#his egg is cracking as he finally goes after the one piece?

[suguruuuuu-chan]

The giant egg on the Oro was a metaphor for Shanks and Buggy btw

[roosterbruiser]

would you perhaps be able to do “please talk to me” from the angst list with bradley?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

when Rooster wakes up, he doesn't get even one moment of normalcy. usually when he wakes up beside your sprawled figure, he peppers your shoulders with lazy kisses. then slink out of bed, brushes his teeth, slips into his tennis shoes, and goes for a run down the shoreline. sometimes he even watches the sunrise there, panting, taking an earbud out to hear the gulls caw. sometimes he'll even grab smoothies for the both of you on his way home, and hop in the shower as you finally woke up, lips wrapped half-heartedly around a neon straw.

but you're not in bed when his eyes flicker open for the first time today. your side of the bed is crumpled, cold. you've been out of bed for a while.

the morning light is gray--not an early morning gray, but an endless slate. one that means rain, probably.

he glances at the clock, head muddled from his deep sleep, and sees that it's almost 11am. he sits up, brows furrowed, and feels that hollowness grow inside of him immediately. it's like a jolt--something that infects wholly and completely immediately.

oh. his body is reminding him.

today is November 7th.

how could he forget?

instead of jumping out of bed like he usually does, which is a habit he vaguely remembers his father having, he allows his shoulders to slump and his chest deflate. he sinks back into the covers, feels his eyes grow heavy, and pulls the blankets up beneath his chin.

there are two days of the year that Bradley lets himself stay in bed all day: July 29th and today. the anniversary of both of his parents deaths.

you're trying to balance this goddamn tray of food as you walk up the stairs in your monkey slippers, cursing yourself for settling so many beverages on here. does Bradley really need three choices?

whatever, you think. he'll have his pick of the litter at least.

the bedroom door is cracked just enough for you to carefully back your elbow into--just enough for you to step into the room in near-silence except for the shivering glass on the metal tray in your hands.

honestly, you're expecting Bradley to be asleep still. he slept in on that hot day in July, didn't say much at all, just pressed his face against your belly and let M*A*S*H reruns play all day. after, you'd felt guilty; you hadn't done much to make him feel better, stupefied from being this close to such palpable grief. your only prerogative was being there for him, which is how you ended up staying beneath the sheets despite the heat.

but you find Rooster's knit brows and glossy eyes immediately. in your spot in the doorway, you freeze, then grin.

"well, good morning, merry sunshine!" you say softly. "how'd you sleep?"

Bradley's just staring at you, eyes moving from the tray and back up to your wanton gaze as he slowly begins to sit up against the headboard.

"fine," he tells you.

"thought you'd still be asleep," you tell him, shuffling to the bedside carefully. "hope I didn't leave you waiting too long! and I hope you're hungry, 'cause I made a little bit of everything."

Rooster, stunned, just watches you with his hands in his lap. you're wearing his class t-shirt from high school and an old pair of cotton underwear, your eyes bleary and your hair untouched. but all the same, you're grinning at him, nodding for him to move his hands from his lap.

"for your drink selection, we've got coffee, orange juice, and a strawnana smoothie--if you're feeling frisky. for our meats we've got turkey bacon, Impossible Sausage, regular bacon, and--well, are eggs meat? no, right? okay, moving on," you say, shrugging as you point to all the foods as you list. "then we've got scrambled eggs--lots of cheddar cheese and no sage this time, okay? I won't do that ever again, baby, I promise!" you press a lewd and sweet kiss to his forehead before continuing. "and then we've got two pieces of French toast with maple syrup--like that healthy kind you like, the one that gets, like, milked from the trees or whatever. we've also got a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with the sprinkles I know you like but you won't admit it, so we'll say that I like sprinkles in my pancakes! and then the usual suspects--grapefruit, cinnamon oatmeal, sliced apples, grits. pick your poison!"

and that is when Bradley suddenly lets his head tip forward, tears spurring from his eyes suddenly as if a spice had been broken.

oh fuck. this isn't what you meant to happen.

"baby?" you ask tentatively, holding the back of his head with a frown planted on your lips. "I was just kidding about the sprinkles."

with his face angled down, he can see those stupid monkey slippers on your feet. he can see the eggs you made just right, leaving out the sage you sometimes like to sneak in. he can see the different beverages and the rainbow sprinkles. he can even see the sly nibble you took out of his French toast.

he is totally and completely overwhelmed--but it isn't by grief right now. it's love. love and affection and honey and everything else in the world that is sweet and perfect.

"talk to me, baby," you whisper, shuffling to move the tray from his lap and sitting on the bed. he immediately lets his face fall on your shoulder, choking on his sobs. "please."

November 7th was the worst day of his life--one of them, at least. it was when his mother let go, moved on, left him behind. he remembers how peaceful it was when she was gone: all the monitors turned off, the IV drips empty, her face slacked and serene. and he remembers being so angry about it all--why did she have to go to be okay again?

but now it's November 7th and he's eating breakfast in bed and you're in your monkey slippers and those old panties and stroking his hair. he feels entirely swollen with it--love.

"I love you so much," he tells you, unable to put it any differently. "and I really do like sprinkles in my pancakes."

the knot in your throat dissipates at his words. you never push him to talk about his grief--only nurture it when he trusts you enough to speak on it.

so, you kiss his head a few times, hold him against you.

"that was really brave of you to admit," you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips.

he laughs through his tears, sniffling, tracing your spine with his fingers delicately.

"I know," he sniffles. not so subtly, he wipes his nose on your tee. you don't mind it one bit. "you're my best friend."

"me?" you whisper, voice thin with emotion. but you know that you can't start crying, too. so, you clear your throat. "you must be a real loser then."

he laughs weakly, inhaling all that sleep on your skin.

"yeah," he agrees. "I must."

[shootingstarpilot]

In Which Obi-Wan Meets Stitch Properly

Happy Friday! Today's been A Day, so to make myself feel better, I wrote a lil scene referenced in Chapter 11 of how to bring him home:

Stupid.

It wasn’t even during a battle. Not on the ground, where the noise is everywhere all the time and where he tucks himself back and away and pulls on ‘81 for a bit, because ‘81 knows not to flinch at loud noises and or tap his fingers and Stitch can keep being a good medic while ‘81 takes the brunt of the noise and the darkness and everything else.

It’s effective. ‘81 had gotten him out of Kamino. ‘81 keeps him and his brothers alive on the battlefield. But being ‘81 is exhausting. So he stops being ‘81 on the ship once he realizes he doesn’t have to be. Because no one tells him that he’s tapping too much or talking too fast or being too stupid, and he can walk up to Helix or Needle and ask for a hug and get one.

(‘81 doesn’t get hugs.)

So he’s not prepared at all when he wanders into the engineering bay just in time for the sharp snap of a backfiring engine to crack his brain open like an egg.

He backpedals instinctively, all thoughts of routine physicals dropped along with his composure on the engineering bay’s floor, and the whole world goes snapshot-blurry. 

Boots skidding across the floor.

A door that won’t open.

His own breathing, too loud.

A door that won’t open.

His own heartbeat, too fast.

A door that won’t open.

Voices approaching–

And then, finally, a door that does.

He flings himself in– glimpses a bucket, a mop, cleaning supplies– yanks the door shut behind him, and tries to fold down onto the floor. If his head’s between his knees, then that’s a few more layers between him and everything that’s too loud. But the engine’s vibrations tear all the way through him and splinter him all apart into a hundred thousand million tiny pieces–

He tries to back into a corner but the vibrations are in the walls too and hit right behind his shoulder blades–

He skitters into the middle of the room but the noise sneaks in through his feet and crawls all the way up and empties him out until there’s no room for shame or embarrassment or anything of himself at all, so he stands in the middle of the room with his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut and tries to pretend he doesn’t have feet because eventually things go quiet again, they do, it’s just a question of how long it takes and how much of him gets peeled away in the meantime–

A different kind of quiet settles over him.

Not the raw type of quiet that usually arrives after the noise has worn itself out.

This is a solid quiet. As if someone has built a wall between him and the noise and has told it very sternly to stay out. 

The vibrating roar of the engines has dulled into an almost imperceptible hum. Like how it should be. 

He can’t hear his hammering heartbeat anymore, and his breathing is comfortably muffled.

He pries his eyes open carefully, in case someone actually managed to put a blanket over his head.

No one has. 

But there’s a blanket on the floor in front of him. 

He bends down and picks it up.

It’s brown. Brown is a quiet color. And it feels nice on his hands. 

He considers it for a moment, and then drapes it carefully over his head.

Oh. That’s much better.

In the dark and quiet, he has enough room to breathe properly.

And as he works on that, a slow, simmering shame begins to kindle uncomfortably behind his ribs.

That–

That wasn’t good.

The last time he’d let that happen had been on Kamino. An alarm had gone off in the barracks. A false alarm– the announcement came over the comms, calling off evacuation protocols– but the shrieking whine hadn’t shut up, and Stitch hadn’t been very big then so he’d opened his mouth to drown it out himself, and then Fractal had tackled him and dragged him under the bunk and pressed his face into his shirt so he could scream quietly and he’d squeezed him tight enough to force out all the noise that was trying to fill him up and–

He cuts the rest of that thought off, and breathes it out.

Then he breathes out the hiccups, and the ache behind his eyes, and the prickling numbness in his feet.

This time, when he peels the blanket off his head, the lights don’t hurt anymore.

He stares at the wall.

Then he shakes out the blanket, intending to fold it up, until he sees something that stops him short.

The blanket has a hood.

He stares.

Sleeves, too.

Then he remembers–

They don’t have brown blankets on the ship.

He looks down.

The thin line of light under the door is partially blocked.

Someone is sitting outside.

He looks again at the blanket-that-is-not-a-blanket.

At the blanket that is a cloak.

Clone troopers do not wear cloaks.

After a moment, he gives up on trying to fold it, and wraps it around his shoulders instead.

Helix says that General Kenobi can be trusted. Helix says to stay with General Kenobi because he brought troopers home safe. Helix says that General Kenobi stopped the decommissionings and that he wouldn’t ever send anyone back to Kamino, not even if they were– 

Not even if there was something really wrong with them.

(Helix says that General Kenobi is kind.)

Stitch takes a deep breath.

“We are learning,” he tells himself sternly, “how to be more than afraid.”

He opens the door before he can think better of it.

General Kenobi looks up.

Stitch hesitates before settling down cross-legged onto the floor next to him.

“Hello, sir.”

“Hello, Stitch.”

His voice is very gentle. Not loud at all.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, sir.”

Then, belatedly–

“How are you feeling?”

The General smiles, and Stitch relaxes. “Quite all right, Stitch. Thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly.

They sit in silence for a long moment until something occurs to him.

“Did you make it quiet?”

“I did.”

“Oh. How?”

“Nothing in your head, if that’s what you’re worried about,” General Kenobi says easily, and Stitch hastily remembers to worry about that and then remembers to be relieved that he doesn’t have to. “I have a friend who gets… overstimulated. Have you heard the term psychometry before?”

Stitch shakes his head.

“It is, in essence, the ability to read impressions by touch. Very useful, when used carefully, but occasionally he will glean something by accident, and sometimes those things are… overwhelming. We– myself and my friends– learned when we were much younger what would help. Creating a bubble of sorts would muffle other stimuli and give him time to reorient himself.”

He gives Stitch a sideways look, and says pointedly, “He’s quite the fierce fighter, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

Stitch ducks his head, feeling a burning flush crawl up the back of his neck.

“The– the bubble,” he says haltingly. “Did you– when you make it– with the Force?”

The General lets it slide. “I did.”

Stitch makes a face, and General Kenobi laughs.

He can’t help it. The Force doesn’t make sense, especially not General Kenobi’s, and it bothers him. Helix too, he knows. 

He doesn’t think it bothers Needle.

(But then again, he doesn’t think anything manages to bother Needle.)

The General shifts up onto his knees and closes his eyes, and the world–

Stitch doesn’t know how to describe it.

It settles back into place. Quietly. With no itching. And the noise makes sense again.

“Thank you,” he says, remembering, and really means it. “And– here–”

He pulls the cloak off his back and offers it up.

General Kenobi gives him a considering look.

“You could keep it, if you like,” he says. “I have more.”

“It’s not mine, sir.”

“What if I gave it to you?”

Stitch opens his mouth, and then pauses, scowling. Technically, it would be his, he knows, but not– not in the right way–

The weight vanishes from his hand. 

“You don’t have to,” General Kenobi informs him gently, slipping his arms into the sleeves. “It was just an offer. But thank you for giving it back.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“Would you like me to comm someone?”

“No thank you, sir.”

“All right,” the General accedes easily. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Please don’t be bleeding,” Stitch ventures, and feels immensely pleased with himself when General Kenobi lets out a sudden bark of laughter.

“I’ll try my best.”

Stitch stays sitting against the wall for some time after General Kenobi leaves.

Thinking.

It’s only when voices approach from down the hallway that he levers himself to his feet and makes his way back to the medbay.

One week later, Needle comes in with their deliveries from the recent requisitions order and gleefully informs Stitch that there is something in it for him.

Stitch, bewildered, accepts the package. 

After some unsubtle encouragement from Needle, he opens it carefully.

Headphones.

Good headphones.

And the tag–

The tag says his name.

They’re his. 

(Properly.)

Later, Stitch concludes that General Kenobi sees the whole galaxy the way Helix sees him.

He thinks that’s a lot of people to love quite so much.

[4sh-n4]

Bruce Wayne, who can't cook to save his life but can bake better than even Alfred. The catch? He can only do it in the night after being awoken by nightmares. No one knows about his extraordinary skills other than Alfred and Dick, because everyone assumes that the baked goods in the kitchen are made by Alfred. Dick knows because when he was younger and couldn't sleep because of nightmares, he used to join Bruce in the kitchen and watch him work.

Dick Grayson, who is an absolute disaster in the kitchen because he keeps getting distracted, but give him a microwave and a dream and he'll prepare a solid three course meal that actually tastes decent. He's also an excellent cocktail maker, which is funny since he prefers to have his alcohol straight without any mixers (he still puts the little umbrellas in his glass though, don't be mistaken)

Jason Todd, who is an ACE in the kitchen because he refused to ever be helpless with food again after getting off the streets. He was going to eat, and he was going to eat WELL. Especially since he finally had the resources to be able to actually experiment with what he likes and what he can do with different foods, instead of just what's cheapest or most easily found. The one thing he can't do? Crack an egg with only his hands without getting any of the eggshell pieces in the food. He needs to use one of those little egg cracking tools. The thing that pissed him off the most about this is that the one thing Dick can do brilliantly in the kitchen, is crack eggs with one (1!!!) hand only.

Tim Drake, who is definitely not michelin star level (the Drakes had a cook for Tim's entire childhood so he never had to learn), but has learnt to sustain himself with instant meals and those little ramen packets. He somehow always makes them taste good though, adding toppings and making sure they are some form of nourishing, even if that just means adding a fried egg on top and calling it a day. He also knows the difference between all the different little types of tea that alfred likes to drink just by taste, and is the only other person in the house that can make a perfect cup (that is Alfred approved). It always shocks everyone else, because Tim is notorious for hating the taste of tea.

Cass Cain, who has no culinary abilities and does not want them either. Her skills in the kitchen start and end with making sandwiches. But whenever she goes out to eat, she always goes to a chinese restaurant and gets something that she hasn't tried before, because she was never introduced to any foods of her culture and wants to taste them all now. Oh, and she can do super complicated tricks with the knives, her and Dick have constant competitions about who can do the coolest thing.

Steph Brown, who lives off of takeaway for most meals, but can make better breakfast foods than most people in the house. Waffles, pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, you name it and she can make it. Only if it is traditionally eaten before noon though. She also worked as a barista part time for a while, so she knows all the fancy coffee recipes.

Damian Al Ghul Wayne, who doesn't care to cook other cuisines, but taught himself how to make almost every middle eastern and south asian dish he could get his hands on, because it helped him feel closer to his home and his mother when he first moved in with his father. His fondest memories of his mother are of her feeding him his cultural foods and telling him about their origins. It was the only time they did not speak of work, or his training, but instead about what his father was like as a person, about the things his mother has seen on her travels over the years, about his maternal grandmother, about his interest in animals.

Duke Thomas, who can cook enough for a 15 year old but doesn't touch the kitchen of Wayne manor very often, not unless he's just sitting on the counter watching others or helping minorly. His memories are still fresh enough to bleed when touched and all his memories of him cooking in the kitchen have his parents happily dancing in the background on Sundays with loud music blaring through the walls as they teach him how to chop onions without crying or knead dough.

Alfred Pennyworth, who only had the most basic culinary skills when he began working for the Waynes, just enough to keep him alive when he was in the military, but was forced to learn how to cook when he was unexpectedly given custody of an 8 year old. He can cook better than most professional chefs in the world now, but he still hoards Thomas Wayne's old cookbooks like they're the only tangible part left of the man who once filled the halls of the manor, even though he knows that's not true. He'll pass them down to his grandchildren one day...just not today. Today, they're still his.

[dittolicous]

More on my One Piece x Pokemon train:

Sanji's Milotic is his Little Princess, even before she evolved. Daddy's little girl. Queen of doing no wrong. It's a good thing she's actually quite well-mannered and sweet, because he'd honestly let her get away with murder.

If her and Gyarados do ever have an egg, Zoro will have a fight to keep Sanji from turning Gyarados into sushi. For now, both are entirely unaware their Pokemon are mated.

Actually imagine one day she finally DOES, Sanji coming across her curled around an egg and losing his ever-loving-shit - immediately calls a crew meeting to find out who DEFLOWERED HIS PRECIOUS BABY GIRL, demanding to see every water type in her egg group (which lbr they wouldn't keep up with that so that would then devolve into a debate over egg grouping and pokemon breeding all while sanji is fuming). of course, except for zoro, everyone else knows who the father but is staying quiet either 1) for the lulz 2) to keep damages down or 3) isnt paying attention (aka luffy). this goes on for a while when suddenly

CRRK CRRK the egg begins to hatch! theres silence on the deck as the new baby burst free, sparkle sparkle sparkle sparkle

its a shiny fucking magikarp

sanjis neck cracks so loud from the speed he turns on zoro, steam pouring out his ears, chopper almost drags him to the infirmary just to check him out

he'd rather kick Zoro's ass

sends him flying off deck bcuz he was napping the entire time

here come the swords!

its mass chaos

poor franky is overworked

once things calm down it turns into a debate on who takes ownership of the magikarp, zoro n sanji feuding like bitter exes divorced thrice over determining custody time for lil timmy

(they end up leaving it in Momo's care as symbol of friendship - he takes very good care of them)

Luffy never just catches Pokemon. He's the Ash, his team is entirely composed of Pokemon that are like ‘his vibes are immaculate’ and join him. There are numerous Pokemon he considers ‘his’ or part of his crew strewn out across the seas, but he never caught them and they stayed behind for one reason or another.

For a good portion of his travels, he didn’t even actually catch them with Pokeballs. He only did so after Marineford, because having them in Pokeballs would've made things easier and safer for them. Still doesn't keep them put away often.

Sanji and Nami are scared of Bug Types, which made getting along with Zoro's Scythor and Usopp's Spinarak difficult at first. They got used to Sythor easier thanks to his less buggy nature, but Spinarak took time. This was not helped by Spinarak constantly trying to get chummy with them only to accidentally scare them.

One incident involved him pulling a Charlotte's Web in the gally, writing a compliment to Sanji in his web (Usopp taught him how to read and write because why not - bored island kids do whatever). Unfortunately, Sanji's horrified screams could probably be heard in Skypiea. Usopp spent hours cleaning all the webbing up and Sanji smoked about three packs that day.

They do eat Pokemon but it's less common compared to regular animals. There are debates that Pokemon just tend to not taste very good regardless of cooking skills, which lends itself to the idea that their powers are somehow connected to the ever nasty Devil Fruit.

Y'know that gag from Pokemon where Brock's own Pokemon would knock him around when he goes girl-crazy? Ya, that but Sanji. His team absolutely takes him down a peg when he gets too fuck-boy.

It's usually his Blaziken, who will just straight up knock him out and carry him away if need be

The only one who doesn't is Milotic and that's because Sanji is her baby just as much as she is his and she wuvs him too much. Spoils him, really

Usopp gets Robin one of those baby slings for her Houndour as a joke but they love it (she puts on matching sunglasses too so he can travel in style)

it's to the point that Chopper gets a little jealous so they have to get him one too

Usopp's Octillary is still a lil shit no matter how much he respects Usopp, so it's not uncommon for her to cover whoever happens to be nearby in either ink or water

her favorite victim is Sanji - she never did forgive him calling her scrawny (even tho it meant they wouldn't eat her)

All of Franky's Pokemon have a star painted or carved somewhere on their body. They like posing with him!

Franky does want a Blastoisite but they haven't had much luck finding one

Brook's Chatot picks up many, many phrases…. unfortunately he, much like Brook, favors the one asking to see panties - the only upside is that he asks everyone regardless of gender

Chatot is not allowed to talk to strangers for totally unrelated reasons

[jev-urisk]

Morreial's heist supplies: Tag Game ✨️

Original game by @thecomfywriter (Post HERE). Thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet!

Premise: Write your OC using these tools (from Ch. 18 of Throne of Vengeance) to commit a heist involving an armored vault. A piece of string, a lantern, oil, matches, a book, a cup, an enchanted shovel, and a pair of gloves. And, a navy blue Henley

Love, LOVE this prompt. It's perfect for Kazimier💋, my shapeshifting incubus OC from my WIP 🌐7 Circles🌐

It's kinda spoiler-y, because it goes over some of Kazimier's abilities and really shows the kind of bastard he is. You've been warned.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal. Kazimier smirks behind his drink, an appraising glint in his mismatched eyes. "You wanna know how I did it?" he teases. He knew you did, but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

"How did you steal it?"

He leans back, swirling his glass. "So the safe in this fancy hotel was owned by a Nexi couple, right? They shipped the damn thing down from Nexis years ago an' had it installed in their always-booked penthouse suite. I woulda' sacked it a decade ago but this safe has an arcane lock, capisce?"

You shake your head no, and he rolls his eyes.

"Magic technology, unpickable. An' the only way to open this particular lock is to touch their wedding rings to this weird circle on the front, yeah? So the first thing I do is track down a mediocre fairy lantern replica."

"Wait, what?" you can help uttering, and it earns you a scoff.

"What? It's not like faeries are real, an' if they were they'd appreciate how stupid some folks are over their alleged arda'facts. The husband was one such stupid folk, and after broadcastin' that someone on the black market found a new lantern, a few fake death threats, and a well-placed comment made by a poker dealer- I got him to agree to a meeting in a car. One of them fancy Nexi ones that comes with a driver an' I made sure the person at the wheel is one on my payroll. I arrive as a representative of the auction house, shapeshifted to look like a vampiress."

"Wait, so you-"

"Had tits, yes. Along with long brown hair, skinny ankles, and a pencil skirt shorter than your attention span."

You grimace, "I wasn't going to ask about you having, uh.."

"-AAAnnyway, the moment I set down my briefcase bag it starts leakin' a sleeping gas and I keep him distracted. Soon enough he's out like a light and I crack open the hollowed out copy of 'Auctions Uncatalogued: A Dry Fuckin' History Book' for a few supplies. I knew he was a thicc bastard, so I came prepared with some oil and string to get the ring off, as well as gloves to keep the guy's taste outta my brain."

"What does that mean??"

"I'm not gonna explain how to get little rings offa big fingers, bud. Ask the internet. OH, I also filched his shirt- a blue henley kinda' thing, and his slacks. The car keeps movin' and I use his weird-Nexi-phone to call his broad, who is very occupied in some high-stakes gambling and tell 'er using her husband's voice that I need her ring to make an exchange of some Nexan technology in the safe for the super legit fairy lamp some vampire just showed me. I shapeshift into the husband, put on his clothes, and am in and out of the casino without the broad suspecting a thing. She hands me the ring, I complain bitterly about her not spendin' enough time with me, she tells me not now and goes back to her gambling. Perfect marriage. An hour later I've exchanged their top-grade arcane technology for a dinky old lamp and am waitin' around for the wife to show up." Kazimier finishes, quirking his brow as he drinks some of his cocktail.

After a few moments it seems like he;s truly done, but it might be another instance of him leading you to egg him on. "Well what happened when the wife showed up?" you ask, hooked despite yourself.

Kazimier's grin widens, "She found a brown-haired vampress in her penthouse wearing nothing but her husbands blue henley." He takes in your expression and keeps going, "The broad probably would've killed me if I didn't 'confess' that her husband had just left for the bar in the lobby with the other girl. Boy did that lie get her back out the door in an instant. From there I put a little oil in a glass cup, light it with a match, an' drop the little moltov offa' the balcony. A signal to get in position. I count to sixty and jump off myself- make my getaway."

You lean back, taking in the convoluted mind you're sitting with tonight, somewhat stunned. "Wait- Why did you need to borrow my enchanted shovel, then?" you add, happy that it was returned to you clean and unharmed the moment you sat down but curious since Kazimier said it was needed for this heist.

"Oh, that? I killed the husband." Kazimier says with a casual shrug.

"You used my shovel to bury a Nexan?!" you hiss, leaning forward. This wasn't what you expected at all when Kazimier offered you a deal.

Kazimier leans forward, all the humor gone from his face, only the tilt of his head hinting at his amusement. "I used your very unique shovel to kill, a Nexan, sunshine." He kills his drink and with a parting chuckle you and your shovel are left behind, tools that have fulfilled their use and you realize with ice in your blood why Kazimier just told you everything.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal.

Taggames: Taggames: @katenewmanwrites @smellyrottentrees @wyked-ao3 @lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @urbiggestfan-01 @quillswriting @tragedycoded

[alienssstufff]

Any predictions/secret theories for future Qsmp lore? Personally I love trying to imagine what the eggs' dragon mom is gonna be like (IF she even exists at all....that's one of my theories lmao)

ówò That the thing- the more this goes on the less I believe she’s even real , or the eggs are even organic for that matter. I mean naturally all eggs in general are easy to break - but it’s interesting how after the 30th when they were supposed to die they left with nothing but a crack. If they were actually eggs it would be difficult to keep their shells in one piece - more like broken equipment than a shell. (SOMETHING on the 30th tried shutting the eggs down but another force stopped them)

My prediction is that the eggs are robots issued by the Federation to (unknowingly) watch over the residents. Quackity mentioned smth abt the psychology of the egg event which got me thinking that maybe the personalities of the eggs are learning AI’s who are keep the parents emotionally attached to the island. As they are self learning AI, the eggs grow and are influenced by the parents but aren’t self-aware they are being used— unless if the parent exposes their kid to the secrets of the island and said AI start to put the pieces together: q!Maxo and qTrump. I don’t think qTrump died to ‘neglect’ but he was shut down by the federation bc they were getting a little too close to the truth, hence Maxo’s and qTrump’s 5min convo at the funeral - this being qTrump (a egg who formed a friendship with his parent) last ditch effort into helping Maxo before he is discontinued. Eggs ‘die’ when they are of no use or potentially harm the Federation. The eggs don’t know about this plan not only to better sell the role but to make sure no secrets (like what qTrump said) are leaked to the residents.

This also explains why the event organisers were so adamant in keeping the eggs ‘alive’, they may be robots but they are fragile and carry valuable information (footage to keep watching the residents). Not to mention how Q!Quackity’s final farewell to Tilin kept getting interrupted - the Federation still needed the body to get info probably and destroying it means losing all that intel and also Q!Quackity’s means on staying on the island.

More dots, JuanaFlippa is an interesting case as well bc of the conversation q!Maxo had with Cucurucho. While Angel!Rubius made a deal with q!Slime to ‘bring her case up with the Divine Court to revive her’, Cucurucho tells q!Maxo not to believe Rubius’ words on that- and that it was the Federation that brought JuanaFlippa back to life -> the Federation repairing JuanaFlippa.

As for the future… I’m not sure - nothing lasts forever and eventually this will have to stop ó_ò,,, ngl I do hope at least something mandatory happens soon I worry it’ll overstayed it’s welcome and getting a bit samey — especially for those who don’t have a kid to look after I want to them to have a reason to log on again u_u

[pangzi]

A day in the life of Pangzi, a half orc who has a farm in the mountains.

The sky is only barely tinted a soft pink when Pangzi steps out of his cabin. The sun still has a long way to go before it peaks out from behind the mountain tops. It’s a sight that greets him every morning, but it never fails to take his breath away. 

As always, he takes a moment to appreciate the view. He takes a deep breath, letting the cold morning air fill his lungs and clear his head. Only when he feels fully awake he finally steps down into the soft, wet grass and makes his way towards the barn.

Just like every other day, his bison are already eagerly waiting at the fence to greet him. He gently pets as many of them as he can as he passes them by. Most of them are satisfied by a gentle pat on the nose, while some of the younger ones follow him until the fence stops them. Pangzi gives them one last scratch on their heads as a goodbye and then steps into the barn. 

He barely gets to crack open the barn door before Lingling is crawling up his side already. He scoops him up quickly and sets him on his shoulder, where he curls up happily, his head tucked under Pangzi’s chin. 

“Clingy creature,” he chuckles fondly.

After getting saved from a poacher, the poor hurt pangolin was left on Pangzi’s doorstep by a kind soul and hasn’t left his side since. He tried to release him back into the wild once he was fully healed and ready to fend for himself again, but each and every time Lingling would find his way back to Pangzi, no matter what Pangzi tried. Eventually he had to give up and allow the creature to stay. Not that he wanted him to go, he had long gotten attached to him when he first tried to release him.

With Lingling heavily but happily settled on Pangzi’s shoulder, Pangzi carefully checks up on his sheep and goats before releasing them into the meadow. The sheep need to be sheared soon. He cannot wait, he’s running out of yarn and he really needs some new socks.

With a soft hum he continues his rounds on the farm.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised when he finds the chickens out of their coop and fed already. A basket full of freshly collected eggs is placed ready for Pangzi to pick up and take inside. He hasn’t collected a single egg himself in ages, not that he would ever complain about it. It’s nice to finally have some help on the farm, it was long overdue. 

When he passes the barn to make his way into the fields, he carefully peels Lingling from his shoulder and puts the sleeping creature back in his burrow. He lets out a small, pitiful sound as Pangzi sets him down but he quickly shuffles deeper into his burrow and goes to sleep for the day.

His next harvest seems to be doing well too, it’s looking like another big one. He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how much he will be able to bring down to the village. They might not appreciate it, but he knows they need it and he likes helping.

He still has to bring a share of the early harvest down. He only just finished sorting and rationing all of it. 

One batch of produce is already carefully wrapped up in a piece of cloth. From what’s left, he picks out the best and carefully puts it at the bottom of his basket. Then he puts a divider in so the rest doesn’t touch it and carefully fills up the rest of the basket. 

On his way down the mountain he makes a small detour. He makes his way higher up first to leave the small cloth wrapping in a tree hollow at the edge of the woods. 

The closer he gets to the village, the more his heart starts racing. Not because he is afraid. He won’t go far enough into town to get any of the villagers after him. Or he shouldn’t at least. 

With shaking hands he carefully knocks on the door of her house. He really hopes she’s home. She wasn’t home last time and he’s been wondering how she and Xiao Mei have been. Last time they spoke Xiao Mei was ill. He has seen her running in the fields, so Pangzi knows she’s doing better, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying. 

“Pangzi! I hadn’t expected you for another week or two,” Piaopiao smiles warmly as she opens the door. “Let me get your basket, I noticed the shoulder straps were getting old so I put some new ones on!”

He’s at a loss for words immediately. He barely manages to get her name over his lips as a greeting. He always thinks he’s getting better at talking to her, but then she smiles and he cannot help but stumble over his words. She’s patient with him as always, which only makes him more nervous. She’s so kind and it only makes her more beautiful to him.

“Early harvest,” Pangzi mumbles eventually, stumbling over his words immensely. “I’ll have more in a few weeks.” 

He takes the basket from his back and puts it on the ground for her to see what he brought. That’s when he feels the first thud against his back. He doesn’t think much of it and proudly shows her some of his produce. 

“You have more coming, really?” Piaopiao asks in surprise as she sees how much he brought. “I can feed the whole town with this! Are you sure you aren’t overworking yourself? Are you keeping enough for yourself?”

Pangzi shakes his head, his cheeks warm. “I have help, don’t worry about me.” He scratches the back of his neck and that’s when he feels the next hit. It’s sharp and hard and quickly followed by another one hitting him in the head.

“Get away from her you monster! Leave her alone!” A voice screams from behind him as he gets hit in the head again and again. Rocks. Someone was throwing rocks at him.

Instinctively Pangzi hunches down, which doesn’t change much, he’s still bigger than the average adult human. He’s too big to miss even when he makes himself as small as he can be. 

Pangzi looks over his shoulder to see the culprit. When he sees it’s just a young child, his heart sinks more than it usually does. Is he really that terrifying? Do they hate him so much that even their children get poisoned against him from early on? 

He feels rage bubble up in his chest but he presses it down. No matter how much he would like to give this child a piece of mind, he can’t. Piaopiao wouldn’t want him to and it would just make things so much worse. As long as he keeps to himself the villagers tend to leave him alone. If he were to even raise his voice at this child… Every village in the vicinity of the mountain would probably rise up against him.

“Get away from her! Don’t hurt her! Don’t worry, ayi, I won’t let him hurt you,” the child screams. He swings a small wooden sword in the air before throwing another sharp rock at Pangzi’s head.

Pangzi has no other option than to look at Piaopiao for help. She just looks back at him, her eyes full of pity. Pangzi can feel his heart sink in his chest. He knows it’s safer for the both of them if she doesn’t interfere, but still…

“I think it’s better if you return home,” she says quietly. “Thank you for sharing your harvest with us again, I will make sure it goes to the people who need it most.” 

Biting the inside of his cheek hard, Pangzi lowers his head and nods. “I added extra berries for Xiao Mei,” he whispers, “I’ll see you in a few weeks then.” He grabs his basket, the straps looking newer than they ever had, and walks away.

The kid continues his assault as Pangzi makes his way out of the village. Several others joini him even, following to the edge of town. “That’s right, coward. Run away and stay away! We don’t want your kind here!”

He knows…

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

it’s the end of limited life. time to dissect martyn’s video.

there are some who watch, we are those who listen not yet free, still you flee, from a weighted decision in each peace, lies a piece, that makes up the whole woven the fragments that make up a soul.

the listeners talking to martyn after he died. the first line is pretty obvious: there are watchers, and we are listeners. martyn himself is a listener, but a pretty confused one. but since he is one, i would assume the voice is benign, if controlling.

analysis under the cut

“not yet free, still you flee” - i’m not sure if this is referring to something specific like his betrayal, but it could also refer to the inevitability of the series, of how everyone desperately tries to hang on for more time but will still die in the end.

“from a weighted decision” - now weighted means biased. biased as in, the watchers make sure everyone dies? biased as in, the watchers make everyone create entertainment?

“in each peace, lies a piece, that makes up the whole. woven the fragments that make up a soul” - the “soul” probably refers to martyn. so the “pieces” make him up. probably, then they refer to the peace in the last three seasons.

i’d like to bring up @give-grian-rights’s analysis here. they point out that the “peace” could mean the times that martyn stayed loyal to his allies, instead of this season’s brutal betrayal. every time he stays loyal, he fragments a piece of himself. every time he betrays, like now, the listeners “heal” him one time, as can be seen in the animation when the crack on his glove disappears when the mysterious hand touches it.

extrapolating from this: people often say that the watchers egg the players on for entertainment. but this seems to say that there is another force at work: the listeners. martyn is a listener, and his eyes are closed in the animation. could he be subconsciously giving himself the cracks for not providing enough entertainment and keeping the peace?

the one time that he betrayed, he won the series. the listeners are the ones involved in the end segment and rewarding martyn. the listeners are the ones who can control the series, giving him the win. the listeners are doing as their name states, hearing the ticktock and tocktick of the end game as martyn goes near mad with despair.

at the end, the video says “fragment protected” - note protected. not healed, not restored. what does the fragment mean? is it a mark of martyn’s peacefulness?

i think it could mean that the listeners are trying to urge martyn to make entertainment, to not anger the watchers. the watchers target him, because he is a listener, forcing him to make more content, punishing him every time he fails to do so, with the cracks. the listeners can only help by mending the crack when he finally complies with the watchers.

martyn is a marked man - marked by the watchers, and watched by the listeners.

[nvrcmplt]

Claude’s newest release of book is called; Connections.

It’s about himself, a semi-auto-biography about his journey from one deep low to a stable high. Small snippets into his life as a Father of three dogs, post-break-up from Engagement and loss of friendships due to his drive to make his relationship work perfectly. How his life changed from all this manic great feats finally reached only for it to be broken away - chips, missing puzzle pieces and the likes.

Claude goes into the depths of his mental health, explaining it in a way the best he can with how his mind changed from these happy moments to twist them into a self-doubt, self-destructive retrospections of himself, his actions and everything he did ‘wrong’. This makes up half the book, heavy and weighted in his way of his words. Scribbles in the margins, a few illustrations of voids and dark spots, cracked pages.

The second half of the book opens up on the names of a few persons. Polar bears. Wine Nights. His dogs. His new home. His new neighbours. Though not named fully, enough to be known to those around him to pick themselves out. Claude goes from a dark, moody factual writing to a sudden uplifting poetry almost. Each paragraph covered in blossomed flowers, cake slices, dog paw prints… chaotic but in a sense of good-chaos.

He writers in depth about how easy it was for him to slip off the edge over and over and over, only to be given a stern hand. A knock at his door. An invitation to get out his home. To have the simplest of aids he didn’t realize he needed, such as just tidying his home.

The majority of the last few chapters, he speaks out on his feelings and cherishing of friendships that he’s forgotten about. How he’s forgiven himself for being that way before, forgiven his lover for choosing his own mental health and heart from looking after someone like himself, when he saw it as nothing but abandonment and their relationship shattering from one night, and not from over the years of being together… Forgiving his friends for smacking sense into him when he least wanted it and he made it known by isolating.

But nearing the end of the book, Claude turns to the audience. ‘Not to preach… but from one dark sad toad to another who reads these books of mine. Learn to forgive yourself, but don’t hide behind it. Work from the ground up if you have too. Work to become better, how to cope better, how to fix the littlest things around you better. Speak to someone, write to someone, get it out of you in any form of media… it’s doing wonders for me.' He tells his audience that life is hard, he isn’t cured with friendship, love and forgiveness of all things, but he is getting better each day he has something to focus on.

He tells his readers to learn how to be happy within themselves but also to not throw their everything at another person, just because that happiness is beginning to grow. Learn to accept putting one or two eggs in everyone’s baskets and that nothing is perfect, but the unknown is not to dread either. Because no matter what, somewhere, someone will make a connection with you as a person, a friend, a landlord, a neighbour and it’ll help you in more ways than you’ve ever thought to know.

The book finishes with a picture of Claude’s bird-self, a new illustration for this book, surrounded by a large set of 3 polar bears, his three dogs, and his best friend - a lioness resting against his shoulder, as the bird-mascot writes on paper. The floor littered with cake crumbs, plates, bottles of juice and chaos of good things.

[hotshotsxyz]

just like eggs (over-easy)

(buddie) (1.5k) (read it on ao3)

In his entire life, Eddie Diaz has never made an easy decision.

As a child, he hadn’t made many decisions at all; his mom bought his clothes, his dad signed him up for peewee football, and later, for after school shifts at the local grocery store. Marrying Shannon had felt like the first decision he’d ever really made for himself, and he’d agonized over it. Everyone who knew had told him it was the right thing to do, and surely the warmth he’d felt when he looked at her had to mean something.

Joining the military had, for a moment, felt easy. Easy but for the niggling doubt in the back of his mind, easy but for the fear of coming home in a body bag, or not at all. Easy but for the way Shannon looked at him when he told her. Of that decision, he’d been sure, but the ease of it lasted only as long as it took his inked signature to dry.

Coming home – well, that hadn’t been a decision at all. He likes to think he would’ve made it anyway, but three bullets and the mess of scar tissue that followed took it out of his hands. And leaving again – this time with Christopher in tow – felt a little like ripping himself in two. Leaving behind Eddie the son, Eddie the husband, Eddie the soldier. Grasping tightly to Eddie the father, the only piece of him he was sure still had some worth.

Even joining the 118 had felt monumental. With the benefit of hindsight, it’s a decision he’d make a thousand times over, one of the best he’s ever made, but it still hadn’t been easy. He’d gone back and forth on stations for a week, until finally Bobby had convinced him with a few choice words about teamwork, partnership, and serving a purpose greater than all of them.

Leaving the 118 had been the hardest of them all. And the biggest mistake, as it turned out. Or– maybe that wasn’t quite right. He’d needed the time, he realizes now. The therapy, too. The mistake would have been staying away, never coming back. But that decision was difficult too.

Today, though, Eddie Diaz feels settled. Like anything he decides will turn out all right. Like the decisions he needs to make have been sitting in the back of his mind for years, just waiting to be dusted off and examined. Like he already knows what he needs to do, and for once in his life, it’s what he wants to do, too.

He catches Buck’s wrist as he steps out of the locker room, still damp from his post-shift shower. Buck quirks an eyebrow and smiles that half-smile that Eddie’s pretty sure he’s been in love with since day one.

“Come home with me?” Eddie asks.

Buck’s expression goes soft around the edges. He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a jaw cracking yawn.

“C’mon,” Eddie says, grinning a little too wide for the morning after a busy 24.

Buck chuckles and scrubs his free hand across his jaw. “I’m not going to be great company,” he warns.

At that, Eddie laughs. “Me neither,” he says. “I think you and I both have a date with a long nap.”

“Sounds good, Eds.” Buck’s voice is soft, and warm, and Eddie would listen to him read the phone book outloud if he said it like that.

Their fingers twine together on the center console, and even though this thing between them is still new and largely unspoken, Eddie knows exactly what it is. It’s the way Buck’s eyes find his at every red light. It’s the gentle warning squeeze every time he starts to brake. It’s the way Eddie trusts Buck, has always trusted Buck, to get them both home after an exhausting shift. It’s warmth and joy and love, and it’s a forever kind of thing.

By the time Eddie wakes from their nap, the decision he hadn’t even realized he was considering is made.

Eddie swipes a thumb across Buck’s cheekbone, marveling at the way the late afternoon sunlight dyes his skin golden. Like this, ivory sheets pooled around his waist, face relaxed and unlined in sleep, Buck reminds him of the ancient Greek gods he and Christopher had been so excited to share last week at dinner. Apollo, perhaps, kissed by the sun. A healer.

Eddie purses his lips and blows, just to watch Buck’s nose scrunch. He runs his fingers along Buck’s jaw. “It’s time to wake up,” he whispers, unwilling to disturb the silence of the room entirely.

Buck hums and nuzzles into his hand. “In a sec,” he mumbles.

“We have to pick Christopher up,” Eddie reminds him gently. He’s tempted to let Buck sleep, but the one time he had silently slipped from bed and gone to the school on his own, Buck had pouted the rest of the night, only relenting when Eddie promised to always wake him up in the future.

Buck’s eyes blink open once, twice, and finally focus on Eddie’s. The haze of sleep that hangs in them does nothing to detract from the oceans of blue that sweep Eddie away everytime he allows himself a moment to get lost in them.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly.

“Hi,” Buck breathes. His hand, which has been resting on Eddie’s waist all this time, slowly slides up his ribs and across his chest until it comes to rest over Eddie’s steadily beating heart. “Hi,” Buck says again.

“You awake?” Eddie teases gently. He threads his fingers through Buck’s hair, longer now than it was the first time he’d done so.

Buck grins, lopsided and sweet. “I’m awake,” he confirms, eyes sparkling with something that looks a lot like Eddie feels.

“You ready to go?” Eddie asks.

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” Buck says, and while his tone is light, Eddie knows that he means it, knows it because he’d do the same.

“Hollywood during rush hour?” he teases.

“You know it,” Buck answers, just like Eddie knew he would.

“To my parents’ house in Texas?”

“Your dad’s chorizo is really good,” Buck says.

“Antarctica?” Eddie asks, biting down on his own smile.

“Always wanted to see a penguin in the wild.”

“What about the moon?” Eddie asks, suddenly a little breathless.

Buck’s eyes slip shut and he hums. “We’ll steal a rocketship from NASA and go in the morning. All of Christopher’s classmates will be jealous.”

“How about the courthouse, right after we pick Chris up from school?”

Buck’s eyes snap open and his lips part. “Eds,” he says softly, eyes shining.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a ring yet,” Eddie says, cupping Buck’s jaw in his hand, “and I’m sorry I’m not on one knee.”

“That’s okay,” Buck chuckles wetly. “I’m not sure those old man knees of yours could handle it, anyway.”

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, “I’m trying to propose.”

Buck’s face crumples, and the tears begin to gather in earnest. “Eddie,” he says, and it’s all Eddie needs to hear to confirm he’s made the right decision, the best decision, the easiest one he’s ever made.

“I want to wake up next to you every day. I want to make you coffee with that demon coffee machine, and watch you make breakfast because I still can't manage eggs over-easy. I want to tell you, every single day, that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and Christopher. I want you to be his dad with me, and I want the entire world to know it. I want you, Evan Buckley, in every single way for the rest of our lives.” Eddie says it all without hesitating, without looking away. He thumbs a tear from the corner of Buck’s eye. Eddie smiles, happier than he can ever remember being, and asks, “Will you marry me?”

Buck squeezes his eyes shut then opens them again, leaving his lashes wet and sparkling in the sunlight. “You’ve never even kissed me,” he says thickly.

Eddie huffs a soft laugh. “I can fix that,” he says, shifting forward so their noses nearly touch.

“I love you,” Buck says, and it’s like every happiness Eddie’s ever felt rolled up into one enormous burst of light in his chest.

“I love you, too,” Eddie says. He presses his forehead to Buck’s and closes his eyes. “So what do you say?” he asks.

Buck’s exhale is warm against Eddie’s lips. “Yes,” Buck says, soft, simple. He shifts forward until his lips are just a hairsbreadth from Eddie’s. “I’ll marry you in Hollywood during rush hour, or at your parents’ house in Texas. I’ll marry you in Antarctica, or on the moon, or at the courthouse, right after we pick Christopher up from school.”

“Speaking of,” Eddie murmurs, “if we don’t get up soon, we’re going to be late.”

“Eddie Diaz, love of my life, fiancé of mine, if you don’t kiss me right this second–”

Eddie closes the last sliver of distance between them, and in the second easiest decision of his life, cuts Buck off with the last first kiss he’ll ever have.

It feels a lot like coming home.

[mattsvn]

CHANCE BALL LOVE!

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Meet ugly! strangers to lovers! Getting hit in the head with a volleyball!

Warnings: Blood, head injury, concussion, did I mention getting hit in the head with a volleyball? Food hehe, that's all.

WC: 2.4K

Summary: After being hit with a volleyball by the ace and U19 athlete, Ushijima Wakatoshi, you find yourself laying in the nurse's office, with a bag of ice on your head and a boy apologizing every two minutes for that terrible accident. As the times goes by, you realize that not only you were hit by a ball, but by destiny, and more important, love.

A/N: I'm so excited for this piece! This is a collab for HQHQ (now Anilysium!) The masterlist is here! I hope you like this piece! Reblogs are appreciated!

Life is made up of 90% causality and 10% coincidence.

That was what your mother used to say, with her hands covered with flour up to her elbows, while she prepared one of those delicious desserts. Possibly as a result of all her years perfecting her technique as a pastry chef, but, as in that, she considered that everything had to be planned, measured, and calculated.

On the other hand, your father was always talking about how fate made everything line up perfectly for things in his life to come in abundance, he would happily tell about the coincidences in his life, although the answer was always the same, a debate between the two of them as to what was the truth.

A skeptical pastry chef and a dreamy lawyer, a match made in heaven.

Whatever it had been, causality or causality, you never thought a hit of luck would be so...literal.

It was unusual for you to be in Shiratorizawa's volleyball gymnasium, if you had managed to get into such a prestigious high school it was because of the impeccable grades you always had, sports were not a priority.

You weren't afraid of balls, but, the way everyone was spiking the ball was about to cause you a headache, especially Ushijima Wakatoshi, the school's ace, one of the best athletes in the country.

"Why are we here, again?" you asked, your gaze wandering between the various players and the sound of balls hitting everywhere making the conversation feel distorted.

"Because they" one pointed out, to the rest of the girls looking around the court excitedly "want to see Semi Eita, the pretty boy with the grey hair" she gestured to the boy in the corner, slamming the ball to the ground unaware that they were watching.

"Ah" you replied, somewhat bored, grabbing your backpack and standing up. "Good luck with that, I have to get home early" you said, waving goodbye to everyone.

To leave, or at least, to do it in a faster way, the door that led out of the building, and through which you had to go through the court, was the best option, as it took longer to take the way inside the corridors. The only option as you made your way down the bleachers.

The only thing you heard, with your eyes glued to the ground, trying to go completely unnoticed was a "WATCH OUT!" that made you look up before you saw nothing but darkness.

"I don't know, Wakatoshi-kun, looks like you did kill her" a voice was heard in the distance, the light irritating your eyes if you tried to open them. Still, only because of your stubbornness, you tried to get up without anyone else's help.

"I don't think it's best if you stand up now" you heard a deeper voice, but you didn't know exactly where it was coming from.

"I'm fine" you whispered, placing a hand on where you assumed you had been hit with the volleyball, feeling a warm liquid staining it. It wasn't possible that a spike had cracked your forehead open, right?

Right?

"I'm fine, I have to go" as you stood up, opening your eyes, everything was spinning. An arm went around your shoulders, stopping you from falling back to the ground, firm, but at the same time gentle.

"You need to go to the infirmary, you're bleeding" the voice now seemed to be closer, a little more stable, but, no way did you feel you could even move without throwing up or passing out again, what the fuck had that hit been? Could someone hit someone that hard just with a serve?

The answer was yes, and the name, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You barely felt it when, just like that, he lifted you off the ground, although it seemed that your body felt it. A piece of something, probably cloth or gauze stopped the bleeding. You kept repeating that at least they let you walk, that you were okay, even though, clearly, you had the symptoms of a concussion.

"Are you all right, can you tell me where you are?" questioned Ushijima, entering a room. You had finally managed to open your eyes and recover from the dizziness.

"I'm fine, we're at the high school" you whispered, looking at Ushijima for the first time.

Even if you had gone to games before, you had never seen that look on Wakatoshi's face, a mixture of fear and worry, accompanied by his pale face and a barely noticeable bloodstain on his shirt.

"You can wait outside, dear boy," said the nurse, slightly terrified by what had happened.

A couple of hours passed before they managed to let you go, after calling your parents and making sure you didn't leave the building unless you were accompanied. You didn't need stitches, and that was a huge plus, but still, you left the infirmary with a gauze pad on your forehead, some candy, and a chance to take the rest of the week off to rest, which wasn't such a bad outcome.

You closed the door behind you, looking sideways at Wakatoshi on the floor, who got up almost immediately, still looking scared, even his gaze lingered for a few seconds on the patch on your forehead, which reminded him of the fact that he had accidentally hit you with a volleyball while practicing his serves.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking disheveled, and as if he had done nothing more than wait in the hallway until everything was in order.

"Oh, don't worry, Ushijima-san, I'm fine" you assured, but it didn't seem to be enough for him.

"I'm so sorry, let me take you home to be sure you arrive safely" he asked, with his hands behind his back and his head slightly bent down, like a child discovered stealing the candy from the counter.

"My parents are here to take me home, don't worry" you assured, glancing sideways at the door, somewhat far away. "You can walk me to the car, if you like."

"Of course" he nodded, walking beside you. Up close he looked even taller than he was, his expression calm and his gaze fixed straight ahead, though, he seemed to have a doubt that would leave his lips at any moment "Would you allow me to walk you to school tomorrow?"

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, somehow, the sound of just both of your footsteps in the hallway was comforting, soothing. It wasn't awkward, or uncomfortable. Ushijma didn't believe in awkward silences, because to him actions said more than words, and, that a question shouldn't be answered right away. So, the way to the entrance was nothing more than waiting for an honest, and safe, answer.

"I got permission to miss classes for the rest of the week, in case the concussion gets complicated, because I have to rest" you began, letting again the calm silence take center stage for a couple of seconds. "Then I won't be back until Monday, but maybe you can come for dinner tomorrow?"

"If you accept that as my apology for hurting you, then by all means" he took the door, allowing you to leave before him, there was still a bit of a walk to the main entrance. "Although, I would like to cook"

"Oh, I didn't know you cooked," you smiled, looking up at him. Ushijima looked down, and, you could swear he was smiling too. "If that's what you prefer, I'd love to."

The rest of the walk was quiet, and calm. Ushijima said goodbye to you after introducing himself to your parents, and apologizing again. In the rearview mirror you saw him standing there, waiting until he didn't see the car to go home.

He was really worried, and it would probably take him a few days to stop being scared about what had just happened. He was even willing to be scolded by the coach for missing two days of practice, just to make sure everything was in order.

Likewise, even if it would be a whole day before you saw Ushijima, he decided to call you just before he went to bed. And at lunchtime, because doing it earlier would surely have woken you up. He didn't talk too much, he let you talk about how annoying the doctors at the hospital had been when you went to check that everything was okay, and all the boring time you spent there.

He called back as soon as he got out of school, to make sure the details of the dinner were ready, he would bring the food, and some dessert, and, you would bring the drinks. You had to convince him though, otherwise he would have bought everything, he would have even brought plates and silverware from his own house.

Wakatoshi took the job of bringing the food seriously, as much as he could buy anything on the way home, he decided to make something himself. The menu was simple, yakisoba, yukari rice balls with an egg on top of each dish. As for dessert, he decided not to risk it, and preferred to buy those box cakes that had been quite popular lately, and, some condensed milk truffles that Tendou gave him as a gift as, he assured, you would love them.

Your parents could be quite reluctant to invite a boy to the house, but, after proposing the idea that you could clean up the picnic table you had in the backyard, where there was a space convenient enough for them to peek in just a little to feel safe, they agreed almost immediately.

During the afternoon, the question you wanted to ignore came out of nowhere, could that be considered a date, and should you dress for the occasion? It didn't seem like anything would match a forehead injury, or that anything would hide it. The result ended up being something you would wear if you were going out with friends, simple, and appropriate for the sunny day out.

Ushijima arrived exactly at the appointed time, and, reluctantly from your parents, you opened the door without them intruding. Looking at him, you failed to understand the nervous feeling that traveled from your heart to the tips of your fingers, making them tremble. Standing with a bag in his left hand, his hair slightly tousled and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Yet another gesture of apology, right?

"Hi, I brought some flowers" he pointed out, extending them. Your hand gently brushing his as you took them, white roses with green accents that made the bouquet look incredibly elegant.

"I already told you that you didn't have to keep apologizing, Ushijima" you mentioned, taking the flowers. "We'll eat outside then you don't need to take off your shoes, but let me go get a vase."

"You look good today" he spoke out of nowhere, making you look at him even though you were already halfway down the aisle. "You look good in those clothes" he seemed to be trying to smile, but you weren't sure. You smiled anyway, grateful for the compliment.

You returned with the bouquet, which would now serve as a decoration for the picnic. You could feel the intense gaze of your parents even if they tried to hide when they peeked, or, according to them, "watched" that everything was in order.

"Are you feeling better then?" he asked, looking at how simply decorated the picnic table was but somehow looked incredibly cozy, with perfect tree shade.

As was now usual, Wakatoshi didn't talk more than usual, at least not at first, he wanted to hear about how you were feeling, and how many days you would be out of school, although you assured him that you would be back to your activities by next Monday, and that, your friends would take care of sending you the homework you needed. Then the questions about him began.

You learned a lot, how he learned to play volleyball at a young age, his interest in cooking but his almost zero ability to make desserts. My mother could make some, you laughed, drinking some cranberry juice in a wine glass, your father's idea. He told you about his new interest in plants, and his father's work out of the country. Even some good anecdotes about the volleyball team.

Dessert was something completely different, by that time, she started to excitedly explain his last game, and what it was like to be in the Olympics. Although it wasn't as noticeable, you could tell in the way his lips curved into a slight smile as he tried to find the right words to define how he felt.

Reluctantly, and after offering to do the dishes, you said no, keeping the bento boxes with the promise that you would bring lunch on Monday for both of you, and now a wide smile on his face, even when he had to go home.

The following Monday came terribly slow, with the only thing that made it better being that Ushijima had not stopped her constant calls, the day possibly delayed by dark clouds heralding torrential rain.

"You don't have to keep apologizing anymore, look, even the wound has healed" you said, to Ushijima who was standing at the entrance, now with a box of the truffles you had liked so much, and which he had now made.

"I know. But I'd really like to walk with you at school" he smiled. "If you'll let me.

"I'd love to."

Life is made up of 80% causality and 20% chance, and, although you wouldn't want to repeat the literal hit of luck you received, you hadn't wanted it any other way.

Going to the gym because your friends wanted to see a cute boy on the volleyball team, having to leave early because you had things to do at home, leaving through the door you had to walk through on the court, getting hit in the head with a volleyball, only to end up walking to school with him, fingers barely brushing, a tender kiss on the cheek before he left.

Eating now inside the house, holding hands, a kiss on the corner of the lips. Waiting in the bleachers for practice to end, a number one jacket covering you from the rain.

The worst way to get to know each other, and, somehow, it seemed you were made for one another.

[kaijurakunsobs]

If requests are open could you do a Heisenberg fic with a teen or young adult reader(no older than 20 please) who stumbles into the village trying to get away from their parents and after they get attacked by Lycans Heisenberg patches them up and takes them in trying to hide them from his sister and mother miranda. Could you please do it with an AFAB reader who doesn’t identify as female? I am currently dealing with borderline verbal abuse from my conservative father who doesnt like that though I am AFAB I don’t identify as female.

first, baby, I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. I know how bad and mentally taxing that kind of living situation can get, I was in a similar situation and somehow managed to pull through.

you are not alone, you are loved and I hope everything gets better, never forget that it's you who defines yourself, your self worth should NEVER be defined by others

All you can think is...how cold everything is around you, how the freezing air burns your skin and lungs, but, you have endured something worst, physical pain can be healed with time, emotional and psychological pain is what hurts the most, what feels eternal and haunting, it coils around you, it grows and never let's go, like being branded, it leaves marks that never go away.

Running aimlessly through the snow feels like nothing.

What made you get out of the car?

Was it anger?

Desperation?

Does that even matter anymore?

You can't hear their voices anymore, so that's a win.

Farther away you see smoke and fain lights, distant sounds beckoning you closer to that place, and you let yourself smile widely when the silhouette of someone standing so close to you, you could get help, start somewhere new, be happy!

But it's so short-lived, that you question if there's divine retribution, karma, or just the universe laughing in your face.

Your "savior" is covered in blood, a man with a perpetual expression of agony lays in the snow, dead. The monster turns to you and finally the cold freezes you where you stand, it's not alone, and all the other creatures are looking at you, dark soulless eyes fixated on their new prey.

You have felt like that before under his gaze like if you were vermin, it made you furious how you were treated and consider as something lesser than a person. These things look at you the same like you are just a speck of dust in their path, and maybe you are, if the mangled body is any indication that taking a life will be nothing for them.

You see it from the corner of your eye, one of them lunges for you, and then? everything is a blur.

You remember kicking and punching wildly, adrenaline making you forget about the pain of the bites and scratches, there are memories of you running and using something to smash the head of one of the monsters, a rock, perhaps? But in the end, cold, blood loss, and exhaustion are enough to bring you to your knees. One of them grabs a fistful of hair and roars in your face and you know, that, this is it, you fought and did your best, but this is the end of your travesty...so much for your new life of freedom.

"Get the fuck away...I SAID FUCK OFF!" his voice is so loud that it makes you whimper and recoil "LET GO, CAN'T YOU HEAR ME? LET GO, DAMN IT!" the smell of blood and a warm liquid hits you hard, but at least you are free, letting your body hit the snow

"What do we have here?...this one is alive, but ya ain't from around here, do you?" he's smoking and something small and silly wants you to tell him that smoking is bad, which makes you smile so softly "...Interesting"

Heisenberg rarely gets intrigued by anything, he hasn't found anything to spark his curiosity in so long, so of course, he had to come and see what was causing such a commotion. What he thought to be a villager, fist fighting the lycans so valiantly, turned out to be a teenager, he saw you from afar,  furiously kicking lycan after lycan, you didn't even notice the growing red spots in your clothes and the black eye, it was survival and feral like behavior. Truly interesting.

Now, what made him pick you up with care? years from today he will say it was just "Scientific interest kiddo! nothing more", but, it's the pain in your face that makes him act so soft, it's not the agony brought by your wounds, this goes deeper, it's different and he knows it very well.

Under normal circumstances, he would have taken you to Moreau, but he knows the loud mouth will give you to that bitch Miranda and that will be it for you. Dimitrescu is OUT of the equation, so does Beneviento, hell knows what her psychotic ass would do to you. So he brings you back to his home and takes time to clean your wounds, true, his stitching abilities are amazing...on corpses, and a lack of anesthesia and your occasional movements makes it hard for him to stitch you properly, but by the end of everything, you are bandaged and clean, isn't that the important part?

He’s done his part, the rest is on you. If you had the strength to fight and even kill a lycan, you might live to see another day

How long were you out?

You are warm and so fucking sore, cracking your eyes open is a big task and even harder to sit up in the bed you are laying on. The room is black and smells like tobacco, oil, and something you can’t place but it’s nice.

Barefoot and curious you start to get up, wincing deep and loud when pain floods your body, but you get up non-less, you feel the cold air hit your legs, and immediately pull down the shirt to cover yourself. Then it fully clicks, the jagged memories of what happened slaps you in the face and make you lose your footing, falling back on the bed you pry the shirt off from your body, you see bandages and patches placed on smaller wounds, your head is killing you and your right eye hurts like crazy.

With small breathes you pull the shirt back on and force your body to get up and investigate the room. There are piles of clothes and pieces of paper everywhere, picking one of the pants you sigh, these are yours, but they have been destroyed either by the beasts or by however brought you here. Looking around there’s nothing more, time to go out.

The only door leads you to an open room, the kitchen and living room placed together, in one of the sofas you can see someone laying down, their chest rising and falling softly, their face obscured by an old hat.

You try to be as quiet and sneaky as possible when getting back into the room “Where do you think you are going, kid?” his voice is thick with sleep but the sound is enough to make you yelp, slamming your shoulder against the door frame, the man jumps up and in a couple of strides he’s beside you “Can you more fucking careful? the stitches gonna get open and if you get an infection I ain’t risking my neck to get you meds”

He’s a bit taller than you with squared and wide shoulders, his face is stern and it seems like he’s annoyed about something, is it you? Did you anger him? You try to remember what could you have done to make him so mad but nothing comes to you, is not like you remember much, and what you do, is better to be left forgotten.

Heisenberg has seen many people look at him with fear, reverence even, but he has never been in the receiving end of a look like yours, he has to close his eyes for a second, carefully grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the kitchen, almost forcing you to take a seat in on of the wobbly chairs he owns.

“Well now that you are back with us, I can finally cook something to eat. You must be starving! I would too after the way you fought back there” he lets out a howl while he busies himself with pulling ingredients for whatever he’s cooking “I saw ya, you know? That was one hell of a show and I know about putting up good entertainment, you gave those lycans a good beating”

Lycans? So those things have names...uuuh, who would have thought.

"What's your name kid?" you get pulled out of your mind by his voice and the smell of cooking eggs, for a moment you wonder and think, that this is the time to be addressed by YOUR name "...I'm Y/N, sir"

"Cut the sir bullshit, you ain't trying to impress nobody here, you can call me Heisenberg, Karl if you wanna get my attention quickly, got it?"

"Yes...Heisenberg?"

He's rather harsh from what little you have seen of him, but he's careful when serving you breakfast, a steady hand serves you tea and makes quick work of a loaf of bread, whit that you two eat in relative silence, he eats like a wolf and that's enough to make you hide a smile.

"Once you are...better..." he's speaking between bites, eew "I'm taking you to get some new clothes, staying here ain't gonna be free, ok?" with his fork pointing at you he waits and continues without you answering "I'll have to teach you...that's gonna take time..."

"I'm a faster learner!"

Heisenberg laughs at the offended tone in your voice, taking a big gulp from his mug once he stops "I like ya kid, there's a fire in you and I respect that, we gonna get along"

It takes you almost 2 weeks to fully recover and be able to move without crying out in pain. On the day he announces that he must take off your stitches, he's kind when pulling on the thread, talking about how that same day he's taking you to the seamstress cuz he's "done" having you wear his stuff.

The seamstress in the Village seems flabbergasted when "Lord Heisenberg" comes into her house, demanding she makes you good sturdy pants and easy to move in shirts. From that sole visit is enough for people to call you "Heisenberg's assistant" whenever you are sent to the village or just went spotted by anyone. The Duke, the merchant that sometimes you have found yourself talking to, does nothing but fuel the rumor, people already fear Heisenberg on a god day, now they fear you might be spying for him.

You would be lying by saying that, Heisenberg is a normal man, he's flamboyant and loud, filled with pride, and what you can describe as...showmanship, he speaks with passion when explaining to you the ins and outs of the factory. He's always close, never breathing down your neck, just close enough to hear if you need help.

The first time you see him use his gift is the most embarrassing and awkward moment of your life.

You are working on some molds for pieces he needs to make from scratch, he taught you where you should work on that, away from whatever lurks in the lower areas of the factory. You were so engrossed in getting the mold out perfectly, tongue sticking out and heavy gloves helping you to pry open the damn thing open, you don't even jump when a hand lands on your shoulder, but you do when the ghoulish face of a corpse appears beside you.

He's running the second he hears you, a high pitched sound tearing through the noise of the machinery, he sees you bolting it towards him and a Zwei Soldat quickly catching up with you, the drill in its arm too close to your back, the moment you are close enough he pulls you towards and behind him, a metal sheet flying to the thing and beheading it in an instant.

"Kid...Kid, look at me, hey, eyes on me" you are not crying, there's no blood anywhere and nothing seems to be missing, you seem more startled than anything else, but you listen to him, concentrated on him and his voice "Y/N, it's ok kid, I'm here"

Then it happens, you let it slip. "Thanks...thanks dad"

You feel him go tense, the hands-on your shoulders shake for a second and embarrassment comes crashing down on you, you are ready for him to yell or push you away and order you to see if the mold is still useful, but he pulls you close, patting your back like you never said anything.

There are days when you can hear him talking on the phone, his voice growing irritated, and his explosive temper getting worst.

You are curled up in the crawlspace that he turned into your room, listening to him talking with someone, he sounds exasperated and nervous. This time he takes longer to come out from his room, a new cigar in his mouth and hammer over his shoulder, usually, he would tell you that he's leaving for a couple of hours, this time he's just there, tapping his foot and sparing quick glances at you.

"Get your coat, we need to leave"

That's new...he never takes you with him to wherever he goes, but you don't feel like arguing and do as he says, slipping your boots on and grabbing your coat.

Heisenberg is unusually quiet this time, only the snow crunching under your feet make enough sound to fill in the void, he takes you farther from the village and into a rundown church, you can hear new voices and the unforgettable sounds of the lycans snarling.

Inside the candlelight is soft and cast strange shadows of the people already waiting inside. There's a woman in a white dress that probably towers over you, another lady dressed in black and her covered, she sits in a corner with a creepy doll on her lap, and finally, a shy man who battles to cover himself with the torn cloth of his jacket.

"Is this why mother Miranda called us? Did you brought a new toy and never informed her? what a bad dog you are Heisenberg"

"Non of your business, Dimitrescu" Karl does everything to keep you behind him, away from the doll or the twisted man, but especially from the woman, Dimitrescu as he called her.

From where you stood, you could see how beautiful and regal she is, sitting with grace and a sarcastic smile plastered on her face. Noticing you, she moved slightly to get a better look, narrowing her eyes, making you feel small and like food. Before she can't even speak the sound of feathers caught your attention, giving Karl enough time to guide you to one of the pews, making you take a seat beside him.

The four adults greeted the new woman, the infamous mother Miranda, you have heard about her in the village and through small stories shared by the Duke, but mostly, you have heard Heisenberg curse the woman and call her every single name under the sun.

"Usually I wouldn't care for what my children do in their dominions, but, Karl, I must say I'm disappointed in you...to hide this child and avoid telling us?"

"I apologize, Miranda, the right opportunity never came" ooooh he's pissed

"I say you take his toy, Mother Miranda, and if possible, give me that lovely lady to me?" at that your gut twist uncomfortably, it's been some time since you were...addressed like that

"Excuse me?" Heisenberg cocks his head to the side, looking at Dimitrescu over his shades "Are you talking about my SON?"

"YOUR SON?! Don't make laugh, child, I can smell the sweet maiden blood running through her veins, that's a lady not one of your dirty lycans"

"And you are bitch no matter how well you dress!"

"ENOUGH!" Miranda's voice breaks them apart, everyone looking at her "Care to elaborate, Heisenberg?"

Karl takes a second to take a drag from his cigar and blow a cloud of some into the air "I found Y/N here, they fought hard to survive and I took them in, just like Alcina, and her lovely daughters...I decided it was my time to have a child of my own"

"That doesn't change the fact that you brought an outsider and didn't inform mother, and now you are trying to do what exactly? have...them...play house with you?"

"Lady Dimitrescu, that's enough" she's looking at you, mother Miranda in staring, and Heisenberg as a hand on your back, suddenly you are hyper-aware of everything, the sounds and smells, the movements each person in the room does, the way the candles flicker "I allow it, may this never happen again, Heisenberg. Next time there will be consequences"

You feel like passing out after that, the screams of Dimitrescu and the doll get drown by the ringing in your ears, everything keeping you together is Heisenberg's hand on yours cursing up a storm as he pulls you along with him.

The cold air feeling nice against your burning skin.

"Kid? I think you are ready" you are halfway through the trek back to the factory when he speaks again

"Ready for what?"

"To be introduced to the Heisenberg family true work, of course! What kind of father I would be if I don't involve you in our family's business"

You trip with your feet hearing him say that, so...he meant it? what he said in the church...that you are his son?

"Come on Y/N, I won't go easy on you because you are my kid now, quick quick"

Catching up to him is easy and you feel at peace when one of his arms wraps around you, he begins to talk about how many things he's gonna teach you and how exciting is to have a young mind to shape.

For the first time, you are eager to get back home.

[80s4life]

The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts​)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning. 

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!” 

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted. 

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you. 

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part. 

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”  

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later. 

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white. 

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated. 

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly. 

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?” 

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on. 

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?” 

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...” 

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot. 

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!” 

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance. 

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

[scoups4lyfe]

Yyyyyyo. First, I just wanna say I've enjoyed your liveblog stuff a lot, especially with the analysis thing you got going on. Second, I hope you're staying safea and healthy, I believe you said something about getting food poisoning a few days ago? And lastly... Do you think it's possible that Vice and Ikki might revise their contract somehow? I admit, the only reason I'm considering this is because they're 'Revice' lol

……….Revice…………..revise….

mthER FVCKER

I FKING HATE THESE WRITERS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This is gonna drive me INSANE.

Also <333 thanks 🙏 for enjoying my liveblog and crack theories 🤪. And yeah <33 I’m doin my best to stay healthy (hahaha 👻💀)

I say “food poisoning” but it was actually an allergic reaction to something my friend made me :DD…..I’m allergic to a lot of sh*t. Egg whites and gluten are the big ones though. The food was supposed to be vegan/GF but I guess something went wonky. Mostly these accidents are fine cause I’m a lot more careful then I used to be

(Landed myself in the ER July 2021 cause I was living fast and loose with how careful I was when it came to food LOL )

Now.

Some analysis and why I wanna strangle these writers 👺

So after episode 31's insanity I couldn't sleep

So instead I spent 7 hours doing research and writing analysis.

While I was doing research I was looking into definitions (because I've noticed Intentionality here before, with Vail's name -- insert link) and decided to finally bite the bullet and google some sh*t.

And boy oh boy did I end up going into a fking RAGE at how deep this sh*t is. These writers planned everything down to the last detail and the more I analyzed the more insane I went.

(To the to point of homicidal rage cause FK these writers maaaan.)

Kinnoshita fking CATCH ME OUTISDE how bout THAT

Riiiiiight. So one thing I discovered is that the writers were really aware of the multiple different meanings of the words they chose. Language barriers be damned

So the reason I put the meaning of Preposition here is because the fact that "Vice" (in the preposition meaning) 'comes BEFORE' and that it is supposed to tell us the relationship with the noun phrase. A noun phrase being about a person, place or thing.

Obviously the other word would be Ikki. Because Vice formed in Ikki's past.

And why did he form?

Because he had to take the place of Ikki, because Ikki couldn't handle taking on Vail.

Vice "rather than" Ikki.

And then it coming from Vicis meaning "change, alternation, stead" is REALLY fcking me up -- because every time Ikki uses Vice's power his memories are altered. Using Vice changes Ikki, his power for Ikki's past.

Don't even get me STARTED at the meaning of Vice as a noun (person, place or thing) having one of the definitions be:

"Buffoon, Jester"

lol I think the sexual immorality definition really got a laugh out of me. "Especially prostitution" LOL!!! Honestly though the definition could still be applied if we think of Ikki's 'prostitution ' him losing pieces of himself (memories, etc) for the sake of others.

(Servicing others instead of himself)

So then I started lookin up Daiji's definitions and this drove me even MORE insane.

Like "live ammunition" ??? And what weapon does Daiji use when he transforms from Evil to Live?

A fking GUN bro.

Or the "armed but not exploded" and "Live bomb" like ?? Obviously when Daiji explodes he goes from Live to Evil.

My favorite though (of course) is the "of or involving a presentation" because Holy Live? When he finishes transforming his title is sung. Like at a concert.

This tells the audience that "Holy Live" is all just a presentation Daiji's putting up. A play where he's both the actors and the audience. Like? This isn't how Daiji *really* is hence

"To live out their fantasies"

or "Living a dream"

Because he needs to live up to the expectations he's placed on himself and his identity. He wants to be looked up to and admired. He wants to be the hero. He wants to be like Ikki. (Live copy)

Except by living out this fantasy -- by deleting Kagerou -- he will now have to "Live with their decision". I have no idea what happens to Akemi but I guess nothing good if y'alls sus-a$$ comments are an indicator LOL!!! So I guess with whatever happens,

Daiji's gonna have to live with the consequences.

Now this is where I was yelling screaming crying throwing up--

The fact that Evil meant more specific qualities of something "bad" shot me in the face. "Defective"

(Daiji is the only sibling not able to do things on his own. He keeps losing. Failing to be useful and/or needed)

"Weak" (do I even have to explain this?)

Even fking "FILTHY" y'all.

Like notice?? When we see Daiji first look into the mirror and see Kagerou (with the audience seeing Kagerou too) where is Daiji? He's lying in a pile of trash. With the trash bags.

"Wavering, timid" + "simple, ordinary" ?????

Dude

The "evil twin" thing took me outside and shot me in the face.

Especially how the "bad" adjective at one point had the definition of "fairly good" is SO funny to me because Kagerou's way more successful than Daiji LOL!!!!

[crystal-moon-101]

So I’ve got three AUs here with The Secret Generator 10 Trio, and I drew them all together because they are all connected based on the same idea. In these AUs, instead of receiving their powers from something, they are what their powers are. Basically, Zak is still Kur reborn, but was born a dragon who disguises himself as human, Rex is the Omega (His design is based off of my sentient Omega AU), and Ben is the Omnitrix who decide to become a living being, choosing a human body as his main form. I’ll go into a little more detail to explain each AU, and I hope you enjoy! If you have any questions about any of these AUs, don’t be shy to ask. 🧡 💙 💚 -Zur AU- In this world, Doc and Drew never had any biological kids, as Drew found she was unable to bare any. This did distraught the pair, as it had been one of their long life dreams, but they stayed strong and decided to focus on their work for a bit, deciding on future family stuff later.  Eventually, they came across the Kur Stone with the rest of the secret scientists, and as the story goes Argost snatched it, and the secret scientists rushed into Weird World to retrieve it, losing many of their teammates in the progress. But things take an interesting turn when taking the stone back to base. You see, as the scientists were discussing what to do, now understanding what the stone really was, they all suddenly heard a faint crack...then another, then a few more, and before anyone knew what was happening, the Kur stone slip, breaking open into four pieces as a tiny, baby, serpent-like dragon crawled out. That’s when they realized that the stone was not a stone, but rather an egg, and putting two and two together, the group assumed that this was Kur’s child. Of course, they freaked out, not wanting something tied to the being said to desire to kill all humans to be wandering around the lab, but their panic caused the little infant dragon to panic too, and a chase sparked, with the little dragon rushing around the labs to hide and keep away from these strange people. The young dragon was confused, as it didn’t understand what was wrong, why these people seemed so scared, though one of these people did catch his eye, the woman with white hair. He had seen her first when hatching, and developed this strange attachment to Drew. She ended up being the one to corner the baby, who came up with a...odd idea somehow. Reaching deep within himself, he found the ability to shapeshift into a human form (Albeit with dragon like features), basing features off of Drew and Doc. This caught the two off guard, especially when seeing bits and pieces of themselves in this child. At first they thought he was trying to trick them, but when they started clinging to Drew, something sparked in the two, this need to protect this young one, who had clearly bonded to them so fast (Drew was quick to scoop them up and be ready to tell the other scientist to a back off).  It was a longgggg discussion with the others, many having concerned and worries, but eventually it was agreed that they could not place Kur’s blame onto his offspring, as it was unfair, and since Drew and Doc handle cryptids for a living, it was best that they looked after him. So, they gave him the name Zak, and their little family began.   Now, Zak is very well aware of what he is and who he is, and is very grateful for his parents for taking him in, despite what he was. The main plot of the series would most likely be the same, with a few differences, like people like the Nagas and Argost eventually thinking that Zak is Kur’s son too. But then the twist eventually comes in that Zak isn’t Kur’s son, he is Kur himself, just reborn like a phoenix. This leads into Zak’s anxiety crises about who he really is and what he could do, just like in season 2.  Zak can also switch between his human form, and real dragon form, though he is able to summon parts of his dragon form, like wings or his tail, if that’s better to use at the moment. He’s quite the magpie too, often collecting ores, gems, jewelry and anything that catches his eye. His loves the outdoors quite a bit, and spends a lot of his time out in the woods or grass fields around his home, connecting with the local wildlife too. He’s also known to straight up hiss and growl, even in his human form.  -Omega Rex AU- After the failures of the Alpha project, the crew on the nanite project eventually moved onto the Omega project, which was being lead by not only Caesar, but his parents as well this time. Based on Alpha’s designs, tweaking them quite a bit, they eventually made Omega, a much more friendly and kinder version of Alpha. Omega started off as mostly robotic, being tested on and merely hanging around the labs until needed for something. But like all of Caesar’s project, things started to change, and Omega started to become something more. It was little things at first, Omega asking little questions, curious about the world and people in it. Then Omega started mimicking people, copying human mannerism and even style of speech. People caught on quick, and become a little nervous, given Alpha was kind of the same when he started to change and eventually go rouge. They kept an eye on Omega, making sure nothing went down hill, but instead they went an opposite direction, taking a more wonder filled out look on life, wanting to know a lot about life and what it meant to be living. There were mixed responses to this, some telling Omega that they were just a robot and nothing more, others wanting to see where this would go.   Omega seemed to follow three people the most, Caesar, Rylander and Van Kleiss, each peeking his interest in different ways, each one seeing and treating him differently. Caesar often regarded him as one of his great inventions, and was enjoying seeing where Omega was going, and how they were growing, and while there were moments that Caesar treated him a little more human they he would admit, he tried to keep it professional and just say Omega was a tool. Rylander was the kindness to Omega, and would be happy enough to answer their questions and let them understand life a little better, often thinking he saw a spark of a soul in Omega’s eyes from time to time. Van Kleiss was intrigued by Omega, especially when Omega seemed unphased by Van Kleiss’s off putting nature. Like Rylander, he was fine to answer him questions about the world and life, though his negative views on life due to past issues made things a little sad for Omega to hear, even trying to ‘comfort’ the man despite Van Kleiss telling him not too. Then, the nanite event happened. It all happened so fast, but that didn’t matter in the end as Omega awoke with no memories...not even their own name. Left wandering the world now being infested with EVOs, he eventually ran into the Hong Kong Gang one by one, where he started to developed a more teen like personality, and even got the name Rex from them. This made that desire to be something more, something alive, stronger, and that feeling stayed with them even after he left the group, lost his memories again, and got picked up by Six and Providence. At first, they had assumed he was an EVO, but once they realized he was something else, a living nanite it seems, they kept him around in hopes he could help, especially after seeing he could cure EVOs and talk to other nanites.  Rex is very curious, and still mimics quite a bit, you often seen him copying gestures from Six and Holiday. Not in a mocking way, but more so like a little kid taking after the adults around him. He’s still learning a lot about being ‘human’ so he does stumble quite a bit, doing things like saying a phrasing wrong, not understanding latest trends, and sometimes forgetting the body limits of a normal human. -Omni-Ben AU- While Azmuth was alone, isolating himself in his work for the Omnitrix, he eventually managed to complete it. However, while he was having it do some test runs and look overs to make sure it was ready, he came to find that the AI may have been a little more advance than he was expecting, for the next thing he new, the Omnitrix shapeshifted into the form of a 13 year old human male. Of course, being highly confused, Azmuth questioned his creation, and the Omnitrix explained that, after looking through the DNA is had, seeing all the different speices in the galaxy and seeing how they live, how they work, they wanted to be like that too, wanted to be alive and real. They had picked a human as their man form as they enjoyed the idea of how humans grow, how individualized they are as a species. Azmuth thought about it, but finally agreed to let the Omnitrix try this out. For the next two years, still living in isolation, Omnitrix and Azmuth started up a simple life living together, Omnitrix even calling him father, which Azmuth was fine with and grew accustomed to. However, Azmuth never let Omnitrix out of the lab/base, for he feared what was out there that could try and use his creation for awful things, and with the Omnitrix alive and sentient, it made that fear worse. But, of course, things couldn’t stay the same forever, as one day Vilgax came knocking and demanded the Omnitrix. Azmuth was quick to tell his creation to flee, despite the Omnitrix’s hesitation. But, unable to deny orders from his father, the Omnitrix fleed as Vilgax followed after, taking Azmuth as his prisoner just in case.   Needing somewhere to hide or run too, the Omnitrix thought back to some of Azmuth’s stories, recalling the tale about a human called Max Tennyson, who had once defeated Vilgax, and was well known by the Plumbers. Given the Omnitrix had a human form, and knowing Max’s history with the Plumbers and Vilgax, he decided to find him, making his way to earth and crashing there. He had been following Max’s Plumber signal (Which was in the rust bucket), and ended up being found by Gwen, who took him to Grandpa Max. After explaining his situation, Max agrees to help, and after some debate, Gwen could come too.  The three begin to travel across the USA, going to old Plumber bases to collected needed weapons as Vilgax was on their tale, and looking for help in the matter. Needing to blend in with humans, Gwen helped Ben get an outfit that could hide him (Not quite the one up above), and used some make up along with an eye contact to cover up anything he couldn’t remove from himself, and eventually gave him the name Ben. Ben is quite...alien, for lack of a better term. Given he was isolated with Azmuth his entire life, there’s a lot he needs to learn and understand. He is quite smart and quick to pick up on things, but does stumble up in the moment. He’s found that the world outside it quite big, bigger than he realized, and now he’s experience so much, even new emotions he thought he never had, but...he does wanna see more of the world and what it has to offer.