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selfless-solipsist · 18 days ago

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°˖✧ The Fuzzy Plague ✧˖° [Wander]

「 ✦ "IT'S HAPPENING! THE FUZZY PLAGUE IS UPON US! HE MULTIPLIED!" ✦ 」

╰┈➤ Wander x Female Reader ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

> Sorry, another Wander one > I'll write one for Hater next, or Sylvia, or maybe... the Black Cube of Darkness? Could be fun!

The chaotic tapestry of your villainous conquest unfurled much as one might expect—a cacophony of terrified screams, imploding empires, and you, standing smugly in the center of it all, arms crossed, radiating the kind of confidence usually reserved for CEOs and smug cats who' have knocked something breakable off the counter. Your name was whispered in fear across galaxies. And yet, somehow, amidst the chaos, one cheerful orange nomad inserted himself into your narrative like a glittery sticker slapped on a death warrant.

You knew of him, of course. Lord Hater couldn't shut up about the "fuzzy menace." He had whined for hours about how this "happy little pest" undid his schemes with banjo solos and kindness, a combo that made the skeleton overlord gag on principle. So, when Wander showed up in your path, all sunshine and twang, you weren't surprised—annoyed, maybe, like finding glitter on everything you owned after a party, but not surprised.

What was surprising was Wander's immediate infatuation.

He crushed on you harder than a black hole on a diet, declaring his love with all the subtlety of a space station explosion. He didn't just flirt—he gushed. Compliments rolled out of him like a malfunctioning praise generator, punctuated by banjo strums and the occasional heart-shaped object he pulled from his hat (which you're still pretty sure obeyed no known laws of physics).

"Oh golly, yer smile could light up a supernova!" he would chirp, wide-eyed and utterly shameless.

At first, you dismissed him, treating his antics with the same nonchalance you reserved for incompetent henchmen and automated customer service lines. But Wander didn't get discouraged. No, he was like a sugar-fueled boomerang—you threw him away, and he came right back, grinning wider and wearing some new ridiculous costume.

But somewhere along the line—perhaps in a moment of weakness, or perhaps because he serenaded you mid-battle and you couldn't stop laughing—you fell for him. Hard.

Fast forward two years, and you were a full-blown couple. To say Lord Hater was "dismayed" was an understatement. The poor guy nearly choked on his energy drink when he found out, muttering something about "betrayal by association." Not that you cared. You and Wander had a good thing going—and, to be fair, a very good thing in bed. Wander, as it turned out, was as enthusiastic and tireless in intimacy as he was in everything else. He learned quickly, too, becoming startlingly dominant when he wanted to be. The fact that reproduction between your species wasn't a possibility meant you both threw caution to the solar wind. And oh, did he make the most of it.

Which brings us to the moment that defied logic, reason, and probably a few intergalactic laws:

Childbirth. Yes.

Your labor was an experience that no amount of villainous bravado could prepare you for. Wander, of course, insisted on helping. "Helping" was his thing, after all. He appeared by your side wearing a surgical mask and rubber gloves he had yanked from his hat, ready to assist with the kind of optimism that made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

"No," you rasped between contractions. "You are not playing doctor right now."

"Aw shucks, sugarplum, I just wanna—"

"No! Sit. Stay. Be cheerful from over there."

Eventually, you delivered a baby boy—a fuzzy, orange bundle of joy who looked exactly like your significant other, right down to the impossibly wide grin. The only thing he got from you was your eye color, which, frankly, you considered a win. The kid didn't even have your species' physiology—Wander's genes apparently steamrolled yours like a hyperactive toddler with a tank. And parenthood turned Wander into something you could only describe as hilariously domestic. He swapped his usual hat for a pink apron that read, Kiss the Fuzzball, and became a one-man safety patrol, constantly swooping in to rescue your son from death rays and tripwires.

"Careful, lil' buddy!" he would chirp, whisking the kid away from certain doom like a cheerful tornado. "Daddy doesn't want ya gettin' vaporized!"

And you? You were still a villainess, still conquering galaxies, but now with an extra dose of chaos in your life. Wander cheered you on (and foiled your plans because that was basically a tradition at this point), your son tagged along with unshakable glee, and together, you were a family—a bizarre, mismatched, impossibly happy family.

Much to Lord Hater's eternal despair.

Which brings us to a very eventful day.

The Skullship corridors echoed with screams that could curdle milk and scare ghosts into therapy. The most feared villain in the galaxy—or at least the one who yelled about it the loudest—was currently sprinting through the hallways like a cat being chased by a vacuum cleaner. Behind him was his worst nightmare, giggling with toddler glee: your three-year-old son, who had inherited all of Wander's unshakable optimism, chaotic energy, and the inexplicable ability to make people simultaneously adore and fear him.

The little fuzzball thundered after Hater on stubby legs, his tangerine fluff bouncing with each step. "Unca Hay-Hay!" your son squealed, arms outstretched. "HUG!"

"HUG?!" The unfortunate victim screeched, his voice cracking so high it shattered a nearby Watchdog's confidence. He grabbed the hapless minion like he was a makeshift shield and shook him violently. "Do you hear that?! He wants to hug me! IT'S A TRAP! HE'S SMALLER BUT SMARTER!"

The soldier, whose name you vaguely remembered as something like Jerry or Gary or Larry, blinked at his boss in wide-eyed terror. "Uh, s-sir—"

"DON'T 'SIR' ME!" Hater yelled, tossing the poor guy like a frisbee at your son, who immediately caught him in an exuberant hug.

"IT'S HAPPENING! THE FUZZY PLAGUE IS UPON US! HE MULTIPLIED!"

From your vantage point on the observation deck—where you lounged with a smoothie in one hand and Sylvia cackling at your side on a plush couch—the scene down below, and behind the windows showing the hallways, was like watching a nature documentary where the apex predator realizes it's actually prey. "This is better than the time I rigged his cloak with confetti cannons," you mused, taking a sip.

"Hay-Hay, no run!" your son chirped, waddling faster, his high-pitched giggles echoing like the unholy spawn of joy and chaos. "HUG! HUG, HUG!"

"NOOOO!" Hater screeched, skidding around a corner with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates. He hurled a chair, a potted plant, and, inexplicably, a toaster in your son's direction. None of them hit. Your toddler caught the toaster mid-air, looked at it with delight, and yelled, "TOASTY!"

Sylvia wheezed beside you, clutching her stomach. "This is gold. I'm so glad I came along for this."

Wander jogged along behind the chaos, cheerful as ever, calling out with his arms open. "Aw, Hater, don't be like that! I've got hugs for you too, buddy!"

The skeleton whipped around mid-sprint, nearly tripping over his own feet. "NO, YOU STAY AWAY TOO! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU MULTIPLIED!" He grabbed another random Watchdog, this one slightly taller (which was an achievement) and clearly rethinking all his life choices, and shook him so hard his helmet rattled. "TELL HIM TO STOP MULTIPLYING!"

The poor guy, who looked like he would rather face a black hole than this situation, stammered, "S-sir, I don't think that's how multiplication works—"

"YOU'RE FIRED!" Hater bellowed, throwing the man at Wander like a meat shield. The fuzzball caught him, set him gently on the ground, and gave him a pat on the head.

"There ya go, little buddy. Remember, hugs make everything better!"

From the look on the Watchdog's face, he might have preferred being thrown into a sun.

Meanwhile, your son squealed with delight and started climbing a pile of discarded chairs Hater had used to barricade a hallway. You leaned back in your seat, drink in hand, and grinned at your friend. "I give five minutes before it gets worse."

She snorted. "Nah, I'm betting three. Look at them—this is already horribly good."

Hater had just rounded another corner, sweating enough to fill a small kiddie pool, when the unthinkable happened. Your little bundle of joy stopped chasing him, pausing mid-waddle to tilt his head at something shiny on the floor—a stray blaster that one of the Watchdogs had carelessly dropped in their frantic escape. Your son's wide, sparkly eyes lit up like a supernova on steroids. "Ooooooooh..." he cooed, toddling over to pick up the weapon with both hands, wobbling under its weight. Don't do such things at home folks.

"Oh no, no, no, no, NO!" The skeleton screeched, his voice shooting up an octave like a squeaky door hinge. He slapped his bony hands against his skull, vibrating with panic. "HE'S GOT A WEAPON! A WANDER WITH A WEAPON! THIS IS THE END! THIS IS HOW I DIE AND I'M ALREADY DEAD!"

Wander, who had been jogging merrily along, froze mid-step. His grin faltered, and his pupils shrank into tiny pinpricks of dread. "Oh golly, little buddy," he said, voice trembling as he held his hands out in a gesture of calm. "That's, uh, not a toy, sunshine. Let's just—how about Daddy takes that, huh?"

Your son, completely ignoring him like any good Wander clone would, turned the blaster over in his little fuzzy hands, giggling. "BOOM!" he announced, clearly thrilled by his newfound discovery.

Hater hit the ground in full-on fetal position, rocking back and forth like a malfunctioning chair. "WE'RE ALL DOOMED! THIS IS IT! THE FUZZBALLS ARE TAKING OVER THE UNIVERSE!"

You, still lounging on the observation deck with Sylvia, snorted into your smoothie. "He acts like this is new information. Wander's been slowly dismantling his sanity for years."

She nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. "This just speeds up the process. Look, the kid's aiming now."

Sure enough, your son had hefted the blaster up, pointing it in random directions while making pew-pew noises. The weapon whirred ominously, charged up by the universe's most oblivious toddler. Wander started flapping his arms like a panicked bird. "Sweet pea, no! That's not for playtime! We use our words, remember? Not energy blasts!"

"Pew-pew!" your son cheered, the blaster glowing brighter.

Before the situation could get any more ridiculous, Commander Peepers stormed into the hallway, his clipboard tucked under one arm and a scowl carved so deep into his face (eye) you were surprised it didn't crack his helmet. "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" he barked, glaring at Hater's crumpled form. "Sir, why are you curled up like a damp noodle?!"

Hater peeked up, his eyes wild with terror. "P-Peepers! Save me! HE'S GOT A BLASTER! HE'S GONNA TAKE MY THRONE AND MY SANITY!"

The second-in-command sighed the way a stressed-out parent sighs after discovering someone left glitter in the washing machine. "Sir, no one wants your throne. Or your sanity. And why does a child have a—"

PEW!

Before Peepers could finish, your son turned the blaster toward him with the precision of someone who clearly didn't understand physics. The weapon fired a glowing pulse of energy that zipped across the room like a caffeinated bee and knocked Peepers' helmet clean off his head. The clatter of the object hitting the floor was drowned out by Peepers and Hater letting out identical high-pitched screams. The smaller alien instinctively lunged for his friend, grabbing onto his cloak in a panic, while Hater grabbed him back, their shared terror morphing into what could only be described as a screaming hug.

"HE SHOT MY HELMET OFF!" Peepers wailed, clinging to Hater like a life raft in a stormy sea.

"I TOLD YOU THEY'RE TAKING OVER!" The skeleton yelled, shaking him violently. "IT'S THE FUZZBALL APOCALYPSE!"

Meanwhile, Wander crouched down to your son's level, his smile strained and his voice trembling with a mix of panic and forced cheer. "Okay, buddy, let's put the scary zap-zap thing down now, huh? Maybe Daddy can trade you for... uh..." He fished desperately in his hat, pulling out a stuffed unicorn, a lollipop, and what looked like a live raccoon. "One of these?"

Your son considered the lollipop for a moment before pointing the blaster at the wild animal. "Pew!" he squealed.

Your partner's eyes widened as the raccoon leapt into his face, screeching. "Gah! Okay, plan B! Plan B!"

From your comfy seat, you tipped your smoothie toward your female companion in mock salute. "Three minutes exactly. You called it."

Sylvia wheezed with laughter. "This is better than watching gladiator fights."

"IT'S HAPPENING!" Hater screamed, now fully unhinged, like a man who had just discovered the universe was actually made of cheese. "THE FUZZBALLS HAVE INFILTRATED EVERYTHING! THEY'RE EVOLVING! THEY'RE GONNA TAKE OVER THE GALAXY, ONE HUG AT A TIME!"

Peepers was still clinging to him, his helmet off and his eye darting around like a squirrel caught in a tornado. "Sir, you're not making any sense! We've already been through this!"

"Oh, but you don't get it, Peepers!" He screeched, hopping to his feet and grabbing a piece of chalk with urgency—he ran to a chalkboard that, somehow, had appeared out of nowhere. With frenzied, twitchy hands, he began scribbling on the board, drawing a series of stick figures that looked like they had been designed by a toddler after a sugar binge.

You squinted at the chalkboard from above. "What... is that?"

Sylvia leaned in for a closer look, nearly choking on her own laughter. "That's supposed to be your kid, isn't it? I mean, I can barely tell, but I think that's what Hater's brain thinks the future looks like. Either that, or the apocalypse mixed with a preschool art class."

Indeed, the skeleton overlord had somehow managed to combine stick figures, scribbles of what appeared to be spaceships, and a variety of nonsensical arrows pointing in every direction—complete with random drawings of socks for reasons nobody could fathom. "See!" He shouted, pointing wildly at the absurd doodles. "THIS IS THE GALACTIC BLUEPRINT FOR DOOM!"

Wander, who was standing awkwardly beside your son, who was still blissfully unaware that he had just nearly destroyed two of the most fearsome beings in the galaxy, started to panic in his own way. "Well, hey now, Hater, it's not so bad!" He chirped, his voice a little too high-pitched as he gave his signature grin, though it faltered ever so slightly. "We can always look at this like an opportunity, right? I mean, uh, yeah, the whole 'destroy everything' thing doesn't sound great, but hey, maybe we could, like, offer hugs as an alternative? Or—ooh, or how about a game of, uh, musical chairs? That could totally lighten the mood! What do you think, buddy?"

He tried offering your son an overly cheery smile, but your child was too busy aiming the blaster at the ground, making it pop with tiny bursts of energy that sent a few Watchdogs diving for cover.

The helper turned to Hater with a sheepish grin. "See? A little positivity goes a long way!"

But the victim, now scribbling even harder on the chalkboard, was not convinced. "DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION?!? THIS IS A DOOMSCAPE. A FURRY PANDEMIC! WE'RE ALL DOOMED!" He picked up a piece of chalk and furiously drew a picture of Wander in his signature green hat, with a gigantic smile that was almost the size of his head. Then, he drew your son next to him, only your son had a speech bubble that read, "HUG!"

Wander glanced over and smiled at the picture, his eyes wide. "Aw, now that's the spirit! See, Hater? Hugging is the answer to everything!" He gave Peepers a light pat on the shoulder, his face glowing like he had just unlocked the secret of the universe. "We're just a big happy family, that's all. The universe does need more hugs! And a few more triple pickle cream pies..."

"YES! I KNOW!" Hater shrieked, his hands shaking as he grabbed a Watchdog by the collar and held him up like a human flagpole. "IT'S A CONSPIRACY! A WANDER-FAMILY CLONE ARMY! THEY'RE GOING TO OVERWHELM US WITH POSITIVITY UNTIL WE'RE ALL FORCED TO HUG OUR ENEMIES!" He then started writing "+ HUG" on the chalkboard in big, shaky letters, as if the concept itself was some kind of dangerous weapon.

Sylvia wiped a tear from her eye, still snickering. "I can't take this. This is like watching a madman unravel himself. It's glorious."

You chuckled, taking another sip of your smoothie. "I'd say this is peak entertainment."

As you leaned back, enjoying the view of the absolute madness below, Wander continued to try and calm the situation. But your son? He was having the time of his life, running around, letting the blaster pew-pew all over the place like it was just another toy—completely unaware of the panic he had caused. And through all of this? You just sat back, watching as your baby, your fiancé, and the most fearful villain in the galaxy had a collective meltdown. But soon, the pandemonium had escalated to a level even the Skullship's most battle-hardened Watchdogs hadn't prepared for. Every corner of the ship seemed to reverberate with screams, blaster fire, and the distinct sound of Hater's mind crumbling like a stale cookie.

Your son, still blissfully unaware of the havoc he was causing, was playing his own little game of "pretend I'm a weapon of mass destruction," running after the soldiers like a little fuzzy whirlwind of doom, shouting "HUG!" with every step.

Wander, despite his best efforts to maintain his usual cheery disposition, was starting to crack. His smile was now a strained, twitchy thing, like he was trying to hold back a laugh during a funeral. "Aw, golly, buddy, that's not how we play with—whoa, okay, stop!" Your son aimed the blaster right at a shelf of vases, and they exploded in a shower of ceramic. His dad gasped, hands flying to his face in pure shock. "Oh no! Oh no, no, no, buddy, we can't do—"

Then, just when it seemed like things couldn't get worse, Lord Hater snapped. His eyes were wide with a mix of sheer terror and utter madness. Grabbing a nearby Watchdog by the collar (yes, again), he shook him like a ragdoll, his voice rising to a pitch only dogs could hear. "FOOLS! YOU FOOLS! WHY DIDN'T YOU SEE THIS COMING?!? WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME THAT A FURRY PLAGUE WAS BREWING RIGHT UNDER MY NOSE?!?"

The poor Watchdog, whose name you didn't bother remembering because he was destined to be scarred for life, stammered, "S-s-sir, we—"

"SIR?!" He bellowed, throwing him aside like a piece of trash. "I AM LORD HATER! THE LORD HATER!" He spun around, hands flying in all directions like an over-caffeinated windmill. "AND THIS IS MY SHIP! MY SHIP, WHICH IS NOW INFESTED WITH CHILDREN WHO DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE SACRED RULE OF NOT DESTROYING EVERYTHING!" He whipped his head around, now zeroing in on you and Wander like you were the masterminds of a worldwide conspiracy to ruin his life. "I blame you two! This is your fault! YOU HAD A KID! YOU MULTIPLIED AND NOW LOOK WHAT WE HAVE! A MINI-WANDER WITH A DEATH RAY!"

Wander, still desperately trying to remain optimistic, grabbed your son by the arms and attempted to drag him away from the wreckage. "Okay, buddy, let's... let's go play with some soft, squishy things, huh? Maybe a pillow fort? Or—OOOH, a game of 'hide-and-seek' in the engine room? How about that?"

Your son, not even listening, turned back to Hater and shot another blast at him. This one grazed his shoulder and he flinched like he had been shot by a cannon.

"GAAAAHHH!" he screamed. "IT BURNS! IT BURNS LIKE A THOUSAND SUNS!"

At this point, Hater was no longer even trying to make sense. He grabbed another Watchdog by the leg and lifted him into the air like he was some kind of new weapon of mass destruction. "YOU FOOLS! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU NEVER UNDERSTAND!"

The Watchdog, now dangling like a ragdoll, weakly squeaked, "Sir, I—"

"No! NO MORE EXCUSES!" Hater shrieked. "I WILL NOT BE TAKEN DOWN BY A WANDER CLONE BABY!" He threw the man across the room like he was a beanbag, and then, to everyone's surprise, he stopped. A long, dramatic pause filled the room, as if Hater had suddenly come to a profound realization. He turned toward Peepers, whose eye was wide with terror, and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "PEEPERS! THIS IS IT! THE END OF THE LINE! THE FUZZBALLS WILL KILL US ALL! IF THESE ARE MY LAST WORDS—" He choked, his eyes wide with the gravity of the moment.

Peepers blinked, confused but oddly compassionate and hopeful. "Sir, I don't—"

"I REGRET... I REGRET NOT FINISHING THAT LEVEL IN THAT VIDEO GAME!" Hater wailed dramatically, clutching his second-in-command like he was the last person on Earth. "I COULD HAVE BEATEN IT! I WAS SO CLOSE! BUT NOW I'M GOING TO DIE, AND I'LL NEVER KNOW THE TRUE POTENTIAL OF THAT GAME! WHY? WHY DID I GET DISTRACTED BY A WANDER CLONE BABY?!"

...

Peepers, who was now essentially stuck in an accidental, death-grip hug with his boss, blinked in bewilderment. "That... that's what you regret?"

Hater nodded gravely. "Yes. That... and not having a better escape plan for when the WANDER CLONE BABY inevitably—"

Suddenly, a blast of energy rang out, hitting the wall right behind the two villains. Your son giggled, holding the blaster at an odd angle, aiming at anything that moved.

"PEW-PEW!"

"OH MY GOD!" Hater screamed in terror, as if this blaster-wielding toddler was the most terrifying thing in the universe. "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! THIS IS MY LEGACY! I WILL BE REMEMBERED AS THE ONE WHO WAS KILLED BY A WANDER CLONE BABY AND A WANDER!" And just like that, he grabbed his right hand man again, holding him tightly as if he was some kind of bulletproof vest. "IF THESE ARE MY LAST WORDS—"

"WE'VE ALREADY GONE OVER THIS!" Peepers shouted, attempting to wriggle free. "STOP CLINGING TO ME!"

But it was no use. Hater was convinced that the fuzzball plague had officially won. And as the blaster shots continued to explode around them like fireworks, the two of them stood there, locked in a bizarre hug—screaming for their lives, like it was a very messed-up version of the last scene in a disaster movie. Meanwhile, your son was enthusiastically toddling after a fleeing Watchdog, the weapon still clutched in his tiny hands like it was his new favorite toy. "Shiny!" he chirped, zapping a nearby panel, which promptly exploded in a shower of sparks. The Watchdog dove behind a crate, shaking so hard his helmet rattled.

Sylvia, reclining next to you with her boots kicked up on the railing, snorted. "This is the best entertainment I've had in years. The universe finally hit Wander with a taste of his own medicine."

You swirled your drink lazily, the smug grin on your face only widening as the mayhem unfolded. "You know, for someone who preaches peace and love, he sure knows how to inspire pure terror. Look at Hater; he's practically molting."

She wiped a tear from her eye once more. "I didn't think anything could make Peepers scream like that. Guess your kid's got some real talent."

Before you could reply, a frantic voice rang out from below. "Sweetheart! Sweetie pie! Love of my life, HELP!"

You leaned forward just in time to see Wander darting up the stairs on the side of the observation deck, his hat bouncing with every step. His wide, pleading eyes met yours, and you could practically see the desperation radiating off him in waves. It was rich—so rich. This was the same fuzzball who had ruined your schemes more times than you could count, and now he wanted your help?

"Isn't this your thing?" you called, waving a hand. "You're Mr. Helper! Go help!"

"Sugarplum, I can't—he's got a blaster!" He yelped, skidding to a stop below you. "And—and he's just like you! He doesn't listen, he's fearless, and he's got no concept of personal safety!" His voice cracked with pure, unfiltered panic. "I can't keep up! He's too much! Please!"

Before you could fully process what was happening, Wander grabbed you. Correction: lifted you—over his head, like you weighed nothing more than a bag of potatoes. It was comical, absurd, and impressive all at once, considering he barely came up to your chest. His tangerine arms wobbled only slightly as he carried you down the stairs with the determination of a dad who had finally met his match.

"Wander, put me down!" you demanded, though you were laughing too hard to sound serious.

"Not until you help!" Wander insisted, his voice wobbling as he avoided another random zap from the blaster your son was gleefully firing at anything that moved. "This is an emergency! A catastrophe! A—whoa, watch out, lil' buddy!"

Your son had managed to dislodge a section of piping from the wall, which clattered to the floor with a metallic clang. He looked at it with the same wide-eyed wonder he had given the blaster. "BOOM-STICK!" he declared, brandishing it like a sword.

"NO!" His dad wailed, spinning in place with you still above his head. "NO BOOM-STICKS! BOOM-STICKS ARE BAD!"

Sylvia, now doubled over on the observation deck, wheezed, "Oh, this is better than my birthday."

You, meanwhile, decided to enjoy the ride. "Wow, you really are strong," you teased, propping your chin on one hand as Wander darted around. "Guess that explains why I always end up pinned in—"

"Sweetheart, NOT THE TIME!" Your husband-to-be yelped, nearly dropping you in embarrassment. He set you down in the middle of the chaos and grabbed your hands. "Please, darlin', you're the only one who can stop him! He takes after you!"

With that you glanced at your son, who was now trying to balance the blaster on his head like some kind of weaponized hat, and grinned. "You're not wrong. He's got my style."

"Yeah, and your complete disregard for common sense!" He tugged at your sleeve like a kid begging for candy. "Please, honeybun! He'll listen to you! Probably!"

You crossed your arms, tapping your chin like you were seriously considering his request. "Hmm. I don't know. This is kind of karma, don't you think? You ruined my plans for years. Maybe I should sit back and let this play out..."

"WHAT?!" Wander looked at you like you had suggested eating kittens for breakfast. "Sugarplum, please! It's our little angel!"

Your son giggled, waving his new weapon triumphantly. "BOOM!" He pressed a random button on the blaster, and a nearby wall panel exploded in a dramatic shower of sparks.

Hater's scream could probably be heard in another galaxy.

"Okay, okay," you relented, stifling a laugh as you marched toward your tiny agent of chaos. "Let's see what we can do before he blows up the ship."

"THANK YOU!" Wander called after you, dropping to his knees in exaggerated relief. "Thank you, sweetie pie! You're my hero!"

You rolled your eyes but smirked, ready to wrangle your little mini-me into some semblance of order. And as you approached your giggling little chaos gremlin, a plan began to form in your villainous mind. You had dealt with Wander enough to know his weaknesses—both of them. And if genetics had truly cursed your son with all of your partner's quirks, there was one foolproof method to tame the beast. Sliding a hand into your pocket, you fished out your secret weapon: a laser pointer. It was sleek, compact, and your absolute favorite tool for handling Wander-level chaos. Why? Because the fuzzball was irresistibly drawn to laser dots like a cat hopped up on caffeine.

“Oh no,” Sylvia wheezed from her perch on the observation deck. “You’re not… You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would,” you said smugly, holding up the laser pointer with a flourish. “Watch and learn, Sylvia. This is how a true villainess wrangles the fuzzy plague.”

You clicked the button, and a bright red dot appeared on the floor, flickering back and forth like a tiny, dancing star. Your son’s eyes widened instantly, his tiny body freezing mid-waddle as if he had just spotted the Holy Grail. His grip on the blaster slackened, and it dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter. “Dot!” he screeched, dropping the other object entirely and pouncing at the laser like his life depended on it. His little legs scrambled as he chased the dot across the floor, giggling uncontrollably every time it darted out of reach.

Wander, standing nearby, gasped in awe, clutching his chest like he had just witnessed the birth of a galaxy. “Oh my stars… He’s just like me!” His voice cracked with an overwhelming mix of pride, disbelief, and something that sounded suspiciously like he was about to cry. “He even pounces the same way! Look at him go! Oh, sugarplum, this is—this is beautiful! It’s… it’s a family tradition!”

“Yeah,” Sylvia drawled, leaning over the railing with an amused grin, “a family tradition of being ridiculous.”

Wander didn’t even hear her. He was too mesmerized by his son’s laser-fueled antics. That is, until the dot slid a little too close to his own feet. His eyes locked onto it, his pupils dilated, and for a moment, all higher reasoning left his mind.

“Wander, don’t—” you started.

Too late.

With a little yelp, your partner dove for the laser dot like an overexcited kitten, tumbling to the floor and scrambling after it on all fours. “I got it! I got it—wait, no! Come back here, you slippery little rascal!”

The zbornak burst out laughing, nearly falling off the railing. “This is better than every soap opera I’ve ever watched combined.”

“Control is key,” you said with a wicked grin, flicking the dot around in erratic patterns that had both your son and your fiancé scrambling in dizzying circles. The resemblance between the two was uncanny—and downright hilarious.

Hater, still clutching Peepers for dear life, gawked at the scene with wide, horrified eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “They’re both like this?! BOTH OF THEM?!” But you only smirked, aiming the laser pointer upward, and flicked it right onto Hater’s forehead. The red dot landed square between his lightning bolt-shaped horns. “NO!” he screeched, swatting at his face like it was infested with bees. “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!”

Wander and your son froze mid-pounce, their eyes snapping up to the dot like they were programmed. For a split second, there was silence—a moment of shared understanding between father and son.

And then they both lunged for the skeleton overlord.

“AHHHH!” He screamed, his voice cracking into a terrified wail as he turned tail and bolted, dragging Peepers along with him like a human shield. “YOU’RE ALL INSANE! THIS ISN’T A FAMILY—IT’S A FUZZBALL INVASION!”

Peepers, flailing in his grasp, groaned. “Sir, put me down! This is humiliating!”

“You think I care?!” Hater shrieked, skidding around a corner with Wander and your son hot on his heels. “I’M THE VICTIM HERE! I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!”

And so, the chaos continued, with Hater screaming nonsense, Wander and your son fighting for the dot, and you standing triumphantly in the middle of it all. The galaxy’s most feared villainess—and, apparently, the galaxy’s greatest wrangler of fuzzy chaos. But then, you decided to drop the biggest bombshell of the day. Watching the whole charade was entertaining, sure, but you had an ace up your sleeve—one that you just knew would throw the chaos into overdrive.

“Wander!” you called out, your voice carrying the kind of dramatic flair usually reserved for soap operas.

“Y-yeah, sugarplum?” he asked, trying to untangle himself from your son, who was currently using his father’s hat as a chew toy.

“I’m pregnant again.”

Time. Stopped.

Wander froze mid-struggle, his head snapping toward you with the kind of wide-eyed look that could only be described as pure, unfiltered disbelief. Your son took advantage of his distraction to tackle him to the floor, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “WHAT?!” His voice cracked so hard it could have shattered a window. He scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over his own legs in his rush to reach you. “You’re—? Again? Really?!” His face lit up with a mixture of awe and panic, his hat now dangling off. “Oh golly, sugarplum, are you serious?!”

You crossed your arms, the smuggest of grins plastered across your face. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

He practically vibrated with excitement, hugging you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him from exploding into a shower of glitter. “Oh my stars! We’re gonna have another one?! Oh golly, oh golly, oh golly—” He suddenly froze, his expression shifting from joy to terror.

“Wait, we’re gonna have another one.”

Oh Grop.

Hater, who had been hugging Peepers and screaming nonsense about his legacy, abruptly stopped mid-shriek. His glowing green eyes widened in horror as the realization hit him like a truck. “YOU’RE WHAT?!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the spaceship. “THERE’S GONNA BE TWO OF THEM?!”

The small Watchdog, who had been doing his best to pry himself free, let out a resigned groan. “Sir, please don’t—”

“THAT'S HORRIBLE NEWS!” The skeleton wailed, releasing Peepers to grab another chalkboard out of nowhere. He began scribbling furiously, this time drawing two stick figures with scribbly orange heads. “TWO! TWO FUZZBALLS! DOUBLE THE HUGGING! DOUBLE THE CHAOS! WE WON’T SURVIVE THIS!”

Wander, meanwhile, had gone full spiral. He dropped to his knees at your feet, clutching your hands like a man possessed. “Oh golly, darlin', I promise I’ll be the best dad! I’ll knit booties for both of ‘em! I’ll make matching hats! I’ll—oh no, what if they both want the same toy? Or what if they team up and we can’t handle it? Or—”

“Honey, breathe,” you interrupted, patting his head like he was a hyperactive puppy.

“I can’t breathe!” He exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with both excitement and existential dread. “We’re having another baby!”

Your son, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation, toddled over to Hater and pointed at the stick figures on the chalkboard. “THAT ME!” he declared, jabbing at one of the drawings.

The skeleton shrieked like someone had doused him in ice water. “GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUZZY LITTLE TERROR! YOU’RE GONNA HAVE BACKUP SOON, AREN’T YOU?! THIS IS HOW IT ENDS! I KNEW IT!”

Peepers groaned and rubbed his temples. “Why do I even bother?”

Sylvia, still lounging on the observation deck, let out a low whistle. “Well, looks like you two are gonna be really busy.” She grinned at you. “Congrats, though. You’ve officially made Hater’s life a living nightmare.”

You smirked, leaning back with your hands on your hips. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

And as the tall villain started drawing increasingly nonsensical apocalyptic scenarios on his chalkboard, Wander alternated between crying with joy and hyperventilating, and your son continued zapping random walls (because of course he picked up the blaster again), you couldn’t help but think that life was about to get a whole lot more chaotic—and you were more than ready for it. Hater though? He had now scrawled what could only be described as a doomsday manifesto on the whiteboard. It was an incomprehensible mess of colors, shapes, and terrifying figures, all pointing to a giant, red arrow labeled:

💀 'THE FUZZBALL REVOLUTION IS COMING.' 💀

He climbed onto a nearby table—knocking over a pile of precariously stacked crates in the process—and raised his arms to the heavens like some kind of deranged prophet. “HEAR ME, GALAXY!” he bellowed, his voice echoing dramatically through the halls of the Skullship. “I WARN YOU ALL: THE FUZZBALL REVOLUTION IS COMING!”

The Watchdogs, peeking out from behind crates, corners, and each other, stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. “The what, sir?” one brave soul dared to ask.

Hater jabbed a bony finger at the nearest chalkboard, which now resembled a preschool art project on steroids. “THE FUZZBALL REVOLUTION! Look at this!” He pointed wildly at a series of stick figures labeled Wander (the worst), Wander Clone Army, Baby #1, Baby #2, and inexplicably, Larry the Rebel Watchdog. “This is the future! Hugs everywhere! Blasting everything that moves! DO YOU WANT TO LIVE IN A GALAXY WHERE EVERY DAY IS JUST... THIS?!” He gestured behind him, where your son had somehow managed to climb onto Wander’s head, using his dad as a jungle gym, while the nomad spun in circles trying to avoid getting zapped by his tiny offspring. “Do you see that?!” Hater screeched, pointing dramatically. “This is the end! The end of evil as we know it! It’s... it’s positive chaos! Nobody’s safe! Not me, not you, NOT EVEN LARRY!” He grabbed a random soldier by the shoulders and shook him violently. “Larry, listen to me! You must prepare yourself! Buy snacks, hoard helmets, stockpile as much anti-hug spray as you can find! IT WON’T BE ENOUGH, BUT DO IT ANYWAY!”

The Watchdog, who may or may not have actually been named Larry, just whimpered. “Uh, yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

“And you!” Hater spun toward the imaginary audience, his skeletal face twisting into a grimace of despair. “I’m talking to YOU out there! Yes, YOU, sitting in your cozy little spaceship or whatever! Laugh now, but when the fuzzball invasion reaches YOUR doorstep, don’t say I didn’t warn you! They’re coming! They’re small, they’re fuzzy, and they have no concept of boundaries!” He threw his arms wide for emphasis.

“THEY WILL HUG YOU INTO SUBMISSION!”

...

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the Skullship’s engines and the occasional “pew-pew” from your son’s blaster. The skeleton stood there, panting, his dramatic ranting having taken every ounce of energy he had left.

Peepers, dusting himself off from where he had been unceremoniously dropped earlier, sighed heavily. “Sir, you need therapy.”

“THERAPY CAN’T SAVE ME!” Hater howled, collapsing into a heap of cloak and despair.

And with that, the self-proclaimed greatest villain in the galaxy curled into a ball on the table, muttering incoherently about laser pointers, hugs, and the impending doom of all evil, while you and Wander exchanged amused glances. Sylvia, still wheezing with laughter, summed it up best:

“Yup. This is why I stick around. You just can’t pay for entertainment like this.”

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drawing-every-warrior-cat · 6 months ago

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Warrior cat #11: Firestar of ThunderClan

Welp, here he is, the “golden boy” of ThunderClan!

Jokes aside I love him so much he radiates orange cat energy

Here he is!

#warrior cats #warriors #warriors series #cats #thunderclan #firestar

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ticklenight · 3 months ago

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Roadtrip

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the landscape as Dabi and Hawks set off on their spontaneous road trip. The car hummed softly as it glided down the winding roads, but Hawks was anything but calm. He fidgeted in his seat, tapping his fingers against his thigh and glancing out the window every few seconds.

“Can’t you sit still for just a minute?” Dabi chuckled, his eyes flicking from the road to his boyfriend. The corners of his mouth turned up in an amused smirk, a rare softness shining through his usual aloofness.

Hawks let out a small, playful huff. “I’m trying! It’s just… the scenery is too pretty, and I feel like I need to stretch my wings!”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “You know you could always just fly, right? You’re the number two hero.”

“Yeah, but I want to enjoy this with you! Just being in the car feels… cozy. But I’ve got all this energy!” Hawks grinned, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief.

With a small sigh, Dabi formulated a plan. “Okay, how about a distraction? Let’s play a game. I’ll ask questions, and you have to answer them without overthinking.”

“Alright! Hit me!” Hawks leaned in, his excitement palpable.

“Okay, first question: If you could have any superpower besides your wings, what would it be?” Dabi glanced over, gauging Hawks' reaction.

“Easy! I’d want the ability to talk to animals. Just imagine all the adventures I could have!” Hawks said, his imagination running wild.

Dabi laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “You’d just end up with a bunch of stray cats following you home.”

“Hey, that sounds like a dream!” Hawks countered, a playful pout forming on his lips.

“Okay, my turn! What’s your favorite way to spend a lazy day?” Dabi asked, genuinely curious.

Hawks’ eyes softened as he thought. “Just cuddling on the couch, maybe watching some cheesy movies. You know, the kind that makes you cringe but you can’t help but love?”

“Sounds perfect,” Dabi replied, his voice lower, almost intimate. “I could get used to that.”

As they drove further, Dabi’s hand found its way to Hawks' thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth from the touch sent a flutter of comfort through Hawks, calming his restless energy just a bit.

“Okay, next question!” Dabi continued. “What’s something you find irresistible?”

“Hmm…” Hawks pretended to think deeply. “I’d have to say someone who knows how to make me blush. Like you do.”

Dabi’s smirk widened, a hint of color creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re smooth, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” Hawks replied, his voice softening as he met Dabi’s gaze.

Just then, a sudden idea struck Dabi. He shifted slightly, leaning closer to Hawks, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I could always tickle you if you can’t sit still…”

Hawks’ eyes widened, and he instantly started giggling. “N-No! Not that! You know how ticklish I am!”

Dabi’s grin turned devilish. “Exactly. So maybe you should focus on answering the next question… or else.”

“No, no! I can do it! Just… don’t you dare!” Hawks laughed, squirming in his seat.

As Dabi launched into another question, the car was filled with laughter and playful banter, the tension of the journey melting away. The road stretched ahead, but for them, time felt infinite.

Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Dabi turned on the headlights, and Hawks settled back, feeling the warmth radiating from Dabi beside him.

“Thank you for this,” Hawks said, his voice sincere as he glanced at Dabi. “I love our little adventures, even if I can’t sit still.”

Dabi’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability shining through. “I love them too. As long as you’re with me, I’m happy.”

Hawks beamed, leaning closer until their shoulders touched. The road ahead was long, but with Dabi by his side, it was a journey filled with laughter, warmth, and endless moments of joy.

#dabihawks #flufftober

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rookie-lou · 4 months ago

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Lightning McQueen (humanized) HC

If Lightning McQueen were a cat he would be an orange one.

Scratch that. Imagine Lightning having an orange cat. In Doc‘s house. And Doc almost loses his mind with these two troublemakers. Lightning found the cat during race weekend. They were strolling through a big city’s streets and there he was. A street cat. It was love at first sight. It took Lightning three days to convince Doc.

Both, Lightning and the cat are energetic and chaotic, they basically run through the house together when they are in their energy phase and Doc tries to save what he can.

Lightning often drops things, stumbles, and is a whirlwind. Now Doc has two of them and he can't decide which of the two is more chaotic.

It is particularly exhausting on rainy days. Both are basically trapped inside, but when the sun shines again both Lightning and the cat are outside.

Doc never wanted a cat. Lightning tries to remind him of this when he catches Doc on the couch with the cat on his lap. Of course, Doc then says that the cat just came onto his lap and he was just about to put the cat down. Of course, he loves that cat.

Both Lightning and the cat are afraid of thunderstorms and Doc (who doesn't mind thunderstorms at all) once found them together under the kitchen table during thunder. Lightning held the cat tightly in his arms. Doc then sat down with them even though his old bones protested. The three of them sat under the table until the storm was over.

Imagine it's the kind of cat that steals other people's things.

Lightning called the cat Bolt, by the way.

Bolt loves stealing socks. Preferably Doc's. And Doc always forces Lightning to look for the socks until he finds them.

That ended in a stressful situation when Doc ran out of socks and Lightning couldn't find any (Bolt always takes them out somewhere behind the house or in the desert. One time Lightning found one on a cactus. Safe to say Doc found out after Lightning brought it home. He found out after putting it on and wasn't pleased at all.)

Anyway, Lightning then secretly bought a huge supply of socks and every time some disappeared he went to the closet and got new ones for Doc. He thinks that's the most ingenious thing. But Doc already knows it secretly. But he doesn't care as long as his feet don't freeze. And even if Lightning then has to spend all his money on socks.

Bolt not only carries things away (like gloves, socks, papers, but mostly fabric things) but also brings new things home with him. A hat from Flo, an old rag from who knows where, and papers from Sheriff (he still didn’t find out where they went).

Bolt is always very proud. Everyone in Radiator Springs has been taking better care of their belongings since then.

Lightning turned pale when, one day, Bolt brought a bikini top home. The next day, Sally asked Flo about it in the café because they had recently been to the bath and spa in the neighboring city. But Flo hadn't seen it. Lightning overheard the conversation but couldn't bring it back because he was too embarrassed and didn't want to look like he had somehow got it. They weren't even engaged yet. To this day, he still has it somewhere in the depths of his wardrobe. He fears the day when Doc accidentally finds it.

One day, Bolt disappeared for a few days and Lightning was devastated. But Bolt came back and then got increasingly fat. It turned out that Bolt was a girl and Doc was stunned that Lightning thought otherwise. But as Lightning said, he wasn't the doctor, but Doc (but Doc didn't check it as they got the cat, he had trusted Lightning with that task).

Bolt had three baby cats. Two gray ones and one orange one. It was chaos when they grew up. After Doc had explicitly said that they wouldn't keep any, Lightning was devastated again. Doc gave in and allowed him one. Flo and Ramone took one cat and one went to Mater.

Lightning chose the little orange cat. It was a boy. He called him Bolt The Second. Doc found that confusing, but every time Lightning called Bolt, two cats came and he was super proud of it.

(Note: The idea for this came when I watched my cat sitting on my desk, throwing something down, then jumping down and pushing it under the desk with his paw, where you can't really reach it. Except with a stick or something. And my cat isn't even officially orange. More like brown.)

#I have things to do #but I had to write this before I forget about it #I hope you enjoyed it #especially now during Whumptober #something funny won’t hurt #I can’t stop laughing about this XD #lightning mcqueen #cars fandom #pixar cars #humanized cars #cars pixar #disney cars #doc hudson

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thejadevampire · 5 months ago

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It was a warm, sun-drenched afternoon in the charming town of Petropolis, where the air was filled with the sounds of playful barks and soft purrs. You found yourself lounging on your favorite blanket in the backyard, a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. As you closed your eyes, letting the sun wash over you, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of blooming flowers and fresh grass. Suddenly, you felt a soft nudge against your leg. You opened your eyes to see Dogday, the spirited golden retriever with a heartwarming grin, wagging his tail excitedly. His fur glimmered like sunlight, and his eyes sparkled with affectionate mischief. “Hey there, buddy!” you exclaimed, scratching behind his ears. Dogday responded with a joyful bark, his tail wagging furiously as he playfully pawed at your hand, inviting you to join in on his fun. Just as you were about to get up, a gentle meow broke through the air. You turned to see Catnap, the elegant calico cat, perched gracefully on the fence. Her green eyes glinted with curiosity and a hint of playful disdain as she surveyed the scene below. “Is this a dog party or something?” she teased, her voice smooth and playful. “I thought I’d find a peaceful spot to nap, not to be bombarded by a hyper dog.” Dogday looked up at Catnap, his tail still wagging. “Come on, Catnap! You should join us! The sun is perfect for both napping and playing!” You chuckled at their banter, feeling a sense of warmth and happiness wash over you. In this moment, you realized how lucky you were to have such spirited companions. “Why don’t we all enjoy the sun together?” you suggested, sitting up fully now and gesturing for them to join you on the blanket. Catnap jumped down from the fence, landing gracefully beside you. She curled up next to you, her soft purring a comforting melody. Dogday, not wanting to be left out, sprawled out on the other side, resting his head on your lap. You could feel the warmth radiating from both of them, creating a cozy atmosphere. As you relaxed, the trio settled into a peaceful rhythm. You stroked Dogday’s fur, feeling the tension of the day melt away, while Catnap purred contentedly beside you. The world outside faded into the background, leaving only the comforting sounds of your beloved pets. Suddenly, Dogday leaped up, filled with energy again. “Let’s play fetch!” he proposed, his tail wagging as he grabbed his favorite ball with his mouth and dropped it at your feet. Catnap rolled her eyes, but a playful smirk crossed her face. “You know dogs can’t resist a game, right? Fine, I’ll watch, but only because I’m curious to see how good you are at throwing.” With a laugh, you tossed the ball across the yard, watching as Dogday darted after it with boundless enthusiasm. The sun glinted off his golden coat, making him look like a little ray of sunshine. Catnap watched with a bemused expression, occasionally swatting at the grass as if to show her disinterest, but you could see her tail flicking with delight. After a few rounds of fetch, you finally called Dogday back, panting but happy. “Alright, let’s take a break!” you said, and he flopped down beside you, tongue lolling out in pure bliss. Catnap stretched out, her eyes half-closed. “See? This is what a proper afternoon should look like. A little sun, a little play, and a lot of lounging.” You smiled, feeling grateful for the simple joys of the day. The bond you shared with Dogday and Catnap felt profound, a beautiful mix of playful chaos and serene companionship. As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over Petropolis, you realized that these moments were treasures, the kind you would cherish forever. With the sky painted in shades of pink and orange, you leaned back, surrounded by your furry friends, and allowed yourself to drift off into a peaceful nap, dreaming of more adventures to come with Dogday, Catnap, and the warmth of the sun.

#dogday x catnap #dogdayxcatnapxreader #poppy playtime

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the-era-of-shadow · 7 months ago

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What is Paradise?

Written by Ash Rose

Summary:

Planning to meet up with her long term partner Tails, Cosmo travels to Aerth once more. But the first person she encounters once she gets there is not Tails, but a seemingly gentle giant known as Big. Both parties immediately see through each other's facades, however, and end up having a rather in depth discussion of current events.

THIS STORY CONTAINS: Themes of isolation, mentions of fictional political turmoil

Author's Note: Hi if this is your introduction to TEoS, make it not be plz, I feel like you'll be so confused-

As the sun rises once more as it always does, the sky shifts in hue from the dark indigo of the night to shades of orange and yellow that follow the sun’s path, like attendants to a ruler, before fading out and revealing the sky’s new color - a color that is rather aptly referred to as ‘sky blue’. This event happens every single day, and as it does, a quite large cat with the also rather apt name of ‘Big’, along with his dearest companion Froggy, come out of their home and prepare for another day of fishing along the edge of the river that runs all throughout the very forested area of the Mystic Ruins in which they both live. The life Big leads is quite simple, but he doesn’t mind it at all - after all, he actively chose this life.

Despite that, he has been feeling a bit… uneasy recently. It’s very hard to blame him for this, as there has been a lot going on with his friends recently. Especially Ms. Vanilla.

Ever since the Freedom Fighters came to visit the Mystic Ruins back in early October, they’ve been working very hard to figure out what it is that has been ailing Ms. Vanilla, left with only crumbs to go off of by Amy’s mother Tsunami, who seemed to have known what it was - but was also in a frantic rush to go visit Lady Chaos, likely due to this knowledge. Amy did say that she had felt her presence from time to time in the days that followed, but it wouldn’t be until a week later that she finally caught her mom’s attention and made her confess to what she was suspecting it to be. Even though a good few of the Freedom Fighters and their allies, including Big himself, were starting to fear the worst, it still came as quite the shock to them all when Amy and Tsunami sheepishly - and tearfully in Amy’s case - revealed that due to the multiple years of exposure that Vanilla has had, she is going through the effects of Black Arms assimilation.

While the news certainly hit everyone very harshly, Big in particular was absolutely devastated to hear such a thing - especially due to him being quite convinced that he had some fault in it. When Amy told him, she was very intentional in placing the blame solely on Vanilla’s now ex-friend of multiple years, ‘Wilma Breviar’, otherwise known by her real name, Black Widow - as she wasn’t even fully comfortable with blaming Widow’s young son Garrick. But the guilt still hit Big like a truck as he realized he had basically completely forgotten the fact that he was, indeed, a disguised Black Arms, even if he was rogue, and had very much become irresponsible with being too close to the Aerthlings he cared about, infecting them with chaos energy radiation whether he meant to or not. Even though Amy insisted that he should not blame himself for the current situation, she did eventually come to agree with his idea of isolating himself in order to not make things worse for Vanilla nor cause anyone else to catch it - at least until they find some sort of way to prevent it on either end.

But just because Big is isolated physically, that doesn’t mean that he is completely unaware of the current goings-on of his friends! Both through the little bit of the old hivemind from before the demise of Black Doom that the three of them maintain for themselves and in person conversations, Big has been keeping in contact with Tsunami and Amy in order to keep up to date on things. The two of them are honestly quite lucky, all things considered, as neither of them have any capacity for assimilation as a ghost with no corporal form and a naturally born hybrid that is more mobian than black arms respectively, while also being black arms enough to not be affected by being exposed to a full-on black arms like Big. With that privilege, they’re not only able to talk to Big, but also everyone else - resulting in them becoming something of middlemen for whenever Big has something to say to the other Freedom Fighters, or vice versa.

Through this, Big has learned that while any request to G.U.N for assistance was immediately rejected due to their currently very rocky relationship with the Freedom Fighters, there is someone out there willing to try their hand at remedying the situation - that being an old friend of Amy’s named Coral. Coral lives in the underwater city of Meropis, or more accurately, she lives in a temple just outside the city - one that she obtained through her job as the city’s priestess. As priestess, she is quite familiar with magic and alike, and with chaos energy, especially given the fact that her matron goddess is Lady Chaos, and as a citizen of Meropis, she most certainly has at least some knowledge of the Black Arms assimilation outbreak that occurred in the city just a bit over a century ago in the early 1900s, which was dubbed by them as “The Divine Sickness”. These two factors combined to make her a very valuable candidate to possibly cure Vanilla, or at the very least halt the progress of the assimilation spreading throughout her body.

Admittedly, when Tsunami had mentioned the “Divine Sickness” outbreak, it made Big feel a bit nostalgic. Of course, he disliked the situation as a whole and most certainly its outcome, feeling terrible for those who had been exiled by the rulers of the city at the time due to something so completely out of their control. It was more nostalgia for the timeframe when it had happened. Big, back then still going by his given name of ‘Black Onyx’, had just reached maturity at the time, still in the month-long or so period of time between leaving his pod and beginning his training. He was innocent and naive, listening in awe to the various tales of his brethren that he would hear over the hivemind, not knowing the true horrors of them. He even at one point during his training years met the very young man who had been responsible for the whole event, that being a black assassin named Desiev. He was incredibly charismatic and a bit of a jokester, but what always stuck around in Big’s memory about him the most was that he quite honestly did feel bad for the people of Meropis that he affected. He hadn’t planned for an outbreak to occur, he was just on a field trip to Aerth as a part of his training to become a planetary investigator and got wrapped up in some young love with an octopus mobian. The conversation Big had that day with Desiev was what made him start to consider if there could perhaps be another way of doing things for the Black Arms in the first place.

As for the present day, after some discussion between Coral, the royal family of Meropis, and the Freedom Fighters had been made, the three parties came to an agreement. Vanilla would go live with Coral until she gets better. Hopefully she will.

In fact, it is on this very day that Vanilla is going to be taken to Meropis! Oh how Big wished that he could be there to see her off. But of course, he’s still isolating, so instead, he wrote her a farewell/get well soon letter that he gave to Amy to send to her, hoping that she gets to receive it as he casts his line.

Some time passes, and Big is still at the river’s edge, fishing. He hasn’t caught anything just yet, but he refuses to let that get him down. He hopes that the Freedom Fighters hold onto such a mindset as well, not letting the various setbacks that have occurred stop them from continuing to fight for peace on Aerth. It is with that thought that it occurs to him that the reason for why he has not caught any fish yet might just be that he keeps getting lost in thought.

“Oh well! That’s life, isn’t it?” He says to himself and continues on.

But just as he intends to readjust his focus on fishing and prepare to cast his line again, he notices something rather odd in the water - or more specifically, something odd in the water’s reflection.

Looking up to see if it is also in the sky, Big realizes that what it is that he sees is, in fact, a spaceship.

The first thought that enters his mind is that the ship is full of his brethren, having finally noticed after just about a dozen years that he ran away from his responsibilities back home and are intending to take him back there. But Big quickly realizes just how irrational that is, remembering that nowadays the Black Arms have been nearly completely wiped from existence, the only few still alive already living on Aerth. After taking some time to have a second thought, Big remembers overhearing about Tails’ family being a part of the ‘Mystic Fox Armada’, a group that has existed since before mobians came to Aerth with the mission of protecting the universe - at first specifically against the Black Arms - but becoming more broad as time went by. Maybe with all of the trouble that the Black Arms have been causing as of late, they’ve decided to swing by and give the Freedom Fighters a helping hand? That answer didn’t seem quite right either - as Big also remembered Tails describing the armada’s ships at one point, and they were apparently much more like aircrafts made by humans rather than spaceship-like. Before he got the chance to speculate further, a bright beam of light came down from the ship, blinding Big temporarily.

As the light faded, Big began to notice a subtle, yet eye-catching change in the scenery before him in the form of a pair of dark pink hibiscus flowers planted in the grass. Though at first glance they were still bulbs, both of the flowers very rapidly bloomed as Big continued to stare at them in curiosity, and then after they bloomed, their base seemed to grow taller - all in a matter of seconds. As the base began to change shape into something almost humanoid, that is when Big finally realized what it was that had appeared before him - and subsequently, to what the spaceship belonged.

A seedrian.

Finally, the seedrian in question had fully sprouted and detached from the ground, her features having formed as well, which made her quite recognizable to Big.

“Cosmo? What’re you doing here?” He asked as they locked eyes.

Instantaneously, Cosmo recoiled slightly and her face changed to one of embarrassment.

“Oh, h-hello Big! I didn’t know you were in this area. Sorry if I scared you, I know none of you have seen how I initially appear to new worlds - aside from Tails.” She greeted and apologized within the same breath.

“It’s no problem! I’ve seen worse!” Big remarked light-heartedly, hoping to calm Cosmo down. It seemed to work as intended, as she returned to a more confident stance, and the blush on her cheeks lessened. Though, after a moment, she began to look confused.

“Wait, really?” Cosmo wondered.

“... Do you not know?” Big hesitantly replied, thinking very carefully about his next words.

“Know what?” Cosmo inquired, tilting her head slightly.

Big thought long and hard about how he would respond to Cosmo, especially trying to take into account his less than perfect English.

“That I’m a Black Arms?” In the end, he went for the most blunt approach. The bluntness seemed to strike Cosmo fast and hard, leaving her with a stunned expression. But that expression only lasted for about a minute, before she began to giggle.

“Goodness me, how in the great galaxies did I never catch onto that?” Cosmo uttered in between laughs. “For crying out loud, you’re as tall as the average black warrior!” She continued, teasingly. “Granted, you’re not much taller than I am, but still!”

“I am taller in my true form!” Big remarked.

“Really now? How much taller would you say that you are?” Cosmo quiered, sitting down on the grass next to Big.

“About four more feet than I am now!” Big answered. “I was a black oak!”

“Oh my!” Cosmo reacted. “Though, if I may ask, if you have reduced your height by that much already, why not go even smaller and match the height of an average mobian?”

“It takes a lotta energy to be small. Energy I don’t have much of.” Big admitted.

“Do you have Chaos Energy Deregulation Disorder?” Cosmo asked right after Big had finished speaking. Big tilted his head in confusion. “CEDD? Or, wait, wouldn’t it be KEDD-?” Cosmo reiterated, trailing off into her own thoughts at the end.

“Oh! Yeah. A mild case.” Big replied. “I think they use both acronyms, since most Black Arms know a language that spells ‘chaos’ with a c. I forgot what it stood for.” He explained.

“Well either way, it must be a shame being confined to a mission you can never really complete - with the Black Arms now so few and all.” Cosmo assumed, catching Big’s attention.

“Oh, no. I’m rogue.” He corrected her.

“Oh! My mistake.” Cosmo responded. “May I ask why?”

“I like being on Aerth,” Big began. “I like how nice and kind and pretty it is here. But I don’t like how violent and mean the Black Arms were. That’s why I stayed here instead!” He did his best to explain, internally lamenting that his amaetur English skills made it so that some of the nuance of his thoughts were lost.

“Well, I really can’t blame you for feeling that way…” Cosmo remarked, sounding a bit somber. “I’m not much for violence myself either. After all, it was because of the violent actions of the Metarex and later the Multi-Galactic Unity Council that Green Gate has been in such disarray for almost a decade now…” She lamented.

“What happened?” Big asked.

“You know that us seedrians were originally created by the Black Arms for a mission that never came to be, right?” Cosmo asked.

Big nodded.

“Good, and you remember that after it was made clear that the mission wasn’t going to happen, that Lord Doom granted us seedrians independence but we stayed allies?” Cosmo continued to quiz Big.

Big nodded again.

“Okay, so, one of the last planets the Black Arms raided before attempting to invade Aerth was the one that the Metarex lived on. Being the prideful bunch they were, the vast majority of them refused to abide by the Black Arms’ ways of chaos - so they were massacred. Though, unlike most of those types, some of the Metarex still survived. In fact, enough of them had survived to form a small army that decided to invade Green Gate and attack us as ‘revenge’ against the Black Arms, having somehow found out about our secret allyship,” Cosmo began to explain. “With the allyship being secret to everyone else still, however, our prime minister at the time, Cherry Blossom, wanted to have those remaining Metarex charged with having committed a war crime. The case had reached the court of the Multi-Galactic Unity Council, and everyone had been on Cherry Blossom’s side at first… But…” Cosmo paused for a moment to wipe away some tears that had begun to form and re-composed herself. “Evidence of Cherry Blossom continuing to ally herself and even do work for Lord Doom and the Black Arms had reached… one of the members of the council, and since the trial had occurred shortly after Lord Doom’s demise, the council decided to be petty and charge Cherry Blossom with his crimes as well, since they ‘never got the pleasure of punishing him for them’, condemning her to execution… We still don’t have a new prime minister to this day. Cherry Blossom was the only one we had ever known, and we were too messed up from the Metarex attack to find a suitable replacement, especially since her right hand woman had disappeared around the time of Cherry’s sentencing.” She finally concluded.

“I’m sorry all that happened…” Big did his best to console her, hoping that the words he had were enough to convey his immense sympathy for Cosmo’s situation.

“I’m just so… tired of the instability we’ve been forced to face, ya know? And we couldn’t even fall back upon the Black Arms because they were and still are in an even worse spot than us! There’s also quite a few seedrians that even before the Metarex attack happened have been advocating for Green Gate to fully sever ties with the Black Arms, so the people that are technically left in charge who came to be eventually known as the Green Gate Restoration Effort vetoed the idea…” Cosmo vented. “That decision was made before I joined… And… I-I know it makes me look bad, b-but I have to disagree with it…” She then revealed, turning away from Big. “I-I know, I hate how violent their methods can get sometimes too! But I just want things to go back to normal!! A-And… Okay!! I feel bad for them too!! I know the pain of constant instability and the loss of a beloved leader all too well, and I can only begin to speculate how it feels to have lost so many of your brethren on top of it all!!” She tearfully admitted. “I just want everyone to be happy and okay!!” Big placed a hand on her shoulder, which seemed to quiet her down as well as slow her tears.

“I want everyone to be happy too.” He said to Cosmo. She turned around to face Big again and quickly flew herself into his fluffy chest, clearly signaling to him non-verbally that she wanted a hug - to which Big complied.

“I started keeping tabs on the few Black Arms that are left behind the rest of the restorators’ backs… It was originally just to see if they were doing alright, but at some point I just… Caved. I knew we both needed help to recover what we had lost, so I tapped into the Black Arms Hivemind to the best of my ability and asked them if I could possibly help them with anything with the hope that they’d help us seedrians in return… They told me about Amy being part Black Arms and that one of the surviving Black Arms was her half brother… And that he was trying to get in contact with her to convince her to join them… So I told Amy about the letter he had sent.” Cosmo confessed. “It’s not much for now, but it’s still a line crossed that I can’t go back on… And sometimes I’m not sure if I’m proud of it or not.” She finally pulled away from the hug she and Big were having.

“I… heard about that.” Big sheepishly replied. “... From Amy.”

“Oh, you’re probably helping the Freedom Fighters in all this then, aren’t you…?” Cosmo awkwardly surmised.

“Mhm…” Big confirmed. “Sometimes they aren’t the nicest either, even mean enough to feel like home. I know how it feels to work with people you don’t agree with.” He added, which caused Cosmo’s eyes to widen.

“Really…?” Cosmo questioned.

“... Yup. That’s why I’m trying to stay out of it, really. That and not wanting to hurt anyone.” Big elaborated.

“... That does kinda make me feel better about what I’m doing, honestly.” Cosmo stated. “Though I certainly envy your ability to just avoid it all together… As much as I want to, I can’t. Not when my world is in such dire need…”

“... I hope this isn’t a bad question, but how does Tails feel about what you’re doing?” Big inquired after a little bit of silence, feeling a bit of guilt that only got worse as he saw Cosmo start to look more upset.

“They… They’re not a fan…” Cosmo muttered.

“I could’ve guessed that… Sorry that I asked.” Big replied, trying to do whatever he could to help Cosmo feel better.

“No, it’s a fair question to ask, really,” Cosmo said reassuringly. “I know that Tails still loves me… For now, at least. But there is a part of me that worries what me trying to get help from the Black Arms will do to our relationship long term…” That’s when Big got an idea.

“Why don’t you ask Tails and their family for help with the stuff on Green Gate? I hear they’re really powerful!” Big suggested, placing a hand on Cosmo’s shoulder again.

“I did think of that, yes, but the Mystic Fox Armada is plenty aware of us seedrians’ ties back to the Black Arms, so I’d rather not mess with Tails’ standing with them any more than I already have by dating them… I… I also haven’t yet forgiven him for what he did to us…” Cosmo replied.

“Him?” Big echoed with confusion.

“... Tails’ dad. It was Tails’ dad who gave the evidence against Cherry Blossom during that trial…” Cosmo revealed with utter vitriol in her voice. “I don’t blame Tails for his actions, in fact, I feel they were taken advantage of in a sort of way, in fact - the fact that they were and still are dating me exploited in order to sentence the prime minister of my world to death. But I still hate their father. And I don’t hate people often.” She elaborated with just as much rage. “... He was the one who put us in this turmoil, why would he ever help us out of it?” She finally concluded, having calmed down slightly.

“... Maybe someone else in that place would be able to help? Maybe it can just be Tails themself who helps you?” Big advised.

“... Would they even be willing to do that? They have so many other responsibilities with being a Freedom Fighter, and their role as the sole heir to the Mystic Fox Armada, and their inventions under the Twin-Tail Electronics brand… I’d hate to put more stress on them…” Cosmo wondered.

“Tails would have a better answer to that than me, I think.” Big pointed out. “You should talk to them!”

“Yeah… Maybe I should.” Cosmo realized, her eyes widening and her tears finally fading fully. “Would you like to come with me? Moral support and all.”

“Sorry, I can’t. I don’t hang out with the Freedom Fighters in person much anymore… I may be rogue, but I can still…” Big seemingly didn’t have to finish the sentence for Cosmo to understand what he was getting at.

“Oh, right… That’s alright! Thank you for the help regardless.” Cosmo said to him with a kind smile. Though, that smile suddenly changed into a face suggesting that Cosmo had just remembered something she had forgotten. “By the way, where is the Sky Patrol right now? Do you know?”

“They’re likely near the Merop Sea! They’re bringing Ms.Vanilla there today!” Big told her.

“Ah… A nice trip to the beach…!” Cosmo remarked dreamily. “Thank you again, Big!” She then said before beginning her way out of the Mystic Ruins.

“Do you have money for the train?” Big suddenly asked just before Cosmo left earshot range.

“Yep! Thanks for checking in though!” Cosmo responded.

And so Big then returned to his regular ol’ fishing.

“You know, Froggy, I wish more people would just talk about things.” Big eventually spoke. “Maybe a world where everyone just talks and gets along is what ‘paradise’ really is.” He speculated.

Froggy croaked in response.

“Trust me, Froggy. I’d really like to make Aerth that paradise!” Big replied. “I just… wish I knew how to make others see my point of view!”

#the era of shadow #teos #writing tag #sonic au #mod aik

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pin-crusher2000 · 1 year ago

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Character files 001: Jacob Grayson

FireWing is a young vigilante/superhero who is also the son of Nightwing & StarFire plus the twin brother of NightStar. He is also the co-leader of the superhero group: Young Titans.

Appearance: a young man with tan white skin (a slight orange tan due to his mom) human green eyes (that glows fully green light when using powers and/or angry) & black hair that has a little of bright red hair dye.

Outfit: a purple & white version of nightwings outfit but the blue bird is a white flame/he has a Nightwing version where the blue bird is a flame design.

Personality: laidback, goofy, serious, a good sport like his dad and kind, sensitive, & emotional like his mom.

Powers: FireWing has half tamaranean dna, which means he can absorb solar radiation that allows him to fly, gain super abilities like strength & speed, and due to his mothers, is able to shoot out fireballs called StarBolts in forms of balls, energy waves, & a flamethrower move. (In case you’re wondering, yes he can & will light his farts on fire 😂 extra fun fact)

Trivia/Fun Facts:

Knows how to juggle; his dad taught him.

He has special type of escrima sticks that allows him to channel his starbolt energy into to create energy constructs like swords or axes, he can also use it like a laser beam gun by pointing the tip at something & firing it like a pistol both non-lethally & lethally, he can also use it as a torch to see in the dark.

Loves to play basketball 🏀 he is also on a team at his school.

His favorite heroes are: his parents, twin sister, the teen titans (both his father’s version & Red Robin’s) & Superman.

In my universe: FireWing & his sister NightStar are ancient descendants of the goddess X’Hal, which means they possess the ability to have a transformation ability: they gain sharp cat teeth & fingernails with spiky & bright hair like in anime with glowing eyes, there are three different levels: green, red/orange, & purple. (Along with their starbolt colors) their mom & aunt does not have this ability due to…..reasons lol

One more thing: in the comics they would leave like a flame/light trail from their hair when the fly, in my universe it only happens when they are in their transformation state.

#jake grayson #mari grayson #youngtitans #starfire

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themetalmenace · 1 month ago

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RZ-3 in DnD Terms

Strength: ⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

RZ has done some impressive feats in isolation (eg kick a Cabal Valus' helmet off its head) but is generally average when compared to other Lightbearers.

Dexterity: ⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

RZ's dexterity would be higher if he wasn't so impatient. He excels at parkour, rock climbing, and martial arts - and has been found in some odd places due to his ability to get anywhere - but would rather fall down a cliff than rappel it.

Constitution: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

RZ is an Exo built for deep space (which has extreme temps, high pressure and radiation), so he can withstand just about anything. He has even withstood Titan melees in Crucible before (albeit just barely).

Intelligence: ⭐️⭐️/5

RZ may be a "smart" AI, but he has the impulse and critical thinking skills of an orange cat. He *can* be very intelligent when he focuses, but there is rarely anything to warrant that sort of attention/energy level.

Wisdom: ⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

RZ is naturally perceptive and has caught onto things that others have missed (eg Savathûn as Osiris)- this is partly why people like Mara and Savathûn are drawn to him. But just like with his intelligence, laziness gets in the way.

Charisma: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

This rating may change over time.

Most people seem to enjoy RZ's presence, and before the death of the Witness, his "customer service voice" was impeccable [to the point where Mara didn't realize he disliked her]. Now however, he is a bit more open with his public-facing thoughts and emotions, so time will tell if his old reputation holds up.

#RZ's ramblings #(curious to see if this makes y'all like him more or less. lol)

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the-dye-stained-socialite · 1 year ago

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@fallenlondonficswap @thedeafprophet a little gift for Prophet as part of the group gift exchange! Alex's Insomnia. Alex/Fires, general rating, 758 words, insomnia and fluff

As Alex stepped into his apartment, the reflective silver of his mirror rippled, then settled once more into solid glass. His tail was left behind in reflection, his ears returned to human shape, and the almost-warmth of the Cosmogone Sun faded behind him. The persistent sense of bone-deep exhaustion, forcibly held back by a stubborn awakeness, did not. It had, in fact, been tormenting him for days. Nights. An unpleasant period of time.The irony of one who guided and guarded dreamers being unable to sleep was not lost on him.

Maybe it would be easier if it weren't so bloody cold, he thought. Alex sighed, and removed his spectacles, moving through the door and into his bedroom.It was so much harder to fall asleep when it was cold, and winter in the Neath had a special way of leeching the heat from one's bones. Lacre had only begun to appear just last week, and the temperature plummeted with it.

When he entered, it seemed as though his bedroom was somehow multiple degrees colder than the rest of his apartment. Maybe it was the outside walls? Maybe it was the thin pane windows? Or maybe it was the lack of… ugh, no. He was not going to think of that. Instead, he'd light the Firesplace.

Between nightmares, wounds, and the cold, sleep had become a rare luxury. The closest thing he could usually get nowadays was a trip into Parabola to help others get a restful night. In the Is though, he would normally attempt to exhaust himself by planning out further heists, but all of those plans had been finished a night ago. Besides, he had neither mind nor energy to spend on that tonight. So to a different, warmer solution it was.

Alex set his glasses on his nightstand. Searched around for his matches. Searched around for tinder. Found an unanswered invitation to a long-past party (a whole 1899 ago) and figured it would do. He rubbed at an eye idly. His head felt like it was full of wool.

He didn't remember lighting the fire, nor laying down on his rug, but when his attention snapped back to the present, there he was. Sideways, curled up under his cloak, and staring at the fire for long it had burned afterimages onto his retinas.

But what had gotten his attention?

"Alexander, what are you doing?"

Huh, he really was tired if he had managed to miss the enormous Master of coal shoving itself into his room. That was actually rather concerning. Maybe he should set up-

"I repeat, what are you doing?" It leaned down to tower over him, gaze alone radiating more heat than his pitiful fireplace would.

Alex was conscious enough to suppress a whimper, but not conscious enough to not have needed to in the first place. Surely his exhaustion showed? "I'm trying-" He paused to shift upwards on an arm, "to get to sleep. It was nearly working before you broke into my home."

Impressively, he managed to miss exactly what happened next. He could have sworn Fires had scooped him up in a tangled cocoon of cloaks, compared him to a cat, and carried him over to his bed, but he wasn't certain. Regardless, Fire's greatest annoyance found himself laying on top of it. Furthermore, it had apparently unbuttoned its cloak, revealing a bright orange ruff, and the softest chest fur he had ever felt. Alex was immediately enamored, and stuffed his hands as far deep into that fur as was physically possible.

Oh, and it was incredibly warm, and the fur kept him so pleasantly insulated. It reminded him of a freshly baked pastry. Heat soaked into his every muscle and joint, soothing and relaxing him. Fires laughed a quiet chuckle when Alex began to knead its ruff. He was too close to be self conscious. It was incredibly hard to resist when he was melting into sleep.

"Get some rest, little Lyon."

And finally, surrounded by softness and heat, the Silverer managed his first night of sleep that week.

Fires would not stay until morning. It would leave an hour before the workday would begin, and several hours before Alex would awaken, finding himself wrapped in blankets. But it would stay until well past him entering deep sleep, original intentions for its visit long discarded.

They could argue another day.

#fallen london #fics #others ocs #dye stained fics #alex hastings #mr fires #i will rb w/ an ao3 link later!

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backupanddoitagain · 2 years ago

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Independent Claws

Summary: You are lost in a cycle of avoidance caused by a painful past. Peter shepherds you towards a happier future.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader; written as mostly Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Alcoholism (mention), Hurt/Comfort, Language, Mature situations, etc, etc Minors DNI

*Reblogs, reblogs, reblogs, and likes are great. Please do not post, copy or transfer to other sites on social media or use with AI.*

Chapter One: Tense

Your skin appears orange under the glow of the street lamps as you chain the rusty bicycle to the fence railing and tread softly down the street. A mental image of black gloves, left sitting on a desk back home, taunts the only part of you uncovered. "Idiot," you mutter to yourself, looking down at your hands, balling them into fists. It isn't the weather for which the gloves are necessary, although your breath frosts in the night air. You need stealth. But at least the navy blue hoodie, t-shirt, and pants are dark so you keep on walking, head down, going over your plan in your mind. Going over it and over it as you had done ever since this afternoon when the devil of opportunity presented himself and then your stupid angel conscience sent by your late mother decided to make an appearance to even the score.

--------------------

You had been watching and crushing on Peter Parker since forever, and he often wore sweaters and hoodies back in high school, but over the last few years he seemed to grow warm so quickly and shed them as if he radiated thermal energy beyond what was normal. On the first day when he made eye contact, you'd given him a shy nod of recognition in the college class you shared, surprised he had even remembered the green-eyed classmate from long ago who hugged the walls and lockers always looking for a place to hide, to avoid interaction.

As the semester continued, you tried desperately to remain inconspicuous, unapproachable, but still watching him, wide eyed like a cat in the darkness under a bed. Peering up through your fingers while taking notes in class as he pulled a sweater over his head, watching his thick brown hair go awry and stand up as if he was touching a Van de Graaf Generator at the science museum. Yeah, it shocked you too because sometimes his t-shirt would ride up higher and made your own neck hairs stand up as straight as his hair. But the hoodies, Peter wore those hoodies the most often. They looked so soft, so touchable and when you heard the faint but crisp ziiiiip as he ran his hand down the front and shook his arms out of the sleeves it always made your head turn. Not too fast though. You had learned to be careful. Once, hearing the familiar sound you flicked your eyes up when he removed his navy blue hoodie, which happened to be your personal favorite hoodie, and caught his brown eyes staring straight at you. That was when you dropped your pen just so you could duck to the tile floor, missing his smirk and lifted eyebrow as he shrugged the hoodie over the back of his chair.

The disrobing, as you mentally termed it, became a regular habit and made worse by the quieter nature of the calculus course compared to the mayhem of high school. No class clowns making noise, no troublemakers. Just students watching the professor while taking notes, and you, despite the mental scolding you gave yourself, watching Peter. Any notes you took on him were seared to the back of your eyelids. You rarely spotted him outside of class, even though you had grown up not too far away from his street and you tried very hard not to see him outside of class anyway. What point was there to extend your martyrdom outside of the hour you spent within four walls? You were more than a little ashamed of yourself already. The devil on your shoulder often smiled and said just a little more time when you gazed at Peter's left ear and the brown hair that curled temptingly around it; but the angel on your right gave you that sad somber look that made it clear Peter Parker wasn't for the likes of you. Not when he had been in love with Gwen, who was an angel on earth and now an angel in heaven, and not now, with your feral attitude and your heart hardened against anyone who might try and lure you to comfort and safety. That was what that hoodie symbolized if you'd bothered to analyze it. Maybe you were aware of that in some remote way, but it was like the craft store heart-shaped cardboard box you had painted for your mother when you were a child. You kept those thoughts hidden away in a part of you that hurt too much to look at. Just like that paper scrap and photo filled box, the only thing you’d kept of your mom after she passed away. You couldn't touch either where you'd hidden them; you couldn't look at them, it kept everything remote and cold and manageable.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it was your mother sending an angel friend that placed the opportunity before you, although you scarcely believed in heaven, not anymore. Or maybe there was some cosmic electric charge that rearranged and short circuited Peter's brain so that he left the hoodie, the navy blue one, resting on the back of his chair when the class ended. You didn't notice at first, you were staring at the back of his head as he walked toward the door along with everyone else, while you were busy memorizing the muscles that ran across his shoulders. Shoulders and biceps that you just then realized you could see as his short t-shirt sleeves pulled tight across them. But most likely it was that wild devil that forced your eyes to cut to Peter's vacated chair and there was the hoodie, forgotten. A quick glance to the door of the classroom revealed he had disappeared.

Without a word, you snatched the hoodie to your chest and left quickly, searching around the building exit for Peter but with no sign of him, the choice was made with no regret. You scurried silently down the hallway and went straight into the restroom where you stuffed the hoodie into your backpack. Five minutes later you were on your bicycle pedaling home with a hoodie, a backpack, and a devil of a grin on your face.

--------------------

Home is where you should be right now, not in the shadows creeping down an alley by Peter Parker's house in an attempt to do the right thing. After sitting in your upstairs room while your dad was somewhere out drinking himself into a bitter and vengeful stupor, you had lost the battle with your conscience. Your dad's worldview had always been finders keep, losers weep. Even if he was never around any more now than he was when your mom got sick, somehow he hadn't been quite able to make his the world owes you something kid type of logic stick with you either, another disappointment that he never failed to point out.

No matter how you tried to justify it, no matter how much you wanted just some thing to hold, to wrap around you, never mind some one, you could not keep what was never yours. Stupid old hoodie you told yourself as you put your arms on your knees and breathed in the essence of Peter in the soft fabric. That scent almost broke you... almost. It felt like what home could be when there were warm hearts and hands that comfort each other. When tired eyes were allowed to close because there was no need for a wild-eyed wakefulness that danger downstairs had crossed the threshold drunk and delirious. That thought, the thought of a different disappointment, that the example of how to do the right thing had been forgotten was why you were tiptoeing past a run down garage to reach an old beat up car so that you could return Peter's hoodie. It may have been a stupid plan by someone who couldn't seem to muster the courage just to hand it to Peter the next time class met, but then again it was academic not emotional intelligence that was supposed to be your asset anyway. Your intelligence being the academic asset that was to get you a degree and take you far away from the warm memories and cold reality. Far away from watching what the one you could never have. At least that is what you told yourself as you stopped at Aunt May's car. You had only met her a few times, crossing paths at the store, picking up medicine for your mother. May had asked after her and your look of surprise at her knowledge didn't go unnoticed but her eyes were soft and kind, not unlike Peter's.

The lights were on in their house; maybe in the kitchen and an upstairs bedroom. You were confident from years of climbing up and down stairs silently in your own home that none of the neighbors had heard you in the alley, and perhaps that made you careless. The plan was to leave the hoodie in Aunt May's car, a place where anyone might forget a hoodie. Since the car was an older model it probably didn't have an alarm, at least you hoped it didn't. You also hoped it wasn't locked, but that hadn't occurred to you until just now. Too late. You stood there for a minute, just a minute; the brief thrill of having the coveted hoodie and its symbolic aura now fading as you pulled back the hood and tugged the zipper down, not thinking about the ziiiiip.

One last soothing stroke of the soft fabric and the hoodie was in your hand, ready to toss in the front seat. One tug on the driver's side handle and whew, it wasn't locked when...

"In the future, if you're going to steal cars, you really shouldn't dress like a car thief."

Out of the shadows stepped Spider-Man.

Shit. You are in trouble.

To be continued...

A/N: Please let me know if I left off any warnings you think would better serve readers.

#tasm #peter parker #amazing spider-man #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm fanfiction #spider-man #tasm!peter #Peter parker fem!reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #Independent Claws

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