U/N): Have you considered seeing a doctor?

신자의 무기: Actually I have an appointment later this afternoon.

You sigh a little relieved.

(Y/U/N): Ok good

(Y/U/N): Update us when you can k?

Aphelios replies with a cute emote of a cartoon bunny with a thumbs up, making you smile.

(Y/U/N): ight see you later

And so you and Jarro would spend the afternoon gaming while you waited for Aphelios to come back online. You were in the middle of laughing at one of Jarro's jokes when you noticed he's gone quiet.

"Jarro?" You ask, checking if he's there.

"(Y/N) check the group chat."

You had barely noticed the discord notification sound, clicking on your task bar where awaited two messages from Aphelios.

신자의 무기: Guys

신자의 무기: I have some bad news.

A/N: And I finally did it! Chapter 1!! Lets fucking go!!! Original Heartsteel lore!!!!

[toxic3mmy]

Star Struck

prompt: you get a message from alex on tumblr

hai lovely peeps <3

this is gonna be a short little book type thing with a few more chapters to come

i hope you guys enjoy!

ps- ill try my best to update this series at least once a week!!!

you mindlessly scrolled through tumblr. yes it wasn’t 2015 anymore but you still used the app religiously. you had a good number of followers, too.

you posted about all the emo and alternative music you were into and not to mention the youtubers who you loved.

your number one favorite youtuber was alexis quackity. you related to him in many different ways. he made you laugh on days you weren’t doing too well. he meant a lot to you, even if you didn’t know him personally and it was all most likely just an internet personality.

still, you found yourself talking about his latest let’s talk streams or even his random tweets. you loved having a community of online mutuals that felt the same way about quackity.

____

halfway across the country, alexis sat cross-legged on the floor of his cluttered apartment, surrounded by a sea of empty takeout boxes and energy drink cans. his eyes were glued to the computer screen, the glow from the monitor reflecting off his square-rimmed glasses. his mouse hand hovered over the keyboard, poised to respond to the endless stream of comments that flooded his youtube channel. his thumbs danced across his phone, scrolling through the notifications that seemed to never end.

it had been a wild ride for alexis since he started streaming games and posting videos under the moniker 'Quackity'. the fame had come quickly, and with it, the adoration of millions of fans around the globe.

sometimes alex would take the time and look through his community of devoted fans. he would use throwaway accounts to simply be unknown for once and just see what there was out there.

his fans were so unbelievably talented. many of them were amazing artists making portraits of him or even writing songs for him. some were even exceptional writers and the fanfiction stories he’d come across were actually pretty good.

amidst the digital chaos, one fan seemed to stand out from the rest. y/n, with her username 'Y/NIsNotHere', had caught his attention with her thoughtful comments and unyielding support. He clicked on her tumblr profile, and there it was: a fan account dedicated solely to him.

her profile was a shrine to his digital persona, filled with meticulously edited gifs, screenshots from his streams, and heartfelt notes about how his content had changed her life. Alexis felt a strange mix of flattery and curiosity. he hovered over the 'send message' button, his heart racing with excitement.

what did she look like? what was her voice like? would she be as amazing as she seemed? with a deep breath, he typed out a simple hello.

granted, he was using a secret throwaway tumblr account so he didn’t expect for an immediate response. and yet, the response still came rather quickly.

Y/Nisnothere: hi! whats up?

emoboy666_: nothing much, just surfin da web. so you’re a fan of quackity?

Y/Nisnothere: yeah im definitely a huge fan. there’s just something about him you know? he’s different, he makes me feel okay

alexis’ cheeks heated up after reading the compliment. he smiled softly as he continued to message you

emoboy666_: i totally get you! it’s nice to be distracted from things

Y/Nisnothere: for sure! so tell me about yourself

emoboy666_: well, im in my early 20s.. im mexican, i love video games and art….. oh and you can just call me A

Y/Nisnothere: well im 21, im also mexican, im also really into all things artsy and nerdy and well, emo lol, and you can just call me y/n :3

emoboy666_: i’m glad we have some things in common! your blog is really cool btw, it’s like a hidden gem amongst the cyber world

Y/Nisnothere: aw thanks! that’s really sweet of you to say <3

emoboy666_: no prob (: so, what are you doing right now?

Y/Nisnothere: oh not much, trying to do homework but getting distracted by tumblr and twitter lol. and u?

emoboy666_: oh same here, what do you study?

Y/Nisnothere: i’m studying art

emoboy666_: that’s awesome! maybe you should show me some of your work sometime

Y/Nisnothere: yeah! id love to (:

emoboy666: me too (:

Y/Nisnothere: (: <3

the two of you continued to message each other practically all night. you were happy to have made a new online friend and alexis was happy to get to know one of his fans.

neither of you truly knew who was on the other end of the phone but you still really enjoyed talking to one another. it was refreshing for the two of you.

you fell asleep with thoughts of your new friend, A

[vigilvntes]

Jason Todd x Reader | On again-off again relationship hcs

A/N: lisTen. i'm incredibly sleep deprived so this is gonna be very messy and i have a whole ass book to read before my class at 9am and i probably won't sleep tonight so let me have this. let me have my low-key volatile relationship with jason todd where we love each other so deeply that we can't even stand to be around each other sometimes because we frustrate the fuck out of each other but we also can't live without each other. as the great lorde once said: let me live that fantasy.

W/C: 2500+ (help me i basically just outlined a whole story </3)

likes, rbs and comments are all very much appreciated <3

SOME NSFW UNDER THE CUT! ALSO BONUS BATFAMILY GETTING INVOLVED IN THE DRAMA AT THE END BECAUSE ,, FUNNY!!

you and jason have known each other for three years, and you've been together for around two years and two months of that time, if damian's calculations are correct. it's electric and heated and frantic and loving and frustrating and soft and infuriating, all at the same time. you just can't seem to stay away from each other. it's a 'cat and mouse' kind of situation, one where you just can't seem to stop chasing each other despite how ridiculously awful it always seems to turn out in the end. the longest you've managed to really hold it together is seven months, but you can't stay away for more than a month at a time.

you make out like teenagers. make love almost every night. laugh at his dumb jokes or funny comments. patch up any mild injuries he comes home with. tickle each other until you're on the floor breathless, surrendering and begging him to show you mercy. you spend lazy mornings together in bed. bicker and shit-talk each other over breakfast. cuddle on the couch late at night. it's perfect in theory, and he's admittedly an amazing boyfriend. he's caring and attentive and he loves to love you and be loved. but your tempers get the better of both of you.

fights break out because you're both kind of impulsive and hot-headed. neither of you can help your snark or cutting comebacks sometimes. you run your mouths about something – anything, and you run the risk of everything breaking down within the hour. you know his weak spots, know how to push his buttons when he's really pushing yours; and as you know his, he knows yours just as well. you'd never go as far as to bring up anything too personal or out of pocket, but you still know just how to get on each others nerves perfectly. how to manually detonate the ticking time bomb before it blows up on its own accord.

you frustrate the fuck out of each other, and he has a tendency to just walk out of your apartment mid-argument. he puts the suit on, tells you he'd rather be out on the streets getting his ass handed to him by a gang of drunks dressed up as teletubbies and then have bane rush in and pummel him into the concrete than have to deal with you when you're feeling particularly prickly, and you tell him to go fuck himself on his way out. the battle to get the last word in commences, and you've often found yourself yelling at him from your apartment window whilst he yells up at you from the street below because you both just refuse to give up the fight.

most times he comes back, but sometimes he doesn't. when it hits 8am and you haven't heard him rummaging through your kitchen cupboards or refrigerator; he still hasn't crawled back into your bed, kissed your forehead softly and buried his face into the crook of your neck, you shrug your shoulders, tell yourself everything's going to be okay. and then sob violently into your pillow because it's over. he's gone. but with jason, it's never really over. by some weird twist of fate (love, but jason prefers to call it coincidence, although it's anything BUT that) you always end up finding your way back to each other. you break up and even DATE other people but it's never serious and it just never feels the same because for some strange reason whenever you're apart you both miss the chaos of each other and even though you can literally be the worst when you're together, you would rather be together and be the worst than be without each other.

jason turns up at your door at 2AM when he hears you might be seeing someone new after a breakup the month before, demanding to be let in and when you relent (pretty quickly) and open the door he immediately has you against the wall, desperately grabbing at your hips and kissing you like there's no tomorrow whilst mumbling that no one could ever compare to him so don't even think about trying to replace him.

he has you naked and spread out on the bed in ten minutes tops, his tongue swirling against your clit in all the right places, big hands gripping on to your thighs. he grins like a fucking maniac when he makes you cum in record time, just under a minute if he was counting correctly. you cum on his face again, his fingers, his thigh and eventually his cock, until you're laid on his chest with his cum leaking out of you, breathless and all fucked out, mumbling 'i love you'. he says it back, reminds you again that no one could ever be him, and you know he's right. you knew this would happen and truthfully you were desperate to have him back which is maybe, possibly why you made a point to mention to roy that you were seeing someone else because you just knew he'd tell jason.

on the flip side, you send jason a risky picture of yourself in a brand new lingerie set when you find out he's going on a date with someone. you immediately apologise and claim it to be accidental and that it was meant for someone else. you watch your phone blow up with calls and texts from jason, listen to each and every angry-horny-frustrated-infatuated voicemail he leaves and grin the whole time because you know you have him wrapped around your finger, as much as he denies it.

you turn your phone off, unlock your door and wait patiently by the open window until you hear angry footsteps coming from below, stomping up the stairs of your apartment building. he busts through your door and demands that you tell him what the fuck you think you're playing at. you feign innocence and tell him that it was a genuine mistake but he knows you're lying and he has you on the couch, straddling his lap almost immediately. your pyjamas have been torn off, giving him an up-close, in-person view of the pretty new set from the picture earlier. the view is much nicer when it's not on a tiny phone screen; pictures do the real thing no justice. his phone vibrates while you're trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck, and you tell him he should take the call because it's probably his date wondering where the hell he is but he just turns his phone off and tosses it to the side. why the hell would he go on some shitty, awkward first date when he could have you?

the reunion is always sweet. there's always that honeymoon period with him no matter how many times you've broken up– upped and left each other following an argument. when it's good, it's really good. but you just can't seem to escape the inevitable. eventually one of you pushes it too far and the whole thing blows up in your faces. he walks out, you cry yourself to sleep and then you find some way to worm your way back into the others life, depending on who picked the fight that left everything broken once again. neither of you are exactly sure why you fight like cat and dog. you're perfect for each other on paper; you understand each other on a far deeper and more intellectual level than anyone ever could. you get on like a house on fire on your good days (which are admittedly most days), but somehow the bad days always seem to outweigh the good. he once made a joke that it's because you love him so much that you can't live with him, but you also can't live without him. he was probably right.

one night, after a particularly nasty breakup the week before, he stumbles into your apartment clutching at his side, barely able to breathe. he's been so uncaring lately, letting himself get caught up in his own head and his emotions regarding you and your relationship and it's lead to him taking a few more blows than he normally would. tonight he paid the price, took what he thinks might be the final hit, and he needed to see you one last time just in case things don't work out for him. you don't even have the chance to ask him what he's doing in your apartment before he's collapsing on to your living room floor, blood dripping through his fingers and on to your carpet. you drop to your knees next to him and whisper his name so softly, inspecting the wound and feeling guilty when he hisses in pain when your fingers brush against it. it's deep, and yes you've patched him up before –you know how to stitch up cuts but you're not a medical professional and this is a serious wound to his abdomen. there's not much you can do about it alone. you're already crying but before you can start freaking out and trying to fix things he takes your face in his hands, his grip weak, and tells you very sincerely that he loves you deeply, and he's sorry for all of the fights he's caused and all of the times he walked out on you and that it's always been you and it always will be.

he's in and out or consciousness and you're begging him to wake up, to be okay; telling him that you love him and you can't lose him. you try your best to stop the bleeding, pressing towels and old shirts against the wound but it just won't stop. so you call alfred from jason's phone, explain to him what's going on and soon enough you're playing host to a batfamily gathering in your tiny living room. dick quite literally has to drag you away from his body kicking and screaming while bruce and alfred assess the situation. they decide to take him back to the manor, and of course you follow them. you spend days by his side, waiting for him to wake up. alfred has to take you by the elbow and walk you away from him to eat dinner or shower or sleep in jason's old room.

it's just so typical that you're not there when he wakes up. you're sleeping, bundled up in his bed sheets when alfred comes to wake you. you literally leap out of bed, almost tripping over your own feet as you run into the room jason's in. that stupid grin, although strained, spreads across his lips as soon as he sees you through half-shut eyes. you're crying already, rushing to his side and resting your head on his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. he chuckles at your reaction, teases you for being so worried about him as if he hasn't already kicked death in the dick before, and he mocks you lightheartedly for admitting that you can't live without him (it was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness). you giggle through your tears, letting it slide because when you look up at him, he's crying too.

it literally takes jason almost dying on your living room floor for you to both realise how much you actually mean to each other, and that having a connection and a love like this isn't something that you can and should just walk away from every couple of weeks. you both decide to start working on things; learning how to control your temper and when the appropriate time to shut the fuck up would be. how to talk things through maturely, without the yelling and constant breakups. of course, you still bicker and shit talk each other. and sometimes one of you will take it too far. jason will glare at you for a moment until you give him an awkward grin and mumble 'oops', and you'll give him the silent treatment for fifteen minutes (which would feel like HELL to him) until he makes you laugh. you're happier this way, knowing that it doesn't have to be that difficult and you can just be. you're not constantly waiting for something to go wrong or for one of you to fuck up, that anxiety has dissipated and you enjoy feeling calm and content with him.

+ bonus: batfamily getting in on the drama

the first time jason stormed into the batcave at 3am, fists balled and eyes red and puffy, bruce was immensely concerned. he sat jason down, put on his best dad™️ voice and asked 'what's wrong?'. jason told him it was nothing, just a little relationship trouble and that bruce didn't have to worry it, he just needed to get away and he thought the batcave would be the perfect place to brood for a few hours before going back home. the second time jason stormed in, he was still concerned for his emotional state, but not all that surprised to see him. bruce left him alone, let jason sit next to him, listened to him curse under his breath. the seventh time? bruce sat at his desk, jason beside him, listening to him ramble on and on about what had happened and how he took it too far again but it's not entirely his fault because you pushed his buttons but he shouldn't have said that to you because he loves you but you just get on his nerves sometimes. bruce nods occasionally, murmurs 'uh-huh' just to prove to jason that he is listening. kind of. sort of. not.

dick receives frustrated, angry texts at ungodly hours in the morning from jason telling him that the relationship is over. jason isn't sure why he vents to dick. it's definitely not because dick gives good advice, jason doesn't even open the texts dick sends back full of agony-aunt type solutions. one night, he receives one of these texts from jason, telling him that you're done with him and he can't ever go back to your apartment. all he can do the next day when he sees you and jason walk into the manor, grinning at each other like you're the sun, moon and stars with his arm wrapped around your waist, is shrug his shoulders.

listen, if damian is going to be forced to sit through the weekly couples quarrel at the manor, he's at least going to make some sort of profit from it. it starts out as a secret, damian makes everyone place bets (with real cash) on how long it'll take you and jason to piss each other off when you come over for dinner. tim wins the first time, and is less than amused when he only receives half of what everyone put into the bet, damian citing that he's the organiser so he gets half of the profit. eventually, he branches out. he starts taking money for bets on how long it'll take for a fight to break out, what you'll be fighting about, and which one of you will leave the dinner table first. everyone joins in (even alfred), and when you find out about damian's little scheme, even you can't help but slide over a $20 bill with a declaration that it'll take jason 45 minutes to say something that'll have you glaring him down. you win that bet, because you know him better than anyone else, and you split the profits with jason. everyone thinks this is unfair, and you're both promptly excluded from participating in the betting.

[lipstickmarks]

Mor headcanons

— Mor x fem!reader

Warnings: brief mention of grief, mention of mor’s trauma, nsfw under the cut

Mor is as generous as rhys. that generosity streak runs in their family. she buys you gifts for every occasion. you never had fine jewelry until her and she makes sure you get a new addition to your collection at least once per season.

she has a love/hate relationship with key lime pie. she’ll eat it if it’s offered and wince at the strange, biting tang of citrus but still finish the whole slice, groaning about it as she does so. she’s prefers more classically decadent treats like chocolate covered strawberries, raspberry chocolate mouse, anything chocolatey with whipped cream.

she loves babies. Being Nyx’s fun rich auntie Mor is the highlight of her immortal existence. She loves poking his little cheeks and rocking him to sleep and buying him oodles of presents. try and take the babe from her when he’s cuddling on her chest after a big solstice dinner, I dare you. whether or not she has babes of her own really depends on if the two of you decide that’s your path but even so, I think she’d wait a long, long time before starting a family. She wants to have time to live for herself first.

when you two agree to the mating bond, she gets you an entire assortment of snacks. she wants you to be able to choose what you want. Mor isn't much of a cook so it's mainly snacks: fruit, chocolates, bread with butter, but it means the world to you that she put so much thought into it. you two decide to split a piece of chocolate.

she’s not super into books. not because she isn’t smart, I think she just prefers other hobbies that are more kinesthetic— dancing, working out, making snow angels, swimming, etc.

red is her signature color but she has a fondness for white and gold, especially on women. If you wear a white chiffon gown with gold accessories, she’ll melt. she’ll follow you around like a puppy and do anything you ask “baby, you look like a goddess”

picks flowers every year on Andromeda’s death anniversary and then sets them in the Sidra to float out into the ocean. usually it’s a small white flower to symbolize the purity of their love and she places it in the water and watches the current carry it out to sea. she stands there for a long, long time.

she’s very private with not only her sexuality and history but just in general. she doesn’t offer up information about herself willingly because she has a fear of it being used against her. so once you two are dating and there’s established trust, she will just casually drop random lore and you will be like “wait you have a tattoo? where?”

kind of a neat freak. her bed is always made and her sheets are always crisp and clear. no clutter in her bed or anywhere in her room. the only time she likes her bed messy is when you two trash it🙂‍↕️

nsfw

she prefers making love by candlelight. Sex has had to mean different things to her in her life so when she’s intimate with someone she truly loves, trusts, and wants to be with (you😍), she wants it to be as romantic as possible. Lights off and pillar candles scattered all throughout your room to set a sexy, ambient tone.

lingerie is her love language. It’s practically part of the foreplay for her. Whether it’s her own or yours, it always turns her on. She loves the femininity and sultriness of it, loves to pull and paw at the ribbons and zippers and buttons and sometimes tear it off altogether. She practically has on fancy underwear all the time and you grow quite the extensive collection once you’re with her.

still not huge on PDA even after being out to her family. holding hands or putting your legs in her lap is one thing but she won’t stick her tongue down your throat in the middle of family dinner

loves putting her hand in your back pocket

[inoshibi1]

-Yandere! Doma X Escaped!Reader-

⚠️warning⚠️mentions of obsessive/aggressive behaviour and taunting.

Fandom: Demon Slayer. Character(s): Doma [upper rank 2 demon]

A/N: I’m sorry if this isn’t very good. Please tell me if there are typos in it, I didn’t have a chance to re-read it♡♡

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It wasn't that you didn't enjoy being with Doma. He took care of you in the Eternal Paradise Cult and made sure that you felt loved and safe. More than anyone else had ever done.

But after so long, an undeniable truth did arise—you were bored.

A person could only stay cooped up in a room for so long. And while you did have plenty of entertainment, the need for something a little more exciting had taken root in your being.

So, it was how you found yourself in this predicament.

It didn't take much running to stumble upon an abandoned village. Dashing through and behind the buildings, you fell down running inside a small home. There were large wooden crates, you utilising them as an opportunity for a hiding spot. To secure your position, you pulled a piece of plywood overtop of the boxes, creating a concealed little nook.

And so you waited.

You knew Doma had followed you here, because you only got about thirty feet away from his home before you heard him calling out to you. And while you recognized that distinct teasing in his voice, telling you that he knew you weren't seriously trying to leave him, he still managed to instill a certain enticing fear in you.

Whether you actually lost him as you entered the abandoned village, or if he was just holding back was beyond you. It didn't matter, when the door to the room you were holed up in was unceremoniously kicked open.

Shoes sounded against the concrete floor, a clear identifier to who had made their entrance. Of course, his smug voice bouncing off the walls served the same purpose.

"Come on out my sweet Y/N. I know you're in here."

You heard his footsteps delve deeper into the room. Slowly.

Menacingly.

The deep baritone of his voice sent chills down your spine, amplified by the echo given off by the fairly empty area. "Y'know, if you wanted to play with me so desperately, you could've just said so."

He wasn't wrong, but you had a strange desire to push the demon's buttons. That, and you didn't know if he'd let you do something this risky if you asked. Still, you kept silent, a hand clamped over your mouth in an attempt to stifle any noise.

It sounded like he was pushing things to the side. Searching every crevice, the noise of wood scraping against the floor meeting your ears.

"If you come out now, I'll go easy on you when we get home....maybe."  Doma snickered to himself menacingly , knowing full well how in for it you were the second he got his hands on you.

You could tell he was getting close, the rummaging nearing your position as he swept the room for your hiding spot.

Doma was nothing if not dramatic at times like these.

The furniture to your right were kicked over, the brittleness in the wood causing them to crumple under the impact. The commotion earned a frightened squeak from you, and the second it escaped your lips, you knew you had lost.

"Hm, what's this?"

You didn't have to be looking at Doma to know that there was absolutely demonic grin plastered across his face. The thumping of your heartbeat picked up, anticipating what was to come.

Aside from his shoes colliding with the concrete, a deafening silence overtook the room―until the low and threatening sound of his voice filled that void.

"Could it be...."

His footsteps came to a halt right next to your hiding place. The plywood was ripped from its spot.

"...a little mouse?"

Your gaze shot up, and they were met with Doma leaning imposingly over your crumpled form on the floor. Wild rainbow coloured eyes pierced yours, holding nothing but danger.

Not a second went by before you were scrambling away, dead set on making a break for it. Or at least, that was until an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Where do you think you're going, my dear?"

Your legs kicked around, unable to connect with anything while you were suspended.

It was a split second decision when you lifted your head up to capture his lips, pouring all the emotion you possibly could into the act in an attempt to appeal to whatever amount of entertainment remained in his body.

His reaction was almost immediate.

He let out a noise somewhere between a possessive growl and a hum of approval as he kissed you back harder than ever before.

From how aggressively you were squirming in Douma’s grasp, you began to see him become more disheveled each time he let you up for air.

He had the faintest blush of pink across his cheeks, a few of the shorter strands of his hair were falling in front of his face - which would occasionally be caught in the kiss, not that he cared. He wasn't out of breath, but his breathing was heavy. He had transferred both your hands to one of his own in order to stop your squirming.

And the look on his face... The pure hunger that was there before he started was gone. Although he was still remaining somewhat civil, There was no denying that he was positively ravenous now.

After what felt like an eternity, Doma pulled back very suddenly, the sheen of sweat that had been shared between your two bodies leaving you unexpectedly cold and confused

It wasn’t until you completely caught your breath when a fit of uncontrollable giggles escaped you as he playfully spun in a circle with you in his arms.

"Noooo, let me go!"

He laughed at your demand, the taunting lilt to it making you shiver. "I'm sorry my dear but I can't. You're in big trouble after this."

In mere seconds, Doma had maneuvered you to be slung over his shoulder, surprising you once again with how strong he really was.

"H-hey! It's your fault for not taking me anywhere fun, I mean you could've at least—"

You yelped when a hand came down on your ass to silence you, prompting you to squirm fruitlessly in his surprisingly iron-like hold.

Doma began heading for the exit of the abandoned home as he spoke. "My dear, we've been over this, you've got everything you need back with me in the cults paradise." He shifted you so that he could pin your still struggling legs down before continuing. "And maybe if you didn’t keep up with that misbehaving attitude of yours, I'd actually be able to take you somewhere nice for a change."

You perked up at the notion—not knowing that Doma had ever actually considered letting you roam a little more freely. "Wait—really?"

He chuckled at your disbelief, pushing the front doors open. The cool air of the night hit your body, causing you to pull yourself closer to the heat radiating off of him.

"Yes, but before I let any of that happen, someone's gotta learn their lesson on what happens when they are disobedient."

Unconsciously, you tensed at the notion, knowing his methods of reprimand would have you in for a long night. It wasn't that Doma would intentionally hurt you, it was just that he would take advantage of all your little weaknesses he'd come to observe. And you knew that he'd make you betray yourself in all the best ways, and somehow get you to enjoy it at the same time.

Sensing your bubbling anticipation, Doma satisfyingly smiled to himself. He made his way through the deserted back streets, not bothering to put you down for fear of any more shenanigans.

Your fate was determined. You'd never be able to get away from Doma, and really, you didn't want to.

"...Now, shall we go back home, my dear?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If You Can't Dance 6

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

Orientation ends but your day is far from over. Your small group, Jensen, G, Marc, Dharshi, and yourself are shown around the building. It’s nice. The office spans the single floor with ample space for all the staff and then some.

Jensen is shown to his office first. He smiles at the rest of you, telling you to send any questions his way. Jonathan confirms this but assures you he will be just as available. Next G silently and somberly enters the doorway with his name on it and shuts the door without thanks. Marc is next, then Dharshi.

You’re the last one left. A spike of paranoia needles behind your ears. What if you don’t get an office? What if you didn’t make the cut? This is why you hate offices. You don’t understand the politics.

“And this is you,” Jonathan taps on the last door. A corner office. Your name is on the door. You frown as you read the title underneath.

“I’m not a senior developer,” you face Jonathan and stare at his top button.

“Oh, dear,” he steps closer and you shuffle back, you can smell his cologne, “I’ll be certain to have that corrected. I hope you don’t think this oversight to be any sort of slight.”

You shake your head. You don’t think much of it. Mistakes happen.

“Let me know if you require anything else. I’m just a few doors down,” he points down the next hall, “I do prefer to stay close… to all my employees.”

“Mhmm,” you nod and turn to the door. You stop yourself. You don’t want to be G, so gruff and silent. Things are different here, people expect you to be normal. You turn your head, “thanks,” you say over your shoulder.

“Anything,” he replies. “I’ll let you get settled.”

You turn the handle and let yourself in. The door clicks gently behind you as you let it go. Before you can even get to the desk, you’re struck by a horrid smell. Pollen. You put your bag down and search for the culprit. A crystal vase of tall gardenia and baby breath stands on the corner of the desk.

You touch your temple and scan the office. There’s tall windows along the walls, giving a nice view of the outdoors. You prefer your walls and your under desk heater. You go over and twist the small crank to open the pain and let in the brisk air.

You already feel the nail pounding into your skull. You don’t think you packed any allergy meds, you didn’t think you’d need them this time of year. You can’t keep the flowers in here. It’s a nice gesture but it’s hard to focus on code when your eyes are bleary from a raging migraine.

You take the vase and carry it to the door. You peek out, checking to make sure you’re not seen. You hate to come off as rude.

You quickly flit down the hall and find your way back to the break room. You have the basic layout stamped in your mind; bathrooms, break room, and meeting rooms. You put the vase on one of the tables and skirt out.

You get back to your office and stand in the strange space. You’re never going to be used to this. You’ve wasted enough time. You have to get set up. 

You unpack your laptop and your special ergonomic mouse and keyboard. You connect to the monitors already set up and adjust the height and angle. You plug everything in and finally sit down. You drop your head forward, clutching it with a groan. Shoot, your head is pounding.

It’s a helpless bid but you dig out the Tylenol from your bag and toss back two tablets. You sip from your large water bottle and swivel in your chair, trying to find comfort in the thin cushion. You’ll have to bring your pad from home.

You grow more and more frustrated as everything around you is wrong. The desk isn’t the right height, the chair squeaks, and the monitors won’t tilt how you want them. No, it’s not the office, it’s you.

The headache doesn’t relent. You only get halfway through the instructions of connecting to the company server before you have to tear your eyes away. You drop your head down onto your crossed arms, bending over the desk as you breathe through the wave of nausea. It’s a full-blown migraine.

Your eyes are watery as you fight to keep yourself together. You should call it a day and go home. At this point, the only way to deal with it is to sleep it off. No, you won’t leave on your first day. That would be a bad look.

You raise your head shakily and prop your head up in one hand. You whimper and make yourself finish your first task. Connected, that’s great. Now, the slack chat. Oof, that’s a lot of font. A lot of messages. 

You scroll through, catching up, then a new message pops up from a senior developer. You recognise his name from the meeting; Timothy. He says hello and you type hi back, the two clacks of a key echoing in your ears.

Three dots pop up almost immediately. He’s typing. He sends through a large block of text and you nearly whine. It’s an exhaustive rundown of procedures and expectations. You don’t understand why this wouldn’t be in a PDF. It ends with, ‘Please review and confirm that you understand’.

You sigh and start reading. The words don’t sink into your mind. You can’t string them together as the effort is enough to make a tear teeter on the brim of your eyelid. You wipe your eyes and sit back. 

A knock makes you jump. You want to scream but that will only make matters worse. So you bend over and take a shaky breath. You push yourself up to your feet, walking with light steps across the office. You stop before the door and brace yourself, forcing your posture straight.

You open the door, unsurprised to find Jonathan on the other side. You got the feeling earlier that he wouldn’t be shy. It is his job to supervise his employees, you suppose you’re just not used to more than a Teams message or quick email.

“I… I saw the flowers in the break room,” he says, “you don’t like them?”

You flutter your lashes. What does that matter?

“Oh, uh, I just thought… they’re so nice I’d put them out for everyone to… enjoy,” you eke out the last word as your eyes gleam and you put your palm to your head as it feels ready to split.

His expression shades to concern, “are you unwell?”

“It’s just… a migraine,” you say, “I’m okay.”

You back up and go to close the door. He stops you as he puts his hand on the wood, “a migraine? Was… Was it the flowers?”

“I…” you swallow, “it’s not a big deal.”

“I am so sorry. I wish I’d know. Darling, you’re more than welcome to take the half-day. You will not be docked the hours,” he plays with a button on his shirt. “I feel so awful.”

“You couldn’t know, uh, but I can get through–”

“No, no, I insist, take care of yourself here. We are all about employee first. You must be healthy to be efficient, please,” he spreads his hand over his chest, a heartfelt gesture, “you must go home and rest. That’s an order.”

You don’t have the strength to argue. Just like the first night you met. That fact embarrasses you. He can’t help but catch you at your very worst.

[slythepuffle]

I'm getting sucked into a fandom for a Digimon DnD campaign. Send help /j

Anyway here's an AU I made for it:

Who We Were AU – The four of them were connected. They knew they were connected, some way and somehow – They just couldn’t remember why. And without the reason, without the memories, they were just strangers. They drifted apart, which was fine, because, again, they were all just strangers with a strange connection and history that they didn’t remember. It didn’t matter at all.

Then, years later, one of them reaches out to the others.

“I know you probably don’t remember me and frankly I don’t remember you all well either. But, I at least know that I can trust you guys. And right now I need your guys’ help. If my theories are right, I’m not the only one who is going to need help…” 

“Years ago, we and a few others went missing. Judging from my own memories, something big happened then. Something that involved all of us. And, again based on my research, none of you remember what happened when we were missing either. But whatever we were involved with, we never finished. Something – Some people – are still in danger. And we need to help them, as soon as we can. But I don’t think we can do this without our memories.”

“Luckily, I think I found a link! One of the people who went with us is still missing to this day. If we can find out what happened to him, then I think we’ll be able to figure everything else out.”

“This is Grayson ‘The Wizard’ McKnight, signing off. Hope to hear from you all soon.”

~~~~ (Blurb Under Cut)

He was working on his computer, as he always did. His screen was the only light source in the room, the night sky so dark outside that it consumed every other light.

Suddenly, a little ping! noise caught his attention. He blinked, switching tabs to see what had just popped up.

“A new message huh? Hm… Let’s hope it’s not spam…”

He moved his mouse, clicking on the message. A video popped up on his screen.

“Ooo, a video? Alright, let’s see what we have here…”

He pressed play.

At first, the screen was nothing but static. He could hear something faint, someone trying to say something, but the noise was too loud. He winced, lowering the volume until the static began to clear somewhat.

A girl stood at a console, desperately pressing buttons and typing. She looked up at the screen, her eyes wide behind her cracked lenses. Her lips began moving and he quickly raised the volume up again to hear her.

“–ello? Hello?! Can anyone hear me?! Please! We need help!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, work you stupid thing–!”

She kicked the console, which sparked. That seemed to cause her some pain, as she leapt back and cursed, tears welling. “Damnit!”

“Julie–!”

The voice, robotic in nature, sent a strange chill down his spine. He ignored it, watching intently as a tall figure entered the screen.

“We must go. The others cannot hold them back any longer–!”

“But I need to get help!” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. She looked like she had been through hell. Poor kid – He wondered what happened to her. What had she been through that led to this? “Please Andromon. At least let me try.”

The android (ragepureboilinghatebutwhy) looked at her solemnly. “I will try to buy you more time then. Please hurry.”

It quickly lumbered out of the frame and the strange feelings he had followed suit. The girl turned back to the screen, trying to steel herself.

“If any of the previous Digi-Destined are hearing this – We are the current Digi-Destined, currently in the D-Terminal in the Digital Forest. We found your– our partners and we saw your message. This world is in danger and– and we couldn’t protect it. We weren’t enough.”

She seemed to falter, hands curling into fists and trembling. She swallowed, fiercely rubbing at her eyes as she continued. “L–Look, if anyone is hearing this – We need you. Your partners need you. The Digital World needs you. So please! Please come and help! I’m begging you… Help us.”

The wall behind her burst, dust filling the room and concealing her as static began to build. He could vaguely see the android (dangerbadrunȑ̸̰̈́ȋ̷̢̦̱̇̊ő̵̡̦͚t̷͉̄̀̾) storm into the room again, just as the static overwhelmed the screen and the video came to an end.

Grayson McKnight leaned back in his chair, staring at his screen with a mix of shock and thought on his face.

“Well… that was something.”

[hearteyedbunny]

Dog Tags

danse/art

danse and art a few weeks after blind betrayal, when they've settled into their makeshift home at red rocket, and they're finally starting to work out their feelings <333

Danse had almost forgotten he even gave his dog tags to Artemis, what with everything else that had gone on that day. He wasn’t usually one to forget things, but he supposed everyone had their moments.

He only noticed them again when he had caught Artemis tinkering with his gun at one of the nearby work stations. Art had abandoned his usual black jumpsuit once they had left the Brotherhood, instead adorning a basic black tee, the dog tags jangling against his chest as he worked.

The realization made Danse stop and stare for a moment before he finally said something.

“You still have them.”

His voice caught the attention of the other man, who stopped what he was doing to look at Danse with confusion.

“What?”

“My dog tags. I gave them to you before we were exiled. I didn’t know you kept them.”

Artemis glanced a quick look down at his own chest where the necklace lay, his hand coming up to mull it over in his fingers before he looked back up with a quizzical look.

“Well, yeah,” he ran a thumb over one of the tags absentmindedly, “You gave ‘em to me. I thought I was going to lose you so I, uh…” he cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly uncharacteristically embarrassed as he drummed his fingers against the workbench, “It just…reminds me that you’re here, is all.”

Danse felt himself smile at how red in the face Art looked. It was rare to see him so choked up on his words. Art was assertive, sometimes worryingly so, and never afraid to voice his opinion whether it was warranted or not. Danse admired his ferocity, but enjoyed seeing this genuine side to him as well.

“I appreciate that you kept them,” Danse had stepped closer as they spoke, reaching out a hand for Artemis to take, which he did, gently intertwining their fingers together, “I’m…grateful for you, Artemis.”

Artemis’ face was burning. It was so difficult not to dismiss Danse’s words entirely and push him away. They had both grown accustomed to their cat and mouse relationship, and it was seemingly difficult to settle into something a little more…genuine. Maybe even domestic, time permitting. The thought frightened Artemis to his core, but the fear of losing Danse frightened him even more so.

“God, don't get sentimental on me,” Art laughed nervously, running a hand through his long, dark hair, the wedding band on his finger glinting in the sunlight as he did so. He supposed he was sentimental too, now having another memento of his love, this one hanging around his neck. He hoped he wasn't starting a collection.

“I'm only being honest,” Danse was still smiling, a sight that made Art's heart beat faster in his chest, “You saved me, and although I've had to start my life over, I'm glad it's with you.”

“What, even after all the hell I put you through?” Artemis was being pulled close by their interlocking hands now, close enough that their chests were touching, “That I'm still putting you through, I guess.”

Danse’s free hand was cupping his face now, his calloused thumb rubbing over the scar that webbed its way across Artemis’ cheek. Art nuzzled affectionately into that familiar, warm hand, his eyes closing in contentment.

“Yes,” Danse actually chuckled at that. He knew their relationship was strange and uncomfortable at times. They had started out hating each other, Danse couldn't remember anyone who had ever pushed his buttons and got under his skin quite like Artemis had done so many times in the past. Sometimes he still annoyed him, they still butted heads, but they had grown to understand each other, even care about each other, and Danse had never felt so drawn to another person in his life, “Especially so. No one else could handle your insubordination.”

Art barked out a laugh, slapping Danse on the chest playfully. A genuine laugh from Artemis was rare, and Danse savored it every time it graced his presence.

“Oh, so you can make jokes?” Art huffed out a breath at the end of his laugh, still grinning as they pressed their foreheads together. Their noses were touching and they could feel each other's breath. 

“I suppose you're rubbing off on me.”

Danse was eager to close the gap between them, their lips finally connecting in a heated kiss as he pulled Artemis in close by his hips. Art was more than happy to return the embrace, a small noise of approval escaping his throat as he leaned into the other’s touch. He snuck a hand to the back of Danse’s neck, his fingers coiling up into soft, dark hair as he kept him in place.

They stayed that way for a moment, only breaking apart when Artemis finally needed to come up for air. If he didn’t need to breathe, Artemis knew he could drown in those lips for eternity.

Artemis worried at his bottom lip as they stood there, held to each other and staring into each other's eyes. He felt like he wanted to say something, anything, to express how he felt. He thought he might love Danse, but his stomach coiled at the thought of acknowledging it. Instead, he pushed it down, content to just keep things as they were. For now.

“I, uh…” Art flashed his teeth in a nervous grin, the sight of his sharp canines making Danse’s stomach flip in joy, “I could use your help working on this gun, if you're up for it.”

“Of course,” Danse’s eyes crinkled in a soft smile. His hand was caressing Art’s cheek again before descending to his chest, taking his own dog tags between his fingers and brushing his thumb over one, like he was admiring it, “I would be more than happy to help.” 

[missygoesmeow]

fear and arousal please 😊

this one is based on that line…we all know the line haha

Tav has agreed to have a few drinks with Raphael in exchange for help with Astarion’s scars. Obviously things do not go as Tav planned haha

Excerpt under the cut :)

“Ah, careful now, little mouse,” he says, those deceivingly gentle eyes finding yours. “You’ll make a mess if you don’t keep still.”

You stare up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the intricately carved detail of a demon and not the body heat emanating from Raphael as he leans over you. Your body is tense in anticipation as you feel the embroidery of his doublet scratch softly against your skin. His mouth seals over your belly button and you bite your lip; his mouth is hot and when you feel him drink the liquid there you suck in a breath. The devil doesn’t move though, you feel his tongue dip in and around your naval as he catches any last remaining drops of the liquor causing you to shudder. His tongue feels strange—too long and oddly shaped—how you wish it would move lower.

[perfectlovevn]

Perfect Love VN Devlog #8

I gotta say, I'm really proud of my UI right now because it looks very good, though it bothers me that the Endings buttons have a weird hover state. But when I said that I didn't like the Renpy UI apparently I made it my own personal issue and decided to destroy it and remake it. All the Milos on the GUI screens also change depending on route because I can't not make it difficult on myself. I was thinking of making the head UI have a different character for the left side (based on any references, else it would just have Eris's sprite) but I'm not sure if the creators would like that and it would have been a LOT of creators I would have to contact and ask about and it would be even more work for me, so I will decide against it for now. Maybe in the future I'll add it back in. The space under options is also bothering me so I might add a button for extras later on when I get the chance. But as you can see, pretty much everything is animated to a certain degree (even the buttons and whatnot are customized for each ending, sound and visual wise) because I take great care in making things look unique (and dying I guess).

SFX and music are really killing me right now because unlike stuff with UI, art and coding, I'm not nearly as versed in deciding those things which is very ironic because it's probably actually one of the more technically easier things for me- since all I'm doing is rummaging through Creative Commons and other free music/sfx stuff to find things to add and not making it myself. I think I might be too picky. I've started adding animal noises to mark each version of Milo (PreMilo is rabbit sounds, Violence is dog sounds and Manipulation is cat sounds) though it's hard to do them without it sounding too strange or out of place. Rabbit/Bunny sounds especially are kind of hard to find, though I did find a handful of them. I'm really glad in the past I was really obsessed with finding free sounds like this because it's really helping me as of now. Still I don't know what's too much sfx and what's too much music and that's what's really getting me a bit confused on what to do.

Still I underestimated how long it will take me to find/assign the right sfx and music, though I will say it will take me about half-two thirds of the time I did sprites though. After that I should be going to do the Perfect Ending, Main Menu (since you can see there's no pupils or anything), a starting warning screen and POSSIBLY extras since I figured out how to make an extra gallery by looking through through another visual novel's code. Oh, and a custom mouse because I realized I forgot about that.

I'll probably get some people to test it for me when I'm done with the Main Menu and SFX.

[idiotwithanipad]

Grief: Humphrey

A alternative of this:

Alison and Mike made one of their annual stays at Button House, their old family home, now a bustling hotel. They made their cheerful greetings with the receptionist and parted ways with a smile, Mike headed off to the kitchen to greet his old friend, now a member of the kitchen staff, while Alison headed up to the Higham Suite to greet her old friends. 

She pushed the door open, optimistic to see the old faces again, but as she stepped inside, their faces were withdrawn and sullen. They sat in silence with their heads bowed, like somebody had died. 

"Hi... Guys? What's wrong?" Alison brushed her greying hair from her brow and placed her suitcase down at her side. Robin dropped his hand from the front of his furs and treaded over to Alison. His brow arched and his lips parted to speak. 

“Stompy..go up to the stars last night…” Robin explained, mournfully. He blinked back tears and set his jaw as Pat’s hand came up to rub against his back. Alison’s eyes widened and she cracked her jaw open.

“Amy? You mean Amy’s gone?” Alison asked, shocked. The group all nodded and sighed, Robin turned away from Alison and grit his teeth.

“We were all having such fun, but then she- just disappeared…” Kitty remembered, her tears brimming. Alison looked amongst everyone and gawked as though her tongue had been caught in a mouse trap. 

“But- she’d only been here for five years..how would she?-“ 

“It happen straight away sometime. Other time it take long time…” Robin explained, his gritty voice seemed laced with sadness. Alison still couldn’t grasp the thought of such a recent ghost suddenly just leaving without a trace.

“But she was-…where’s Humphrey?” Alison fretted as she looked between everybody. The group all seemed to draw in breaths at the mention of the nobleman. Fanny and The Captain practically bowed their heads. 

"Guys, where is he?" Alison asked again, more stern. Fanny stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly at her middle. 

"He's in the library, Alison. He wished not to be disturbed, given the nature of their bond..." Fanny spoke, solemnly. 

The ghosts each nodded, understanding, yet not quite grasping the pain which coursed through Humphrey's heart. How long would it be before one of them shrugged off his mourning and used him as a football or a piñata? Smacked him around like a deflated balloon? He wanted to remain alone, because that's what he was used to. 

The strange girl had checked in with her mother five years ago, completely and blissfully unaware of her ghostly visitors. He had once again, been neglected underneath the East Wing bedroom's bed. His lone head seeing nothing but shoes come and go from the room. 

One pair in particular caused him to do a double take; the thick soles making him wonder how it felt to walk on shoes that bulky. Did it hurt? Would you trip over yourself? If your foot slipped to the side, would you break your ankle? 

After a long and dull afternoon of resting idly under the bed, dust gathering around him, he saw the boots enter the room. Whoever wore them took a seat on the bed as they dangled a few inches from the wooden floorboards. The crack of a can soon followed. Then silence. Then came a coughing, and a gagging, and a gasping. 

The boots staggered to the floor again, and tried to make their way to the door, only for their wearer to stumble back and fall to the floor. He still couldn't see who it was from his position, but he could hear them. The familiar sound of a soul leaving their body. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of light. 

But all that came was a replica of those huge boots twitching and peeling themselves away from their dead shell. He'd called out and cheerfully introduced himself, but the young girl dressed from head to toe in strange, dark clothing, only gawked at him in horror and shuffled back away from the bed. 

That was their first meeting. An unfortunate one, but one that started their long time of getting to know each other. Humphrey hadn't been neglected as much after she came along. He was never left of the stone floor, or forgotten about on a bookshelf, or kicked, smacked or thrown. She wouldn't have it. 

She'd taught him many things, and he'd taught her much more. He truly felt like she was the daughter he never had. Now she was gone, a distant memory scattered to the winds. 

"Alright. You stay here. I need to go find him" Alison spoke, stepping towards the door. They each nodded and bit their lips, briefly, Robin Rose his furred hand up to his face and wiped at his eye. 

Alison made her way downstairs and avoided eye contact with anyone just in case they struck up a conversation. Luckily, the library laid dormant, except for the Tudor, settled on the window seat, staring down at the floor. 

Alison slowed down and knocked her knuckle against one of the bookshelves. 

"Humphrey? It's Alison..." She called to him gently. He looked up and pointed his finger, seemingly about to dismiss her. 

"It's alright, Humphrey. It's just me. I told the others not to bother us..." 

Humphrey's hand dropped back down to his lap, lifelessly.

"I suppose you know then?..." He asked, quietly, his gaze returning to the ground. Alison stepped closer, sliding her hands into her trouser pockets. 

"I do" She confirmed, sadly. 

The Tudor's brow creased and his lip twitched. 

"She's gone..." 

Alison stood at Humphrey's side, looking down at him with sincere pity. 

"She actually joined in for that Karaoke thing last night. For the first time, she sung in front of us. Then- whoosh..." He articulated with an upward flourish of his hands before he dropped them back down. Alison nodded, she closed her eyes; the hurt in his voice was nothing short of heartbreaking. 

If he wasn't a ghost, Alison would've patted him on the shoulder or hugged him. 

"Humphrey- Amy's in a better place now-" 

"How can you be sure? She'd had a lot of painful moments in her life, she told me she liked it 'ere, what if the people who caused the pain are where she is now? What if I can't 'elp 'er?!" He fretted, pinching at his brow. 

"I would've bared the burden for 'er, I really would-..." Humphrey choked up, he leant forward and dropped his head into his hands. 

Alison paused, the foreign sound of the once chatty and beaming Tudor, though occasionally just a talking head, reduced to tears was gut wrenching. 

"I know, Humphrey" Alison comforted, sitting down beside him on the window seat. She held her hands in her lap and stared ahead, unable to imagine the pain Humphrey felt; only in nightmares had she ever lost Mia, she couldn't bare to think what the real ordeal would be like. 

Humphrey righted himself and leaned back, his hands still clutching his head until he was upright; supporting it so that it didn't drop off his shoulders and thump to the floor between his feet. A lone yet heavy tear trickled down his cheek, he never bothered to swipe it away. 

"I know you loved her, Humphrey" Alison spoke, nodding slowly. 

"Like she was my own..." He retorted. Alison clasped her hands together and looked over at him. 

"The others are struggling too-" Alison was about to continue before Humphrey's hands fell down sloppily against his knee. 

"Oh, that's right. Those with legs struggle the most, don't they?" Humphrey spat, venom boiling in his voice. 

"They don't get batted around like a football all day, do they? What do they know? Amy was more to me than a friend. She was- there. She helped me out, a lot. Even when she COULDN'T find my stupid body, she kept me company" Humphrey mourned, before raising his brows and flicking his eyes toward the ceiling. 

"That lot would just place me somewhere and go along their merry way. I could be in the same place for weeks, did anyone even stop to say hello? No they didn't" Humphrey grumbled, tears forming in his eyes again. 

"But Amy did. She took the time to talk to a washed up old bloke like me"

Alison froze, feeling torn between her able bodied friends upstairs and the grieving Tudor. 

"Aside from Kitty and the Savage, none of the others paid Amy any mind. The Captain and Lady B even chastised Amy for her clothes, a lot." Humphrey growled, doing his best to grip at the edge of the window seat. His blood still boiled over the one comment thrown at Amy by The Captain. 'A juvenile delinquent with the attitude of a harpy'.

Alison didn't want to believe that there had been misunderstandings and judgement between the group at any point in time, but the depth in Humphrey's voice made any slither of hope wave from Alison's mind. 

"But they-" Alison started, before Humphrey cut her off. 

"No... I won't hear it" He rose from the window seat and approached the bookshelf to their left. A book had been set at an awkward angle and had fallen slightly, leaning at an angle which created a sheltering space between the book and the shelf. 

Alison watched as Humphrey reached his hand up and clutched his hair, pulling his head from his body and placing it up underneath the leaning book, his face out of sight, his hair facing the rest of the world. 

"What are you doing?" Alison asked as she got to her feet and rushed to the shelf.

"Tell that lot to save their tears, they ain't got the right to shed 'em..." Humphrey said, slowly, coldly and full of pain. Alison could tell their conversation was done; she'd scarcely get anywhere with him in this state, not that she could blame him. 

Without another word, Alison slowly turned and walked away as the customary ten seconds had passed, Humphrey's body shifted into 'roaming' mode, when it became aware of it's missing head and wandered aimlessly. 

Just as Alison reached the doorway to the silent library, she could barely hear the sound of Humphrey's mournful sobs and sniffles from where his head remained hidden beneath the book. 

"Well? Did he say anything, is he alright?" Pat asked, hope brimming behind his spectacles, yet still very much as depressed as the others. Alison gently closed the door behind her, unable to make eye contact with any of them. The group waited with baited breath. 

"He misses Amy, so much" Alison commented. 

"But he doesn't want to talk yet. He still needs time, its- it's a big loss for him" Alison nodded. The rest of them agreed and blinked back their tears. 

"Yes. It is a big loss, we'll all miss Amy" Kitty said, voice crackling with sadness. 

Later that , while the ghosts and Mike slept, Alison sat up in bed. She couldn't bring herself to sleep. But the soft sound of footsteps outside her room alerted her even more. They were slow, clumsy, almost like a drunk with tape stuck over their eyes. 

She recognized them. She headed over to the door and opened up slowly, carefully, trying not to wake her friends or Mike. Down the hall, hobbled Humphrey's headless body. It made it's way through the corridors to get to the East Wing. 

Alison bundled her dressing gown tighter around herself and followed quietly, watching it's every move. The headless body bumbled it's way to the East Wing, seemingly on a mission. 

The East Wing bedroom lie unoccupied, the headless Tudor passing through the door with ease. Alison bent down and peered through the keyhole to make sure there were no sleeping guests. She tried to foorhandle. Locked. 

As she peered back through the keyhole, just for a moment, she made out the shape of the Tudor's body lingering, his hands braced before itself as if expecting to fall at any point. It's upper body shifting forward as if trying to see something at its feet, and it's arms dropped lower. 

It took some time, but Alison managed to get her aching body to an angle where she could see what the body was doing. It stood, by the bottom right bed post, seemingly facing the wooden floorboards beneath it. Over the spot where Amy had died. 

[strikedenko]

The Two Nikos

Chapter 1: From The Outside

Summary: Trying to fight sleeplessness due to a thunderstorm, Niko finds themself the operator of a different World Machine, thus the god of a new messiah. That new messiah, was Niko.

(story under cut)

It was a very stormy night. Loud thunderous claps accompanied the heavy relentless downpour and ensured Niko's restless state. It was well past their bedtime, yet they hadn't slept a wink. They'd usually been able to handle these circumstances, but not tonight it seemed.

The cat-person had taken their daily nap much later than usual, delaying dinnertime by at least an hour, closer to the day's end. Thus, Niko's body was both full and well-rested, further inhibiting their ability to sleep anytime soon.

THOOM. The thunder continued to roar outside, sending a harsh shiver down Niko's spine. A yawn escaped their quivering lips, before Niko sat up and removed the blanket keeping them safe. Off to the Multiverse Machine, they suppose.

Though, mama had explicitly restricted traveling into cyberspace for tonight, fearful that the storm would knock the power out and trap Niko within. She had every right to be concerned, considering it happened before.

...They'd yet to tell her that the World Machine didn't need a computer to return them to the physical world, but how could they even find the right words? As much as they've learned from Cameron, the village IT guy, and the nerd, it seemed nigh impossible to explain.

Besides, they'll have Rekka, their data-borne second mama (or "mumma" going by her accent). Things'll be just fine!

Niko made sure to take silent steps, tip-toeing to the box-like monitor and pressing the big power button on the tower. The screen's brightness took them by surprise, and the high-pitched hum from the CRT seemed louder than they would've liked. Luckily, everything else seemed undisturbed by the booting computer.

...Oh no, the boot sound-

In the nick of time, Niko was able to mute the speakers to keep the loud boot effect from sounding off. They're brought to the user select screen, four options listed with icons selected from a default list. A photo of a sunflower was next to meemaw's login, followed by a soccer ball for mama's, a stack of delicious pancakes for Niko, and a gray silhouette for potential guests.

Niko clicks on the pancakes, bringing them straight to the desktop with a solid teal backdrop. They scoured the various application icons, searching for the light blue cube that was the gateway into the multiverse-spanning cyberverse.

Instead, however, they discover an icon that seemed almost familiar. A yellow upright lightbulb. Curiosity gets the better of them, and they double click on the strange application.

"..."

Niko couldn't help but pause, gazing upon the new window that had opened. Blocky text across the top read OneShot, with that spherical lightbulb in place of the first letter. Two options displayed on the right side of the window, vertically sorted with a noticeable gap in between: Start and Quit.

The one part Niko couldn't quite grasp was the person looking off into the distance.

It was Niko.

After a few minutes processing the sight, Niko clicked the mouse on Start.

...

Enter?

That appeared to work. Judging by how the mouse pointer disappeared hovering into the window, they guessed the keyboard was going to be the primary control method.

The window captured this other Niko waking into the program, before zooming out to a top-down perspective of a dreary bedroom with a desk, bookshelf, and a slightly lit window.

"Oh... Oh no..."

Memories of their journey within the World Machine flooded Niko's mind as soon as they noticed a gray desktop computer sitting atop the desk next to the bed.

Cedric had explained long ago that Cameron held no real power over the world, at least at the time, their role as god was only due to them being able to 'generate' the world, whatever that meant.

With that in mind, did Niko...

Did they just become god?

. . .

>"H-hello?" The Niko trapped within the world spoke out.

Right, the guide should probably get to guiding-

Niko presses enter a couple times, prompting them to walk out of bed and to the computer. Interacting with it brought up a password screen, four digits. Though, none of them seemed to be color-coded like in their memories...

Niko goes ahead and hits enter, resulting in an incorrect answer. They figured as much, the remote control hadn't been found yet. It wasn't long before it was, in a suspicious lump under the carpet.

...Okay, how do they get to their pockets? Niko begins randomly pressing keys, hoping to randomly find it. Thankfully, they found it fairly swiftly, bringing up an odd menu with a few selectable options: Items, Equipment, Notes, and Quit. Niko presses enter, selecting Items.

The only item they had at the moment was the remote control. Niko selects it, making the other Niko take it out, and interacts with the window.

>'In the faint light Niko can glimpse the face of the remote... All of the numbers except 5, 2, 9, and 1 are missing. They're marked in bright colors'

...Why are they colored if the password screen didn't seem to color-code?

Well, regardless, Niko moves away from the window and to the computer once more to input the passcode. 5291.

>'Access Granted.'

It booted into a screen that looked remarkably similar to the desktop surrounding the window. System messages appeared in the center, one after another. Though the exact wording was different, the Niko acting as god felt it very familiar.

...At least, until the message continued further.

Quitting was permanent failure and murder.

They suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

The door unlocked behind the other Niko, prompting them to investigate the rest of the house.

>"Helloooo? ...anyone?"

The first thing Niko did was head to the fridge to grab a bottle of alcohol, before backtracking to the bedroom's lavatory to take a stick off the withered plant, just like how they remember.

Niko navigates through the menu to try and find a crafting option, though to no avail. That is, until they select the bottle of alcohol whilst already having the dry branch equipped.

>'Niko dips the branch into the alcohol.'

With the crafting system seemingly sorted, Niko heads back out to the broken TV and interacts with it while holding the wet branch, setting it alight! They use it to light up the fireplace, revealing a glimmering shine in the ground. Upon investigation, Niko finds it to be the basement key.

They use it to gain access to the basement, before walking down a flight of steps and passing through another door, winding up in front of...

The lightbulb. The sun.

The messiah's burden.

At first, Niko was hesitant to pick it up, knowing the oncoming struggles awaiting the poor Niko ripped from another world to save this suffering one.

Though, it was impossible to progress without it. Swallowing down their nervousness, Niko approaches the bulb and interacts with it.

Everything lit up around them as the sun flared to life and bound itself to the young messiah. There was no turning back now.

Selecting the sun from the Items menu, Niko approached the leftmost doorway and inserted the sun into the bulb-shaped keyhole, transporting them into the Barrens following a pixelated transition. Exiting the train car gave both of them a view of the far-reaching tower, before giving them the freedom to move once more.

A pair of boots sat to the left, which Niko picks up and puts on. They appeared to be running boots, allowing them to move through the world at a faster pace. Wasting little time, Niko rushes down and to the right to meet up with Prophetbot in front of the outpost and get the lay of the land.

>"Ah! That lightbulb...! You're here!"

Niko allowed the two to converse before the robot began accepting questions, though it seemed they could only choose out of four options. Niko read through the other three, about the world, the lightbulb, and going home, before selecting the final one.

"...The computer?"

>"In the house, I found a computer talking to me, though also talking... about me."

>"Oh, might your name be Niko?"

>"...Yes?"

>"That is also the traditional name of our god. Perhaps it was fate!"

Maybe it was...

Niko proceeds to close their eyes to communicate with the one outside, in reality.

>"Hello? Niko? Is that really your name?"

Niko was presented with a yes or no prompt. They hovered over yes, though something caught their attention out of the corner of their eye. The disk tray was outlined with a purple glow, somehow... urging Niko to press it.

Curiosity gets the better of them once more. The moment the fine fur coating the tip of their finger reached the tray, they were suddenly subject to digitization, like they were being transported to the Multiverse Machine.

Niko silently screamed, still not wanting to wake mama from her deep slumber. By the time they realized this called for such noise, it was too late. They'd been sucked into a dying world once more.

"...God? Are you there?"

The other Niko's voice moved through the ears of their hat and caused them to perk. The voice was distinct, yet uncannily familiar. One might've thought they've since gotten used to hearing their own voice coming from other versions of themself, but the simple truth was they still hadn't-

Hesitation forced a few more seconds of delay before an answer could be given.

"Yes..."

The messiah opened their eyes to confirm to Prophetbot, though they immediately got startled from the mirror-like sight. Luckily, they instinctively hugged the sun close so as to not drop it.

"You're..."

"...me. I know."

Niko breathed a sigh. Prophetbot watched the situation play out, undisturbed from the sudden appearance of the nearly identical cat-person. "Please look to them for guidance." Though, the messiah was no longer paying attention.

"You're... god?"

Despite filling the role as such, the Niko from reality didn't really feel comfortable being referred to as such. Call it foreknowledge, but they weren't a fan.

"It's... complicated. Call me your guide."

The messiah remained very confused, though briefly shrugged it off and turned back to Prophetbot.

"So... that's them?"

"I apologize Messiah, but I do not recognize them," the robot responded, increasing their confusion. Niko rested a hand on their shoulder.

"Prophetbot probably won't recognize or talk to me, it's not worth trying." They could think of the reason why, though they didn't wish to generate panic in the messiah, especially so early.

"O-oh..." The messiah shut their eyes, letting out a subtle disgruntled whine. 

"Everything'll be fine, okay?"

"I wish you luck," Prophetbot bid farewell, before waving them off. The messiah, to be specific. It seemed the robot never even acknowledged the other Niko's presence other than that single instance.

"Well, messiah, we should get going. The world isn't going to save itself!" Niko cracked in an attempt to raise the mood. The messiah let out a silent giggle, though they could tell that they weren't super thrilled.

After some hesitation, Niko walks into the outpost, ushering the messiah to come along. Reluctantly, they head inside as well.

The outpost was very different from how Niko remembered it during their time in the world. Other than Prophetbot, it seemed the settlement was devoid of any robots, even ones that were depowered. Quite unsettling...

The two of them looked around the room, Niko keeping close to the messiah. They manage to obtain a screwdriver and discover the box holding the battery, though they had no way of prying the lid off. They needed the crowbar to do that.

"Check areas thoroughly, alright?"

"O-okay.."

They enter a nearby train car, dysfunctional like mostly everything else. "A-ha! A metal rod!" Niko speedwalked over and picked it up, briefly looking it over before offering it to the messiah, who was still holding the sun.

They... very much misunderstood the gesture-

"N-Niko, I'm not going to smash the sun!" They slightly backed away, nearly into one of the holes littering the floor of the car, prompting Niko to drop the rod and catch them before they could fall backwards.

"Careful, me! I was giving it to you to hold onto."

The messiah, still recovering from the near catastrophe, motioned towards the sun in their arms. "My hands are full, though..." Right... Niko withdrew the offer, putting the metal rod in their own coat for later.

"That's not where I remember finding it, though..." They mused. "This place really is different..."

Seems the messiah overheard, though. As they walked back outside and further towards the right, they asked about it. "You've done this before?"

"Yup! Different world, though."

The messiah tilted their head in confusion. "But... aren't you the god of this world?"

"Please don't refer to me as god. It's... complicated, I'll explain later." Such an explanation would involve having to reveal that the world was merely a simulation, and now was not the time.

"Oh, okay..." the messiah sighed.

Moving further, they discovered a sponge sitting at the edge of a cliff. A strange place to leave it, Niko thought.

"...What's it doing here?" It sounded like the messiah agreed.

"I'm not sure, but we should take it. We'll need it for later." The messiah nodded, carefully picking it up while ensuring no harm came to the large lightbulb.

"It has a rough surface," they commented.

In the distance, Niko took notice of a large jelly-like bubble forming atop one of the shrimp pools, pointing it out to the messiah.

"We'll need that later as well, take a mental note. C'mon."

Niko led them around the curve among the shrimp pools, now heading up towards the dormitories in the distance. To the former messiah's surprise, it wasn't blocked by a vent zone.

"Odd..." There were things to do, though. Niko couldn't get hung up on the differences between this world and the world they had explored over a year ago.

The wall of sleeping areas seemed much smaller, albeit just as abandoned. A pair of rubber gloves sat at the base of some machinery. The messiah took a closer look, trying to discern their purposes. Mineral refinery, solar panel...

"Garbage compactor. Specifically designed for heavy-duty crushing of metals," They read from the rightmost machine. The mention of 'metals' in particular piqued the other Niko's interest.

"Say, we could use that to turn this into a crowbar to open that box!" They exclaimed, bringing out the metal rod. "Stand back, this is dangerous."

Niko cautiously sticks an end of the bar into the machine and activates it.

CRUSH. CRUSH.

It gets compressed twice before Niko turns off the machine and takes out the newly formed crowbar. The messiah pockets the pair of gloves while Niko puts away the crowbar. "C'mon."

The messiah looked on, puzzled. "We've got the box to uncover, though."

"We've gotta get one last thing before opening it. It'll speed up the process."

Plus, it'll be nice to see Silver again. The messiah follows their other self to the cliffs. Neither are big fans of heights, but the ground was at least stable enough to soothe their concerns.

"Hey, what's that over there?" The messiah inquired. Niko glanced over to see a familiar electronic safe, where they'd obtained the gas mask to go through the vent zones previously. It had required a code that was all but lost from the world, so Niko expected a similar situation.

There was the issue of the code being somewhere only the operator could access, though they'd cross that bridge when they get there. Hopefully this World Machine recognized that its operator was inside the world itself.

"That's for later. C'mon."

The pair eventually find themselves on wider ground approaching a settlement familiar to the former messiah.

"That's our stop, the Head Engineer."

The two entered through the open doorway and stood before Silver. She looked smaller than Niko remembered-

"The lightbulb... Are you two the messiahs?"

The sun-bearer spoke first, "Well, not really-" before the former messiah interrupted. "Yes we are, actually!"

Silver looked mildly surprised. "Two messiahs? I can't imagine..." She briefly shut her eyes, sighing. "You two look so alike, with those catlike eyes and whiskers."

"I'm not a cat!" the two Nikos exclaimed in unison, prompting them to pause and briefly giggle.

"Fine, fine. Personally, you might be better off leaving and just letting the world die naturally. It's literally falling apart, y'know?"

Niko heaved a sigh, before approaching the tamed robot. "We're not gonna sit aside idle and watch it burn. We were sent to this world to save it, and by golly we're going to!"

Silver was visibly taken aback by the cat-person's admirable statement. "Well, who am I to stop you? It's not like you can just leave. Well, the very top of the spire holds some incomprehensible power. Who knows, it might send you home after your journey is complete."

"Oh!" That spark of hope rekindled the messiah's motivation.

...

The former messiah though was... not as thrilled. They remembered the choice that they would eventually have to make, and... it scared them. It was a hard choice even with Cameron's input, but now Cameron wasn't even here.

"Are you okay?" Silver asked, having noticed Niko's less enthusiastic expression.

"A-ah, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Niko replied, trying to smile and dismiss the negative anticipation. Despite that, the messiah took notice of their apprehension, though chose not to question it right away. The two bid farewell to Silver and head back out and further to the left.

There was a collection of busted robots beyond repair on a strip of land just next to Silver's home. Sitting in the middle was a broken camera, though the lens seemed fine enough for them to use.

"Screwdriver, please?" Niko asked of the messiah, who briefly set the sun down against a robot to fish the screwdriver out of their coat, before handing it to the other cat-person.

"Thank you." Niko then used it to wiggle the lens free and discard the rest of the device off the edge and into the abyss below.

"H-hey! We might've needed that," the messiah objects, to which Niko simply shakes their head. "We won't. Not until the Refuge anyways, and this camera's already busted." They then put the lens in the messiah's coat pocket.

"We've got everything, let's head back."

Reclaiming the sun, the two Nikos embark back to the outpost for the box containing the broken battery. It wasn't a short walk, so the messiah took the opportunity to ask the question that's been bugging them since leaving Silver's place.

"...Am I not gonna be able to return home?"

Hearing the foreboding question, Niko stopped and silently sighed, upset. They didn't want to tell them the truth, though it was impossible not to. It was another version of them, for crying out loud!

Following entire seconds of suspense, they turned back to the messiah and spoke with a warm smile. "You will."

The messiah wasn't sure they liked the preceding hesitation, though. They glance down to the sun they bore, sighing. "I..."

"I promise," Niko reassured. They'd find a way to save the world and get the messiah home if it's the last thing they do.

[deadpuppetboi]

Goretober Day 3: Jaw

There are four types of websites on the internet.

1. Regular: Regular: News articles, profile pages, and even forums discussing what was what and why. Anyone has access to such a thing.

2. Strange: Websites that cater to specific groups, such as children's shows or people's unusual interests. Take a few spins and you'll find the specific websites in the far corner.

3. Absurd: The similar websites, but catered to the ridiculous and delusory, most likely conspiracy theories ranging from aliens to Bigfoot. Ranging from the most remote regions, the ludicrous would be discovered after traveling through a few weird websites.

4. Illegal: Snuff videos, purchasing illegal substances, and discussing information that no sane person would communicate with another. If you're not careful, the men in blue might come around to inspect if the search bar was correct.

Harold would not describe himself as an expert; rather, he was an observer.

He had his fair share of watching both the most heinous and the cutest sections of the internet on the same day. Whatever caught his interest in what he watched, complete video, no pausing, and fully immersed himself in the experience from start to finish. Any other teenager his age would puke at the sight of a man being skinned alive, but Harold would merely watch while eating a fatty cheeseburger.

Tonight was just like any other.

Surfing the web on his computer, idly clicking on anything grabbed his eye and eating whatever greasy junk food was on his dirty desk. His room was disorganized, with crumpled papers and debris strewn around, all lighted by the computer screen. Harold hadn't been bothered by the mess, telling himself he'd pick up after himself when he had enough time.

But, if he was being honest, he just lacked the motivation to do so.

Harold sniffed as he moved his mouse to a search bar above. He typed in a URL he'd seen dozens of times before, his thoughts fixed on what he could see next. He considered one site but changed his mind after watching all the videos and participating in the forums with like-minded folks.

A good friend of his told him about this site months ago, and he used his account to go through the passcode and stuff like that. The grown man took a little break while typing in the URL to sip his drink before finishing it.

‘Valient-ent.tv’

When he pressed enter, the computer blurred for a second before clearing up to reveal a familiar warning.

‘WARNING!

THIS SITE IS FOR ADULTS ONLY AND CONTAINS DISTURBING MATERIAL. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE, YOU MUST LEAVE NOW.’

Harold scoffed and entered the information by clicking on the username and password. When he was completed, he clicked on the small 'terms and conditions' box and pressed enter, finally gaining access to the website.

Valiant Video Enterprises is one of the most popular websites for watching, distributing, and purchasing snuff films in any format.

While Harold hasn't purchased anything from the website (30 dollars for a plastic bag is ridiculous), he has browsed the many forums and viewed a film or two. Tonight, though, he arrived early, his gaze drawn to the huge and colorful words in the center of the page.

‘LIVE: TEACHING SUM FUCKERZ SUM MANNERZ’

Harold clicked on the LIVE button, his computer trying to keep up with the quality before finally displaying the video.

The scenario in front of him was typical, but with a twist. Two battered guys his age were tied up and sitting on metal chairs, both with new and old injuries. One was sobbing, while the other was threatening the men behind the camera with whatever threat they could think of.

But it wasn't them that Harold was looking forward to seeing; it was the man who appeared out of nowhere and strode into the scene that piqued his curiosity.

“Oh, boys, why did it have to come to this?”

A man clothed completely in leather and latex walked out of the darkness, a big and white smile shining through the terrible quality. He was dressed in heavy leather boots lined with black and red, a coat with the same color variation, belts wrapped around each limb, and each corner was as sharp and exact as his nails. The man's face was entirely hidden by his costume, so there was no way of knowing who he was. Apart from the pinpricks of his eye holes in his mask, the only thing visible was his dazzling white teeth.

The man sporting such attire is named Mr. Nasty.

One of the most significant figures in the snuff film industry, his efforts paved the door for expansion not just from one country to the next. Profiting millions off his crazy thoughts and attracting the attention of both the sane and the insane. His heinous crimes landed him on the FIB's most-wanted list; among other criminals, his work is regarded as the worst of all.

Mr. Nasty placed his hands on the men's shoulders, causing them to scream in terror. He laughed as he tenderly padded their shaved heads, sensing their unwillingness to go through another session.

“I thought we had a genuine connection here. A real one. Not one of those fucked up fake ones you see on tv generally targeted towards the young teen demographic.”

He snatched each of their heads and drew them close to his, creating a pouty face as the two men apologized. Mr. Nasty looked over from behind the camera as if attempting to attract the attention of the men behind the camera.

“I really thought we had a connection, honestly, I thought we did.”

After looking down at the camera and witnessing the blinking red, he smiled and went forward into view. He knelt, his face neatly placed up against the camera, and smiled wide and triumphantly.

“Hi everyone.”

Harold eventually saw the chat beside the live broadcast and clicked on it to join the online chat. He smiled at the other remarks that immediately piled in while making a fast note to type up his response.

humperdick: Finally, something I can look forward to.

Rod_Wood: Fresh meat to squeeze! Make ‘em squirm!

captain nemo: Take their shoes off.

“Fuckin’ weirdos,” Harold muttered as he typed in his comment.

@@@l33tdo0d@@@: What did they do this time?

A voice from the other side of the camera piped out, informing Mr. Nasty of the comments that were made. Mr. Nasty appeared content, but not as glad as he was to answer Harold's inquiry, swiftly rising to his feet and returning to the two men.

“What did they do?! My Lord, I can't answer that, these two need to answer for themselves!”

The latex man gripped the two men's shoulders again, this time sharp nails grasping their skin to catch their attention.

“Please, gentlemen, tell the wonderful viewers back home what the fuck you both did to piss me off! They’re dying to know!”

One of the men continued to cry, while the other maintained his cool and spat at the masked man.

“Man, fuck you, we didn't do shit!”

Mr. Nasty was taken aback and looked down at the man.

“You didn't do shit?”

He scoffed, glancing at the camera, and pointed at the man.

“You hear that boys and girls, he didn't do shit!”

He splayed his palms in the air, emulating his astonished expression, before his arm snapped to the side. Fist clenched, brass knuckles slamming the man's threats away, wrenching his head to the side as his jaw involuntarily closed on his tongue. The man let out a quick gasp, coughing up blood as his tongue bled freely from overbiting.

Before he could finish his sentence, he was hit again, this time right in the nose, a sharp crack emanating from the assault alone.

“Bull fucking shit you didn't do shit! You both exactly knew what you did and I'm not going to speak up for you both like I'm your fucking parents. You’re grown-ass men, act like it, dammit, and tell the truth!”

Nasty yelled, grabbed the man's head, and pulled him up to face him. The man on the opposite side exclaimed, yelling his response.

"We'd know if you just told us what we did! We've never seen you before, believe me!"

Nasty turned to face the bereaved guy, and Harold watched as he muttered and snapped his fingers.

“God, I have to do everything myself-”

Two masked men walked in, pushing bloodied stainless steel trolleys into view. Nasty stepped forward and picked out the weapons on the two men as they began to struggle.

“Well, I guess I just need to keep digging through those empty heads of yours to get you to think! But, I've used up all my options, I believe that the viewers should be the ones to pick out what to do tonight!”

The chat quickly became animated as they typed in their requests for what could be done to the two males. A few people inquired as to what brought these two men together in this chamber, but their questions were drowned by the others' desire to see the carnage.

Nasty laughed at every request until he read Harold's.

@@@l33tdo0d@@@: They must’ve talked shit about you Nasty, maybe they need to eat shit to realize what they've done to you.

Harold paused before typing in another comment.

@@@l33tdo0d@@@: Honestly, now that I think about it, not even shit could change their mind! I think they need their jaws rearranged to make them understand what they've done.

Nasty laughed, his sharp claws scraping the weapons in front of him, while the two men shook their heads and repeated apologies after apology. But that didn't appear to change the man's mentality, as his free hand continued to tap away at the stainless steel trolleys. He began to babble to himself in an almost hypnotic rhythm as he examined the weapons in front of him.

Harold turned up the volume to hear Nasty speak.

“I tried the hammer before. Scissors can only go so far. Pliers don't do much either.”

Nasty then snapped his fingers and had a eureka moment before beginning to search through the weaponry in front of him. He clicked his tongue a few times before grabbing the weapon and holding it up in the air for all to see.

While the other two men were perplexed by the thing, Harold recognized it and laughed.

“Oh, shit-”

“Wha-what is that?” One of the men inquired, staring at the equipment and attempting to make sense of it in his head.

“This, boys and girls, is called The Pear of Anguish!” Mr. Nasty answered, holding the pear-like device in his hands. “This baby was used often in medieval times, as a proper torture device, it was used to punish those of all kinds. Women, liars, non-believers, and most dreadful of all: Homosexuals.”

There was the sound of laughter from behind the camera, Mr. Nasty joining in as he stepped back and stood behind the two men.

“Now, if you don't know, The Pear of Anguish was used in two ways to garner its name. You see these four metal leaves here?” The man twisted the device's end to widen the metal leaves, revealing the sharp twisted metal from behind. Harold could see the device plainly even with the poor quality.

“They expand by a simple twist of my hand, now I want you to realize the goal isn't to puncture the flesh but rather stretch it. And I know what you may be asking. Mr. Nasty, where in God’s holy name and the domain would you put The Pear of Anguish?”

Mr. Nasty gave out another laugh, moving over towards the man who spat at him earlier.

“Boys and girls, you must know that the human race were ever so creative with their ideas on how to get answers out of one another. With this particular device, however, there were only certain places where it would be placed to gather the worst possible anguish known to man!”

He drew the device across the bloodied man's cheeks, making him cringe.

“The mouth and in the anus, and honestly, it doesn't take a scientist to put two and two together to know what happens next, does it?”

Harold's gaze wandered over to the conversation, which appeared to have figured out how the device operated. Their enthusiasm improved the ratings, and even more individuals joined in right before the show began. It was then that the men realized what was going to happen to them as well.

They each shook their heads, pleading for aid as they strained in their bindings. Nasty ignored their protests and seized the man's jaw, pressing his fingers in as he forced it open and inserted the gadget from inside. Nasty grabbed the man's neck and yanked him up.

“Hold still, baby, I need you still for this one.”

Nasty locked the gadget in place while the man sobbed uncontrollably. He started to apologize again, but he coughed as Nasty grabbed the end of the device and twisted it violently by the wrist. The metal flaps began to open forcefully, bracing the man's jaw wide open as his worries became a reality.

"Stop!" shouted the other man, "Stop this, God!"

Nasty shook his head, twisting the device yet again, prompting the man in front of him to open his mouth even wider.

“I’m not sure, should I keep going, my beautiful viewers?”

The discussion urged Nasty to continue, with people leaving comments and cheering to watch the vile and despicable gore. Nasty smiled and returned his attention to the man, offering him a simple shrug.

“Well, the people have said it, I have no responsibility for what I may do next!” The masked man then grasped the end of the gadget and twisted it violently, causing the victim to cry out in pain.

“Open wide~”

With each twist, his jaw seemed to expand more than it should. Fresh saliva dripped down his lower lip, his tongue smacking the gadget ineffectively as it grew. As the device ripped into his skin, the man yelled, his teeth clamping and groaning as the pressure grew. He tried to move away, only to have his gums bleed and his teeth fall out of their proper place.

His scream was similar to the others, but in Harold's opinion, it was exactly what he had hoped to hear from the start.

Flesh ripped like paper, blood spilled like a torrent, and bones snapped under pressure. No words could express the man's suffering at this particular moment, his body trembling slightly as his eyes rolled at the back of his head. He choked on his blood, fighting to breathe as he clutched for any mouth of air and his jaw began to break with another twist of the gadget within his mouth.

Mr. Nasty moved back, exposing the scene to the cameras in front of him, when he had gone as far as the device could go. The untouched man continued to scream, most likely to his now dead comrade, pleading for pity as he sobbed futilely. He screamed as Nasty yanked the device from the dying man, watching as his broken jaw bungled over itself, exposing flesh and bone and spewing blood like no other.

Nasty stood tall and proud, returning the equipment to its original form while singing a song to himself and inspecting the gore left on it.

"Oh, now isn't that beautiful?"

He angled the bleeding gadget to one side, allowing the light to shine on it.

"It's art, I'm telling you, it is."

He gently approached the distraught man, his smile never leaving his face. He tapped the bloodied device on the man's chest, causing him to flinch and wail even more.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled, "I'm so sorry." I am. I'm very sorry."

Nasty ignored the man's cries, feeble apologies, and ineffective excuses. He let him speak, keeping a close eye on his anguished expression while tapping the device on his chest. Nasty leaned in close, lovingly caressing the man's head back as he dried his tears with his thumb.

"This is what happens when you cut someone off on the freeway."

For a few seconds, the man appeared perplexed before his eyes widened, absolute disbelief written across his face. But before he could adequately respond, Nasty jumped to his feet and turned to face the cameras, chuckling.

“Now,” he said in a booming voice, “Who wants to see The Pear of Anguish on the other end of the line?!”

As the chatter grew louder, the man yelled out in response, and Mr. Nasty called in men to put the man in place, Harold yawned. He blinked slowly as the man was released from his bindings, only to be tossed onto the table, laying on his stomach, his garments ripped off by a simple grab and pull.

Harold paused the live feed as the camera panned to the man's terrified expression on his distraught face, taking a moment to stretch. He yawned again, looked at the time, realized it was late, clicked his tongue, and looked at his computer.

Harold then exited the website, shut down his computer, and grudgingly rose from his creaking seat, taking just two steps before collapsing onto his filthy bed.

That's enough internet for tonight.

[hazellvesque]

“keep your friends close, but hold me closer”

"We conducted our courtship on rooftops and fire escapes. A strange flirtation, a hide and seek, a game of cat and mouse..." - Catwoman

Chat Noir is Paris's greatest hero. Ladybug is Hawkmoth's right hand woman. And neither of them can hide the growing attraction between the two of them.

A fashionably late backup gift for @fettuccinewrites for @mlsecretsanta!

Read on AO3

*

A frustrated groan slipped from Chat Noir’s lips as he squinted his eyes nearly shut, surveying the cityscape in the dark of nearly midnight. 

“I’m guessing that means no luck on your end either?” Carapace’s voice came through the earpiece muffled and distorted. “Think we should call it a night?” 

Chat Noir pondered his partner’s question for a beat, then pressed the small button on his receiver. “You go ahead, I think I can make some progress on my own. I’ll update you in the morning.” 

Without waiting to hear a response, Chat muted all incoming transmissions. Carapace was an excellent hero - reliable, trustworthy, and a top-notch fighter - but he still hadn’t grown accustomed to Chat’s operative schedule. Black cats worked more efficiently at night, it was a fact of life. Under the cover of darkness, Chat could blend into his surroundings better. He could zero in on every slight shift of movement on the horizon or a rustle of a leaf from an impossible distance. He could avoid the side-eye and judgment of his fellow heroes when he made admittedly poor decisions, like he was about to do. 

Carapace was truly a trustworthy hero, but Chat Noir was ashamed to trust anyone, even his partner, with the truth of the situation at hand. His patrol of Paris had turned up successful - he’d found exactly what he was looking for. Whether that was necessarily lucky depended entirely on the confrontation that would follow. 

There, in the distance, precariously balanced atop a still-smoking chimney, was Chat’s target. She hadn’t bothered with subtlety. No, she wanted to be found, and even this far away, he could see the suggestive grin tugging at her lips, right below her red-dotted mask. She stared up at the night sky, pretending she couldn’t also see him. 

Chat Noir groaned again, more ashamed of himself than anything. As if she could hear him, her smile widened. She always was amused by his frustration. 

He should turn his communicator back on. He should drop his location right now and have Carapace and Rena Rouge and every hero in Paris gather to aid him in the capture of their target. He should, he should, he should. But his stubborn heart wouldn’t dare to let him. 

Chat Noir wasn’t sure when he’d begun falling for Ladybug. But every day, he begged his brain to gain some semblance of sense. She’d been a subtle terror on the city for years, acting as an apprentice to Hawkmoth while keeping herself noticeably out of the public eye. Any time an akuma was wreaking havoc, she could be spotted nearby if one’s eye was keen enough - her sleek black suit spotted with red just barely blending into the shadows she loved to lurk in. 

The first time Chat Noir had seen her, his world was thrown off kilter. His hopeful heart had questioned her sudden appearance - was she perhaps a new hero, eager to join in the efforts against Hawkmoth? She’d appeared like a mirage, so infrequently and surreptitiously that he’d almost thought he imagined her. 

For a long time, she was a secret that he buried. Those suggestive bluebell eyes locking with his across a flaming battlefield weren’t meant to be shared. What felt like ages passed by without a single word uttered between the two of them, only winks and playfully stuck-out tongues that made Chat feel like he was playing, and losing, a child’s game. The most baffling part of it all was that no one else ever seemed to see her. Like she appeared only for him to see. 

And, fool he was, he couldn’t help the blossoming heat that grew into a steady flame in her presence. 

She was the very last person he should be growing any kind of attachment towards. Yet, what first began as innocuous curiosity had grown into Chat Noir’s most shameful secret. In the aftermath of one particular akuma attack months back, he’d caught her wrist before she could slink into the shadows and asked a singular question - “Who are you?” 

In response, she’d raised his hand to her mouth and kissed it, adding fuel to the flames. 

That’s how they’d been going back and forth for quite some time now. Stolen moments where the world around them vanished and all that remained was a conflicted hero staring into the eyes of a beautiful girl, trying to decipher her intentions. 

He told himself over and over again that she was working with Hawkmoth, that she was up to no good, that he shouldn’t keep letting her escape. He was never known for being one to follow his own advice. 

Chat Noir bound across the rooftops on his staff, boldly approaching Ladybug, knowing full well that they were alone and she had no reason to sneak back into the shadows as she usually did. Once he closed the distance between them enough, he offered both of his hands up as a sign of peace. 

“Did you have a sweet phone call with your sidekick?” she offered as a greeting. Stubborn as always, she kept her eyes on the stars, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking at him. 

“I didn’t tell him you were here,” Chat muttered in response. Anyone could hear the clear guilt in his voice. 

“Oh, I know. You’ve got to stop letting me off so easily, kitten,” Ladybug purred, finally locking eyes with him as the term of endearment slipped past her lips. “People are going to start catching on. Might think you’re doing it on purpose, like you’ve got a soft spot for me or something.” 

Chat Noir swallowed hard, forcing down whatever comment was trying to escape his mouth. What could possibly be a good response to that? She’d already nailed down the truth, any other excuse would be flimsy at best. 

An amused smile quirked at the corner of Ladybug’s lips. She stepped away from the chimney, encroaching on Chat’s personal space even more. He could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. The smallest graze of contact would satisfy the nagging urge in the back of his mind. But he had to have a semblance of self-control if this wasn’t going to end in disaster. Still, his fingertips twitched in anticipation as she idled dangerously close.

“You know how they say curiosity killed the cat,” Ladybug murmured. “At this point, all of Paris can see that you’ve got a death wish.” 

“That’s a bold claim,” Chat prayed she couldn’t hear the shakiness in his voice. “You’ve been hiding in the dark for so long, I was starting to think no one in Paris even knew what you were up to.”  

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at him as she stepped closer, which Chat didn’t think was possible. With every word, he could feel her warm breath ghost across his face, sending a familiar shiver down his body. Her satisfied smirk only made his heart thud even harder, but there was no use in hiding his reaction. It was clear as day - she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Wanted me to be your little secret, huh? That’s sweet, but I think we’re both smarter than that. Your little hero friends are catching on.” She pondered for a moment, then continued, “I think one of them may have even started to notice me. That pretty red dragon, what was her name again?” 

Chat Noir held back his biting comment. Ever the observant girl she was, it shouldn’t have come as a shock that she was keeping tabs on the other heroes. It was safe to assume she knew a lot more than she was letting on. A villain never revealed all of their secrets. 

And two could play at this cat and mouse game. 

Chat reached out and clasped her hand in his, gripping just slightly too hard for the gesture to be mistaken for affection. “We aren’t doing anything wrong, are we?” 

“Not at all,” Ladybugs voice dropped to the faintest whisper, just barely audible over the chirp of crickets. “I figured we should take the next step in this interesting little relationship,” she teased. “Sorry, were you not ready to tell your friends about me? Honestly, kitten, I’m hurt.” 

“As long as you aren’t telling your friends about me, I think we’re even,” the threat in his voice was clear. Nothing was worth risking his team’s safety or letting anyone fall into Hawkmoth’s clutches. And while any sensible man would deduce that this clandestine meeting was an obvious trap, something in the back of Chat Noir’s mind told him that the two of them had come to a silent agreement - they weren’t here to talk heroes and villains. 

The only thing on both of their minds was the person standing directly in front of them. 

Ladybug squeezed his hand in return, her eyes refusing to stray from his. “Never. I wouldn’t want this game of ours to end.” 

Chat’s hopeful, reckless heart stuttered. His grip on her hand slackened. Every reasonable, sensible thought dashed from his mind, leaving behind only the vexing idea of closing the distance between them and satisfying that same curiosity she so chided him for. 

“We shouldn’t be playing this game to begin with,” Chat breathed. “It isn’t going to have a happy ending.” 

“Who said a good story has to end happily?” Ladybug lifted up on to her tiptoes, placing a teasing kiss at Chat Noir’s temple. “I’m a bit of a sucker for tragedy myself,” she moved to his other side, leaving an identical searing mark. 

Chat took a deep breath, begging his brain to stop scrambling. “And what about our allies? Our friends? Our enemies? Are you worried about what all of Paris may think of this?” 

Ladybug centered herself, perfectly in position to throw caution to the wind with the slightest tilt of her head. 

“I say…” she began, “to hell with what they may think.” 

With that, something inside of Chat Noir snapped. His hands acted of their own accord - one clawed glove holding tight at Ladybug’s waist while the other caressed her jaw - and he kissed her hard. Their lips crashed together like weapons in battle, painfully aware of the damage they were both causing. Flame erupted in the pit of his stomach as she deepened the kiss, pulling him flush against her. 

All of his thoughts vanished into the air like Hawkmoth’s white butterflies as his hands wandered and grabbed blindly, desperate to hold on to her as tightly as he could. He silently cursed the leather and claws that prevented him from feeling the slope of her shoulders, the flexing muscles in her arms, the dip in her lower back. Ladybug’s hands had made their way into his messy hair, her back against the chimney, as they kissed with reckless abandon. Anyone on the streets could look up and spot Paris’s strongest hero entirely tangled up with who should have been one of his greatest enemies. 

A little secret. A forbidden dalliance. A dangerous game. 

One that, evidently, neither of them cared if they were caught playing. 

Chat wrenched himself away from her lips, touching his forehead to hers as he caught his breath. Ladybug, ever the frustrating foe, only looked the slightest bit disheveled. She stared into his eyes, her signature smirk still lingering on her lipstick-smeared face. 

“Had enough, kitten?” she murmured. 

“Not quite,” Chat Noir took a step back and reached for his staff. “But it’s getting awfully late, don’t you think?” 

There it was - the slightest hint of a frown on Ladybug’s face, a break in her facade. Chat’s decision to pull away first was careful, calculated. He couldn’t let her have all the fun of being chased. 

If it was a game she wanted, then a game she was going to get. 

With a playful salute serving as his only goodbye, Chat extended his staff and took off into the night, only glancing back momentarily to see the shocked expression on Ladybug’s face. 

He refused to turn back or stop, willing himself to ignore the pounding of his heart until he landed back safely inside of his own window. Alone, in the solitude of his own room. Adrenaline fading, he leaned back against the glass, sinking to the floor and lifting a shaking hand to his lips. 

Whether he’d just made a wonderful decision or a terrible one, he couldn’t decide. But no matter. 

It was Ladybug’s turn to pick up the chase now.