#how he dealt with the whole. metal face thing

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

release!!!!!! the kiss cut!!!!!!!!

[ctheathy]

Yandere Miles “Nine” Prower Headcanons

Nine x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Author’s note : Here’s the Nine hcs I promised!! Hope you enjoy these little double trouble posts <3<3

The original post with yandere Miles [Where Was My Hero?] + Similarities ➷

Nine/Reader [Romantic//Platonic]

+Slight WWMH Tails x Reader in bonus section [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs ⚠️ :

Fiercely overprotective behaviour • Slight anger issues • Severe trust issues • Slight delusional mindset • Anxiety • Jealousy • Emotional dependency • Descriptions of bullying • Nine is somewhat snappy

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Nine is a mobian who grew up mainly reclusive throughout his life until you decided to come around. Having dealt with severe bullying alongside the obvious loneliness through the years having caused in quite the instinctive distrust, and the amount of time he’s kept himself isolated in his underground workshop not helping with his antisocial behaviour in the slightest. No matter how the two of you would have met, it’s likely going to start off with you finding yourself intrigued by the nine-tailed presence. Perhaps you are a naturally doting individual, felt mesmerised by the uniqueness of the extra metallic tails, found his aura lure you in, or something else completely; But whatever is was, something you hadn’t realised is that this had caused in unintentional staring, unknowingly pushing attention onto the fox. And Nine, being the rather defensive spirit he is, would immediately assume the worst and take offense to this; resulting in you being cruelly confronted and perhaps even attacked, demanding answers for the unwanted observation. But the harmless intend you had behind your interest was quite literally the last thing he would have expected to occur.

The yellow furred fox has lacked normal interaction for a very long time, so when you start to compliment him to no end, he feels a slight sense of awkwardness, not used to the tender gestures you offered and praise slipping off’ another’s tongue so easily. It made him feel different... yet it somehow gave him a sense of closure with your words in particular. Which was surprising to him to say the least, especially as it had almost made him forget he was literal seconds away from clawing your face open with the metal tips of his tails. He knew he had met oddballs before, but you truly took it to a whole nother level. Though trust still wouldn’t be the exact wording to describe his current state right at that time, as he obviously still holds his suspicions, but your comments had certainly shut him up for a while. He would clam up and just stare at you wide eyed as you excitedly circled your way around him, not knowing what on Mobius to do about this situation. But little did he know that this would be the mere start of a dangerous soft spot starting to develop.

Though you had gotten out of harm’s way at first meeting, unfortunately for your case, this has not stopped him from continuously trying to push you away at first hand; he still thinks you’re weird... Rarely anybody had gone out of their ways to even speak to him if it wasn’t for harassment reasons, much less pamper him like you do-! He’d likely remain to add in on snarky comments, hoping it could scare you off one way or another. But even something that caught up with him over time was the realisation that despite your affectionate demeanour being quite the irritation to him at times, for some damned reason he just couldn’t dare to lay a finger on you with harmful intend. When questioned, he’d often just end up telling you and perhaps even himself that it’s purely due to the fact that you lack fighting experience and are rather delicate for your kind, giving him the opportunity to indirectly insult you once again, even if he realistically just can’t get himself to hurt you.

Another awkward one when it comes to your doting nature, but unaware of the emotional attachment that is slowly starting to form within his own mind. He’d find the growing fixation with you to be strange and uncanny to him, most likely behaving fairly cold torwards you in response, trying to reason with himself. He knows he’s more than capable taking care of himself, so why does he legit feel as if he’s dying when lacking your presence? Even his companionship with Sonic paled in comparison to what he felt torwards you. Over time he’d start noticing how much more numb he operates when you’re not around. Even when including subjects that would usually excite the fox, it’s almost as if it lost all meaning to him. It honestly being a surprise to even him how quickly attached he had gotten

For a certain while, he would even just put the blame on you for creating these changes in him so frequently; feeling as if he could have kept all his focus on a future surrounding his mechanical work until you and your mesmerising tactics came around. But this wouldn’t exactly stick with him for long, cause in the end he would really just put the accountability on himself for not escaping these sentiments while he had the chance, realising it to be irrational to blame you for something out of your control now. Even at this rate, finding himself at a dead end right about now, it really just results in a switch being flipped around inside of him; a little bit of hope wanting to give these said alliances one single try to work out for the both of you.

At first the fascination with you happened to be nothing but guilt-free, it even having been considerable as wholesome in a way. He’d especially invite you over to his workshop a lot, seeming to be incredibly thrilled telling you all about everything he’s learned over the years and show you the latest inventions he’s been working on. It almost had felt as if these moments in particular were slowly starting to recover the inner child of his that he’s lost track off a long time ago. But something you didn’t know about was the unwell side to this that also just so happened to be in growth. You’d find yourself spending more and more time in his workshop, weirdly after Nine had decided upon giving you an one hour talk on why the place was more trustable than any other out there; lecturing you without true purpose and trying to get his said conclusions across. You cannot remember when you’ve last seen the outside world, but you trust Nine. Surely you could take his word for anything ... Right?

He would be especially starved for your praise and appreciation, finding himself melting right on the spot when even just a simple compliment gets tossed his way. When being an individual who is gentle with their wording, he really takes everything that leaves your mouth to heart; but there remains a risky segment to this. Just due to how accustomed he can get to your encouragement, he can easily be put in a state of fraught when the amount of it has been too little for his liking. This also being the exact little push in making him contribute in acts that could potentially be considered as dangerous for as long as it catches your attention. He also gets severely apprehensive and rather uneasy when you need to leave his workplace for personal reasons; his anxiety being very much capable to be pushed torwards a full-on panic attack in no time. This would likely end up in him questioning the point behind their wanted leave and instead offering to do the job for them, which would eerily sound more like a demand than anything else. When the offer is insisted, however; he’ll still go with you, no questions asked, being fearful for your welfare and literally snarling at those who even dare getting too close.

If danger were to fall on you, he would absolutely lose his mind. He’s already naturally protective of those who earned his approval, and he truly expects himself to be ready for anything that could be causing them potential harm; so when a hit still does manage to strike you, it makes him feel distraught and genuinely terrified for once in a while. He believes himself to be pathetic in a way, failing in your safety despite having made a strict promise to himself to keep your fragile self in high priority. He also tends to become extremely discomposed when something like this manages to happen, which would be somewhat surprising to say the least, as he’s usually pretty collected of himself. In a scenario like this he would get on the paranoid side when it comes to your welfare; literally demanding you to remain in Sonic’s eyesight while he takes care of the little nuisance... Despite the connection that’s grown between the two, he wouldn’t even trust Sonic much when it comes to your sake, but it would have to do for now. He’d for sure go out of his way to hunt down whoever the fool was that decided to inflict harm upon you, may that be in secretive or through whatever means; he will get them to be at his mercy and he will make them pay for their unjustified actions. Not giving much care torwards his own physical self and energy levels when it comes to that; avenging you through pure wrath just to prove himself to you.

Despite the aggression tendencies he may experience from time to time, he certainly isn’t one to harm his darling in any way possible. The least that could happen is a screaming outbreak being shown and him acting somewhat snappy torwards you for a day or so, but even these are extremely rare experiences; only really happening if you continuously push his buttons and try to get on his nerves by will. And even so, he just couldn’t get himself to remain mad at you

As mentioned before, other than his overprotective demeanour, Nine honestly just makes himself out to be rather cool and perhaps even cold torwards his darling at first hand, despite it under the surface being much closer to the complete opposite. This also includes in not realising how much it could actually affect both the relationship between one another and perhaps even the darling themselves if they just so happen to be a sensitive soul. But even that little facade of his gets crumbled into bits real fast when one small tiny hunch of you wanting to leave finds itself into the picture. When given the hint that you want a break, he becomes a mess. In a sense of recollection, Nine would overextend himself and work himself to exhaustion in order to get you to come back with him. This often ending up in fighting everything and anyone to obtain items as a peace offering, believing apologies by word to be far too insignificant.

May that not work? He might already just be on the mere verge of snapping himself. He almost becomes a whole nother mobian when out in this state, his emotions and his true instability starting to show. He feels a dreadful sense of desperation, one he absolutely doesn’t wish to remind himself of; but at this stage, he’d honestly take anything as long as it could prevent your leave. He would hunt you down, literally feeling as if he’s on his knees at this point. Overwhelming his darling with the unsanitary desperation lingering in his eyes as his broken tone burns its way through their ear canal, all while practically being pinned to a nearby wall. And when having them cornered like this, he doesn’t even give his darling a way to respond torwards the situation to begin with. Because as much as he wants to deny it, he wouldn’t even take a no as an answer anymore; giving them absolutely zero opportunity to make the choices of their own will and putting an end to the entire conflict finding himself in your arms, despite how you would’ve had a clear expression of both disapproval and discomfort plastered on your face. Honestly making you wonder whenever he truly wasn’t aware of your squirming form under his touch or if was his selfishness who simply made him uncaring torwards it.

Neither of the two being too far out of reach fromout your perspective.

Bonus section #2 : Differences

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To understand the changes they have between one another, it’s important to take note of the one thing that sets them apart from eachother in the first place. It’s accurate the particular state was caused by Sonic not being there for them when they needed it most, but the actual difference between the two would be their eventual responses torwards the mistreatment they’ve faced; ultimately Nine started fighting back all by himself, while for Miles’s case ... he literally snapped. Their current positions in their timelines would hold quite the difference as well; Miles’ mental state being the more unfavourable one out of the two, and having even worsened so as the years went on, while Nine’s weaker side would include his emotional state.

While Miles was closer to wanting to prove his worth to the world in the end, Nine would rather be captivated by the idea of getting back the youth he never had, returning those connections in his life that he’s always lacked. His desperation levels also lingering a lot higher than those of Miles do. But despite this, which may even come by surprise; out of the two, I can still see Nine being the more stable one, genuinely wanting to keep himself on proper levels of behaviour stability and the severity of poor choice making being a whole lot less. Unlike Miles, he knows and understands the differences between wrong and right; and though these could sometimes be infringed due to his emotions taking a toll on him, he deserves a whole lot more credit on atleast trying to keep himself restrained in instability matters. A negative part on his side, however, is how much more dependent emotionally he can become on a darling who holds a sweet demeanour torwards him. Though being one who tends to be calm and mature for his age, due to him having lacked a responsible role model growing up, I can also see him becoming reliant on his darling’s decisions and personal view on things, making him even more vulnerable torwards his obsession.

While Miles would usually just be one to showcase the roots of his thoughts and emotions without a speck of shame or reconsideration noticeable in there, Nine would definitely be the one who’s a whole lot more closeted with how he truly feels. He’s just been hurt so many times that it’s rather become a strong habit for self protection more than anything else, it being no doubt that he has major trust issues to work on. Though right at the same time, both remain to put a lot of faith in their darling, but for different reasons. Nine��s high hopes laying torwards the beliefs that his darling won’t just betray and leave him behind with the reliance he has on them, while Miles’ complexity rather being his trust that his darling shall be able to purify the unfair planet, much like he believes that they did to him.

An important opportunity Miles never got was much like with Sonic, Nine would specifically offer you the creation of a world with just the two of you, except this time it would very much be by will. A place where he’ll finally be happy and given the freedom he never had, one where absolutely nobody can seperate the both of you or bring your life into any considered danger. One where he could completely put his fate into your bare hands. A place better than New Yoke City or even Green Hill or any other universe could ever be-! No matter how long the both of you would have moved on from past occurrences surrounding the Prism Shard, Nine remains to be on edge ever since, as he surely doesn’t trust any dimension out there to be good enough for your sake. The only suggestion seeming to be acceptable to him being a world created from his own hands, truly believing you to desire the exact same thing.

Making him not understand why the tears keep rolling down your cheeks in acknowledgement to his masterwork.

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[missmarveledsblog]

Not just a flower child huh ? (Logan Howlett x reader ) part 10

summary : logan was never a religious man but he was praying more for the life he wanted most ... hers

warning: character death , feelings of guilt , angst , some good parts though

previous part

Religion , The whole God thing , it was never a thing with him  and if was to believe he would class himself as one of the damned souls just living til the day the devil would come collect .  But now in this moment he was hoping there was a god and for once the big guy in the sky wasn’t ignoring him , wasn’t ignoring his pleading soul for just one thing  , just one thing was all he asks for and will never ask for again . that was not to take her away , not to take the woman he love , the one that made his live some meaning .  she lay soaked and limp  the color drained from her body and her lips turning blue as he kept pumping . she should be like him what did they do to her to make this is impossible and god help the bastard if she didn’t come back , god help them all if he was taken . he didn’t hear them come , didn’t hear the  footstep of his friend or their gasp  , “ please” for rogues mouth  and tears falling down their cheek . what he did hear was “ the collar , take the collar off logan “ how did he miss it , a growl from his lips , this time they really did make her like an animal  as he snapped the metal from her neck and the hands replacing his own on her chest .  that look on jeans face the determination to get her friend back to give a chance to someone who dealt with the wrong side of the deck in life .  the room was silent all waiting on baited breathe . stryker went to move went to fly when he thought they were distracted only for a red beam mere inches from his head it singed the hairs there . 

“ you wanna hope she wakes up “ scott jaw clench and he spat the word with such venom. 

Then  it was like someone finally heard him , someone finally was giving him what he wanted as the coughs and splutters came from her mouth and the panting and gasps for oxygen hit the air. Eyes beginning to open and groans and whimpers of pain  and the collect breathes being realized around the room . it was all fuzzy and blurry , her throat burned and  took a bit for her eyes to focus on the blurry blobs but it was the scent that had her hand reaching for him . maybe she did die and this was her heaven in some way .  til he pulled her off the ground and crashing to his chest holding her close as he possible could  her hands gripping his shirt , skin anything it could to feel him under her touch .  

“ come on lets get you out of here” he whispered lifting her up and she clung to him afraid of him letting go as if it would be some trick of her subconscious . finding it hard to decipher if it was reality or not til she was looking in  the eyes of the monster how nervous and scared he looked . what happens when you corner a rat .. well they will attack to  get free  she saw it the gun pointing directly them…. No it was pointed at him before anyone could take what was happening she shot her palm up  it felt different  not the same way it usually did when they would come this time it hurt as she screamed and the silver metal glint shot from her hand and towards the man only it did it pierced him instead of wrapping around him hitting his  chest as  she instantly recoil back into  her skin sending him to the ground as his blood wiped across his skin . the gun falling with a clatter .  they didn’t need to check him to know that stryker was dead the gaping hole where his heart was.

putting an end to a man who tormented the mutants of the world , the man who tormented the man she love and the man whole stole her childhood .

“ i was trying .. i was - i was trying to  stop him not hurt him” her lip trembled as her body shook .

“ we know sweetheart come on we get you out of this hell hole” he whispered as she cried into his chest . they all followed out silent as the only sound that could be heard was her muffled sobs  . she felt a hand softly rubbing her back as she pulled back turned to see her brother sad expression on his face she turned hugging him tightly still in the comfort of logan hold til he let go letting the sibling reunite once again as much as he wanted to keep her in his arms . she cried harder in her brothers hands the woman following in makeshift cuffs guilt all and slight relief on her face . 

The air , the feeling of finally being free as  they exit the building , her eyes once more being able to see the beauty of the world , once more seeing the stars that littered the sky .  she was finally let down taking unsure steps on shaky legs as she walked to the  jet the sad smile on charles face as she looked to the opening door rushing to another she feared she would never see again hugging him tightly . 

“ my dear we got you , let get you home ” was all he said as the rest stepped aboard. 

Maybe he was being selfish but the whole time he was stuck to her side afraid to be mere inch away incase she was somehow gone again , he was never so scared to lose a person before as logan held her the hole time rubbing her head or back as the rest of the team hugged and kissed her thankful to have her back with them .  when they got back to the school the kids stood at the door the moment she came off that jet the sprinted towards her nearly  tripping each other and themselves to get to the one they love the most , the one who kept them safe for so long .  they could see it her hesitant touch almost scared incase she hurt them  til she couldn’t hold back , wrapping her arms around them all kissing there heads , teary smile on her face as the woman watched she barely even realized her mothers presences  or she choose not to  she may of not wanted to see the woman hurt but it didn’t mean it changed anything , she would never forgive her or her now late father .   logan once more scooped her up in his arms carrying her into the mansion , into the school and once more home . she changed and shower the smell of food made her stomach grumble and growl as she seen the big pot knowing the comfort food was made once more. 

Weeks of freedom and yet it didn’t feel it she began withdrawing , keeping herself in the confines of her room not wanting to  see or talk anyone . another life taken by her hands whether in defense or protection of another it still was a life . even if it was the monster that taunted and tortured her nearly all the years she lived on this earth it was still a life . in her mind she was no better , she was the monster that hurt anything she touched . it seemed the adamantium stuck to her vines as it attached to her skeleton  and it pierced through her skin each time , each time it hurt as they came out maybe she would get used to it in time and yet she couldn’t bare thinking of using them again knowing the last time ended so badly. She ignored the knocks and calls of her friends, even the kids she couldn’t bear to hurt them after everything they've been through already and she couldn’t live with herself if she did hurt them .  she heard the door unlocking not once moving from her spot on the bed  that now permanently had the grove of her body imprinted in the springs . 

“ it’s locked for a reason” she croaked. 

“  you thoughts are too loud my dear and i cannot standby and watch you blame yourself any more “ charles came closer to the bed . 

“ you can’t stand either way “she mumbled. 

“ attacking me isn’t going to make me go away plus i’ve heard worse” he chuckled . “ you didn’t mean to do what you did and yes it was something that is not easy but you need to stop blaming yourself , we all love and care for you so much my dear and it pains us all to see you in such a way “.

“ what if i hurt someone here , you , the kids , i didn’t even want to hurt stryker” she sniffled finally looking at him, he could see the dark circle under her eyes , shallowness of her skin and  knowing she barely ate . 

“ we can help with that , we have something , it’s like that collar but it’s painless but will help keep the powers under control til you can control it yourself would you like to come and see “ he asked softly watching and hearing her think it over before she finally nodded . she stood  walking almost baring not to see anyone well til she saw logan standing there his hand outstretched as she shook her head scared of what she could do they walked done side by side almost touching and yet so far . he never left her  she knew that his scent coming through the door or the hushed voices .  jean and hank smiling as she entered the lab  , in jeans hand was like a bracelet . 

“ it’s nicer looking than that collar too but works in more humane way “ she stood forward as y/n stood back , flinching when the red heads hands came near her gentle touch as the bracelet secure on her hand . 

“ there you go and then when your ready we can help work on your control yourself but let be real you’ll pick it up easily” jean winked. 

“ i feel like i’m missing something here” logan asked confused. 

“ well before… everything  when missy here was bored we decided to give her some tests .. academic ones  and seems as our own little form of mother nature here is a brainbox” hank smiled proudly . 

“ can we get out of here please” she asked holding his hand once knowing it was safe to do so .  “ labs still not my favorite place more so now” she added . 

“ come on sweetheart” he  wrapped his arm around her shoulder holding her close now he could now she wasn’t  moving from his touch . it kill him when she locked herself away , how she blamed herself for something that wasn’t her fault and he could still see that blame it would take awhile and patience but for her  he had it. 

Over days slowly she was coming out of her room more  , sitting in the living room or with the kids . more confident of the bracelet ensuring the safety of everyone around her . she missed it so much , missed everyone so much . her brother told her their mother was brought to a high secure prison for what she did and handed her a letter  she put in her pocket for a time when she was ready . she notice henry still not a word from the boys mouth even since she was home and more guilt hit her  the closing herself must of had them wondering what they did . his little hand was always in hers , she often had to bring him to bed and promise to get him the next morning . his face when she did too  like he was relieved to see she was still there . the nightmares never stopped  as she found herself walking to the kitchen only this time it wasn’t just logan  turning as it was four little heads joining him  well five with bub and his bowl .

“ you should be a sleep all of you” she arched her brow yet the smile on her face made them giggle. 

“ hey they wanted to see what fuss was “ he shrugged drinking the amber liquid and they drank their milk .   

“I suppose it ok this one time but drink that milk and go to bed “ she shook her head as they all groaned . 

“ night “ she called as they pouted walking past. 

“ night mama “ henry called as she froze . 

“ n-n-night “ she called back looking back at logan before walking over and talking the glass and downing it. 

“ you ok?” he chuckled  filling the glass only for her to down it again .  “ i mean is it really that surprising they think of you that way “ he asked more softly moving the bottle  as her hand was reaching it .

“ but a mother they see me as mother not sister ….   I have no experience with parent my own are well you know “ she gasped . 

“ and yet you done it in captivity like a natural  .. you know what i mean look you can talk to them and tell them you aren’t there mother but anyone with eyes could see it  even here you quick to check on them all the kid but mostly them four and they were completely lost when you were gone well not the only ones “ . 

“ my brother if he calls me mother i will laugh” she snorted . 

“ no smart ass me  i was lost hell i was ready to turn the world upside down to get you back home , i don’t know  well i do know .. shit this is hard to explain because well i never felt this way which is odd because i’ve been alive so long.. Yeah let not dive into that “ he laughed nervously . the big bad wolverine stumbling and rambling like a nervous idiot before her making her bit her lower lip to suppress the amusement fighting through .  “ even that drives me crazy cause all i wanna do is kiss you  and i’m trying to be patient not rush you but shit you drive me crazy  like i can’t  be away from you  and even when i do sleep your  last thing on my mind and first when i open my eyes , the moment i saw you  you had this pull and hold on me “ he sliding up hold her face at she leaned into the touch .  “even this rambling like a hallmark idiot is something i never thought i would be doing but i guess as cheesy as this is gonna sound what you do when you completely and utterly in love “ his voice hushed almost a whisper as she was staring up into his eyes ,into his soul . 

“ please dont be patient  not now “ she smiled leaning up inches from his lips that he could feel the heat of her breathe and who was he to deny the one he loved her request, moving so slightly as it was soft , gentle something he never found himself capable of doing  and yet he kissed her like she was made of glass his hand on her cheek as the other found it home in her hair pulling her closer if he could . the soft touches as he was guiding her with his lips tongue swiping  wanting, needing to gain the entrance she so easily submitted . it was slow , sensual and filled with love til the clearing of a throat made her squeak and move back both turning to see a smug scott standing arms crossed . 

“ about time jesus … also not on the counter we eat here” he added getting the glass of water he originally came for not expecting a show even though he was teasing he was happy for his friends . 

“ he’s got a point” was all logan said before scooping her up in his arms as she yelp and giggled down the hall . 

�� kids “ scott smiled as he headed back to his room 

 The moment the door  of her room close as bub little head lifted up before  back down again . both lips finding each other , exploring the new found shift in the dynamic between , savoring the taste and touch of the other . it it was a dream neither of them wanted to wake up. It was like she was addicted to the feeling of him already  hands feeling the expanse of the white vest feeling the muscle tense and flex under her touch as a sound she never knew came out of her mouth making her wide eyes and pull back before two laughed . 

“ i ‘m crazy in love with you too if it wasn’t clear before “ she smiled words breathless whispers as she felt her hands wrapping around his shoulders . 

“ well guess mean you’ll be my girl right?” he asked peppering her face with kisses . 

“ logan i think i was always your girl since the moment we met  “ she kissed his lips .

“ i know i just wanted to say it out loud “ he winked as she slapped his chest . “ my girl … see so good to say “ he smiled kissing her lips. 

“ not just a flower chid huh?”

taglist : @oscarissac2099 @ayamenimthiriel @mega-kittyglitter-1 @britttzy267

A.N : Sadly it is the end of the series and a big thank you to all that enjoy it writing this was so fun and loved bringing the og xmen back to life in a way , now if anyone wants one shots or drabbles from these two feel free to ask in the request box but as for the series i think it best to leave on such a sweet note again thank you all ❤️❤️❤️

[cryptidsofwakemoor]

Chapter 10 - Paranoia

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that."

~*~

Mystic

Tikki works on her own omelet in comfortable silence, letting her guest relax by the fire while she filled her own egg patty with her additions of choice. Once her folded egg taco was on the plate, she drizzled some kind of red liquid over top of it, and took up those metal tools he could never quite understand the purpose of. Lifting her plate, she goes to sit at the couch, and- uses the tiny knife and spoked thing to poke and cut her omelet, eating it off the utensils.

Oh. That’s what they were for. She didn’t need to get food on her hands at all.

…

“Have you been on the streets your whole life?” Tikki asks, quiet.

Spooky

He looks up from watching her cut the omelet and poke it with the pronged thing, before frowning a little and shaking his head no.

No, being on the streets was a relatively new thing for him. In a way, he had kind of lucked out that adaptability was part of his training, otherwise he may not've survived very long, but... This probably wasn't what they had in mind while training him. It was more for use in battle.

He glances down at the floor in front of him, wishing he still had the snow and stick to help him explain things. The best thing he could do for now, though, was try and sum up everything he could into one word, and force it out of his uncooperative throat.

"L.. ll- laa... b," he rasps, looking back at her.

Mystic

Tikki, who had been mid-bite of her own omelet, chokes on the piece of food. She has to pound on her chest for a second before the food is dislodged, and she can breathe again.

In just one word, that was- quite a bit of information to swallow. Just like her omelet.

"I'm- hkf- sorry," Tikki apologizes, rubbing at her throat for a moment. "You- wh- but- how-? You came from a lab? Excuse me? As in- wait-"

She frowns, staring into space. He can see it in her eyes- she was putting together a lot of puzzle pieces. She sets aside the plate, losing her appetite in this moment.

"...that- suddenly a lot of things make sense. But- why were you in a lab?"

Spooky

He looked alarmed when she choked on her food, but once she'd dealt with that enough to ask him more questions, he ducked his head slightly and slid his hand over the nape of his neck. He gave a small shrug, mainly because he didn't know how he'd got there. He couldn't really remember being anywhere else, leading him to think that maybe he was born there…? Though there were some things he could just barely recall that seemed to contradict that.

He knew what trees were, before he’d even escaped. They'd never let him outside, not once, but he could picture outside, sometimes in dreams... And there were other things, too. Faded voices and shapes, and strong emotions attached that left him feeling lost, scared, and like he'd been hollowed out whenever he thought about it too hard.

So usually, he didn't.

All he had for an answer as to why he was there was what they were developing him for.

"...w... wepn," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact and looking back at the burning fireplace.

Mystic

...There's a long pause.

Even though he wasn't facing her, he could feel her eyes boring into him. Analyzing.

Behind his back, the scales on the back of Tikki's arm start to stand on end. She clasps at her forearms with her hands, clenching her jaw as she wills the beast back into the depths, forcing the scales back down.

The thought, and all the implications it carried, made her so, so angry. But she just got back to normal from a shift- if she let it happen again so soon, it would exhaust her. She'd be so depleted of energy that she wouldn't want to move for a week, and she wasn't in a position to let that happen anymore.

"...Okay," she says, finally. A brief, forceful exhale as she quells her outrage for his sake. "I see why you ran away, now."

Tikki puts her chin in one hand, thinking. Then her eyes flick to the door. Then back to him in worry.

"...Am I gonna get in trouble with the law or something if someone finds out you're in my house? Are YOU in trouble with whoever you ran from?"

Not that she was particularly bothered by the idea of someone reprehensible showing up at the door. She'd welcome the opportunity to feed someone a knuckle sandwich and have it be sweet justice. But not at the cost of somebody else being put in danger.

Spooky

Feeling her staring, he glanced back at her, worried he'd made her angry at him. He could sense the tension, and his eyes turned downwards as he fidgeted with his hands.

Her questions didn't assuage his nerves any, either... because he had, if only for a brief time due to the distractions and curious things in this house, forgotten he was being hunted.

He was hesitant to answer, worried that confirming this fact would get him thrown out. Tikki was nice, but to get involved in anything like this seemed like too much to ask of anyone.

He didn't know what this 'law' was, but he knew the Aria Corporation was big, and they had a lot of resources. Hell, their damn logo still haunted him whenever he sneaked into town, never truly letting him forget that he wasn't safe.

...It wasn't fair not to tell her, though. To not at least try and warn her about what she was getting into if she let him stay in her home.

Looking conflicted, he finally nodded. Setting aside his disc, he reached down and tried to trace a shape on the rug with his finger, but it wasn't very clear.

Mystic

A long, sad sigh.

"...ok. I figured."

Tikki glances at the rug, leaning to see what he was drawing- but she couldn't make anything out from here. Hm. Maybe he was just doodling from the stress. She did sorta put him on the spot, all of the sudden.

"...well, I'm not going to just let you freeze to death in the snow," she says, frowning. "And whoever uses a kid test subject for scientific experiments is super fucked up, I'll tell you that."

Standing up from the couch, she moves to sit on the rug next to him, scooting a bit closer so she's near enough for expression of comfort, but just at the edge of his personal space. She looks down at the carpet as she talks, idly trying to decipher his finger-drawing on the floor.

"I don't have much to offer, Sticks. I do have a roof, and food, sometimes. I don't make a lot of money, and I'm dealing with my own demons- but I'd still like to help you, somehow. If you want it?"

Spooky

He doesn't seem able to get the tracing of his finger across, so he stops. The best that could be deciphered from it was that he seemed to be writing an 'A' for part of it. If he was trying to make a word, though, the rest of the scrawl was incomprehensible. There didn't seem to be any other letters, and even the A was kind of questionable.

He looked unsure at her offer, not because he was keen on turning his figurative nose up at it though. Moreso, he was worried. She already had stress from turning into the silver beast, and didn't have much money, and... he didn't know what 'demons' were, but that didn't sound good either.

...

But at the same time, he didn't wanna go back to taking his chances in that hole in the ground. Not after he knew what being in a warm house on a soft rug, with not one but TWO blankets was like.

His eyes searched her expression. She really did seem to want to help...

He hugged his pillow close and gave a little nod, before resting his chin on it.

Mystic

He feels more than sees her hand clasp onto his shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance before letting go.

"Okay," she says, offering him a little smile. "I'll do what I can."

Tikki leans back to the couch again, and takes her plate with the half-eaten omelet. She sets it on the carpet and slides it over to him, letting it rest by his knee.

"Here- you can have the rest of mine. I wasn't very hungry, anyway."

A lie. Shifting consumed a lot of calories she had to replenish, which she had every intention of doing so later when he was asleep or something. But right now, she lost her appetite. At least this way the food wouldn't go to waste.

Tikki stands up, stretching her shoulders and wiggling her webbed toes.

"I don't know a lot about you, and that's fine- you don't have to share what you don't want to." Tikki scratches behind her head, starting back towards the kitchen to start cleaning. "Just let me know how I can best help you, alright?"

Spooky

He looked from the offered omelet half to her, before he picked it up with his hand and stuffed it in his mouth, licking the remaining red sauce off his fingers. This had a different taste than his, but was still good!

He didn't seem as keen to get up, covered in fluffy blankets as he was. While he wasn't full, his stomach was no longer empty, and going from being outside in the snow with almost no clothes for most of the day to taking a hot bath and sitting all bundled up next to a roaring fireplace... Sleepiness was definitely setting in, and his eyelids drooped.

He nodded in response to her, rubbing at one of his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Th... thanks," he said, straining to try and be louder since she had walked back to the kitchen. Oof, probably wasn't the best idea. Fuck, he wished he could figure out how to fix his broken voice. It'd been a long time since he'd heard what it sounds like normally, but he knew it wasn't supposed to sound like this.

Mystic

Tikki glances back in his direction at the sound of the voice crack. Ouch. That sounded very unpleasant. Did speaking cause him pain? Maybe his throat was damaged from... whatever happened to him in the 'lab'.

She tried not to think about it. He wasn't there, now.

"It's no trouble," she says, offering another smile as she removes the pan to wash it. "Nobody should have to live on the street- especially not kids."

In the background, Tikki quietly goes about making some hot apple cider. It was just a cheap packet mix, but it was easy, and fast. The water boils gently on the stove while she cleans up the containers of omelet fillings, and puts away all the washed dishes once she'd dried them with a kitchen towel.

She is left to ponder in silence for a while. He'd never seen silverware, didn't know how to feed or take care of himself. Laboratories that tested on humans- at least, he might be human, she really wasn't sure- evidently still existed, and were doing shady shit like turning children into weapons. That was the most she could ascertain from his broken speech and limited information. Whoever was responsible, they were probably out looking for this kid. And if she was caught with him in custody, if she was lucky, she'd be left alone- but he would no doubt be taken back to whatever hell he endured.

She had seen the rocky injuries all over his back. She couldn't begin to comprehend what would cause that. It looked a little better after he was able to bathe, but there was still a substantial amount of rock crust covering his spine. She was hesitant to touch it, or ask about it in case it was sensitive.

Steam hisses from the kettle, and she turns off the stove burner. Water is poured into mugs, and Tikki shakes out the cider mix into the mugs, pouring honey into both. Stirring them with spoons, she walks back out into the living room to check on him.

"I've got hot cider, for your throat," she says, rounding the couch.

Spooky

He looked like he'd gone into almost a kind of sleepy trance, watching the flames dance on the logs...

But he perked back up a little when Tikki returned with- Oh! He'd seen these before, sometimes he would see people at the lab walking or standing around with these little handled cylinders in their hands, usually in the hallways when he was being transported to another area. He never knew what was in them, but they had a nice smell...

These smelled good too, but in a different way. When Tikki handed one over to him, he took it and held it in both hands, peering down at the unfamiliar drink. Unsure how to proceed, he dipped his tongue into it to give it a taste.

Mystic

The immediate taste was sweet, with a hint of spice that wasn't quite the same as the red thing he ate earlier. What did Tikki call it? 'Pepper'? This was different. It was hot, though, and the little bit he managed to swallow off his own tongue actually soothed his aching throat a little, more than water had up until this point.

Tikki, seeing this, chuckles into her own mug that she had just lifted to her face.

"Okay, that was pretty cute," she says, snickering. "And you have a lava tongue?? Weird, and cool. But yeah- you drink it like this."

Tikki demonstrates, holding the mug in her hands up to her chin and tipping it back a little, taking a gulp of the liquid inside before tipping it back down, swallowing with a satisfied exhale.

"It has honey in it, which is a natural remedy for throat problems," she explains, sipping more of her own drink before continuing. "I've had to use it before when shifting damaged my voice for a day or two. Should help, I think. And if it gets too cold, you can always reheat it."

Spooky

He flushed with a faint glow at her comments, but did his best to mimic the demonstration, slowly tipping and attempting a sip with a noisy slurp.

...Holy shit! A way to drink without getting it all over himself! He looked down at the mug with big eyes full of wonder. This was awesome!

He was quick to drink the rest of it down, steam spilling from his mouth when he lowered the mug and exhaled afterwards. The honey coated his throat, making it feel less sore after his attempts to talk. His glowing tongue poked out again, licking his lips.

Mystic

Another chuckle from Tikki.

"I mean this in the best way- you're like a big puppy," she jokes, watching the steam puff up towards her ceiling. "A lanky, fire-breathing puppy."

Sipping her cider, she sighs, getting up from the carpet one last time.

"You look ready to pass out, so I'm going to let you rest. You can use the couch, or stay on the carpet, whatever you feel like- sleep well, Sticks."

And with that, she walks off to the rest of her house, presumably to wind down for the rest of her afternoon. It wasn't far past midday, but she'd had an exhausting morning, and she figured he did as well.

Spooky

His expression briefly turned to confusion as he tried to figure out what a puppy was, but he shrugged it off, setting down the now empty mug. He was very sleepy, and probably would've been content to just sleep next to the fireplace, though without anything to prop him up he kept slowly listing to the side until he'd jerk back upright with a start.

He let out a tired grumble and crawled like a blankety slug across the floor until he was at the couch, where he leaned back against the side of it. It was definitely softer than the dirt had been, and the blankets added extra cushioning. Hugging the pillow close, he curled up and rested his head on it, so cozy that he drifted off in no time.

...

"You really thought you could just leave... Didn't you?"

His eyes shot open at the familiar cold voice of the ponytailed man, Dr. Rainer... but he didn't see him anywhere when he looked around the living room. It was nighttime now and the fireplace had gone out, bathing the room in darkness, and any warmth seemed to have been sucked out of the house along with it.

Then, a red dot appeared in the window. Followed by another, then another, and they continued to multiply until they were peering in through every window, swarming, a buzzing sound reverberating off the walls and leaving him rattled. Drones.

With a smash of glass they set upon him, giving him barely even any time to stand before they were already on him, a writhing mass of buzzing motors and claw arms, reaching and scratching and grabbing. He managed to fight back, blasting them with fire and setting his fists crunching into metal when they got too close, but there were always more to take their place.

"No matter where you scurry off to, you can never truly abandon your purpose. You know that, don't you?"

Metal parts crunched underfoot as he continued to doggedly fight against a neverending onslaught, pouring in through the windows like wasps from a nest.

Suddenly, another piercing pain lanced through the back of his neck, near the base of his skull, his vision blurring and going white for a few moments as he was brought to his hands and knees.

When he opened his eyes again, the drones were gone, and the room was quiet... But as he remained there, trying to catch his breath, he realized something very quickly. He couldn't move.

"Stand."

To his dawning horror, he stood up. Without trying to. His body was moving without his input. His eyes wouldn't even budge when he tried to look around.

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that. Now... Destroy."

NO!

It was too late. Fire sparked and climbed up his limbs, engulfing his body in flames that started to catch on the floor around him. He raised his arms and sent blasts of fireballs careening around him, smashing walls and furniture, anything not annihilated on impact would perish in the blaze... The walls buckled in the inferno. Chunks of ceiling fell. This house was done for, and everyone in it, including Tikki.

And as he distantly heard her screams, he felt...

nothing.

-!!!

Heart hammering in his chest, his eyes opened for real this time and he sat bolt upright with a gasp, prompting a coughing fit. Smoke spiraling out of his mouth, he tried to catch his breath and regain his bearings.

Mystic

The house is quiet. Besides his panting breaths and his heart trying to decide if it wanted to break his ribcage and escape, there was no sound beyond the distant hum of the heater in the walls. The fire- which appeared to have had an extra log placed on it at some point- had burned low until all that was left were charred husks, and a pile of glowing embers. It produced only a faint pop and hiss, along with the lightest aura of remaining warmth.

The house is dark. Just like in his nightmare- but there's no voice to taunt him in the shadows. The windows, which had been an open view out into the world, were covered by thick drawn curtains. Nothing could see inside, not even the searching cameras of the drones he knew were looking for him out in the city. No light is leaking past the borders of those curtains, either. He'd passed out somewhere around noon. Had he slept so long that it was nighttime?

The house is empty. Tikki is nowhere to be seen. A door at the far end of the corridor across the living room is shut. Perhaps she was there, or perhaps she left.

A hand flies quickly to the back of his neck-

-and he feels nothing. No robotic devices, no grasping claw-like limbs, no collar, and no needle stabbing into his skin. All that he finds is... the pre-existing injection site, that had long since healed over.

He was alone with his blankets and his pillow, a dying fire in the fireplace, and the lingering terror of the nightmare.

Spooky

Despite the realization that it had been a bad dream, and that there were no threats in sight, he still felt almost afraid to move for a while. He pulled the blankets up around him like it was a barrier, camouflage to hide him from whatever lurked through his imagination.

Still, he couldn't go back to sleep. Not without making sure everything was okay... So holding the pillow and clutching one of the blankets around him, he got up and checked the perimeter, wandering through the living room and down the hall, peeking in through the doors just to be safe.

Mystic

…So far, everything seemed to be clear.

The kitchen still smelled like the food Tikki made earlier - ‘om-lets’, or something. The burners in the stove were off, and all the dishes had been cleaned and returned to their rightful places.

The living room was the same. The book he picked up still sat haphazardly on the stack when he set it aside. The fire was still dying, the firewood stack neatly piled.

The windows were unshattered; no glass or broken drones littered the floor from his imagined combat. Peeking beyond the curtains showed a gentle fall of snow from the sky, and a dark, starless night filled with clouds.

…

Paying close attention to the house let him notice a few things. The scratches from the driveway were present here, too- they had been spackled and repaired wherever possible, but the signs of wear persisted. Wooden furniture was bent or scored in places, as if something big had clumsily scraped by it. These must be the signs of whenever Tikki transforms against her will, identical to what he found outside. This was a small abode to contain the oversized- whatever it is she turns into.

The door at the end of the hall has the most prominent damage, where the frame is buckled up and outward in a couple places, and the hinges had been repaired multiple times.

What did she say again? ’Shifting outside sucks because she can’t fit through the door,’ or something.

…There’s a faint buzzing sound coming from the door. She was probably asleep, oblivious to his nighttime panic.

Spooky

The sound was sort of like the breathing noises she made while asleep as the silver beast, but smaller... It wasn't like the buzz of drones, this was far less harsh and only happened at intervals instead of continuously. Still, just in case, he listened for a bit, before gathering up the nerve to open the door just a crack and peek inside.

Mystic

The inside of Tikki’s room was also dark, all lights in the room turned off save for a single lamp in the shape of a spiny fish plugged into a wall socket. There were more plants in hanging pots, some with flowers that wafted a sweet scent. A fan overhead spun in a slow circle. Against one wall was a tank full of water, plants, pebbles, and several small fish that flitted about once the light from his eyes was upon them. A filter hummed quietly on the tank, the only other notable sound in the room.

On the bed was Tikki, fast asleep. She was haphazardly wrapped in a thick blanket of her own, and what was visible of her arms and legs was covered in some sort of cloth outfit with more fish stitched onto it. She had a book open next to her on the bed. Thin red lines on the sides of her neck produced the buzzing sound he’d been hearing, every time she breathes. Was that how she snores?

The fish in the tank all swim at once towards the corner nearest the bed, swimming frantically at the tank glass.

Tikki grunts, her snore sputtering as she reaches up and rubs at her face with one hand. Moving to sit up, she looks first towards the tank. A pause, ear fins twitching, before she looks towards the door. The mermaid squints, her eyes reflecting the light from the doorway as she sleepily processes.

”Nghf- Sticks…? I see… your eyes glowing.”

Spooky

The glowing eyes peering from the doorway glance to the side self-consciously and duck behind the door, though after a few moments, one came peeking back into view.

Yeah, she'd seen him, there was no point hiding. The door opened more and he stood in the threshold, huddled in his blanket, his tallness diminished in appearance somewhat by his nervous, slumped posture. He squeezed his pillow underneath his arm.

"S... sorry," he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the fish tank filter. "Checking... if safe." The honey must have helped somewhat, that was the most talking he'd managed in one go since they'd met!

Mystic

There's a pause as Tikki's sleepy brain works its way through what he just said.

"Oh..." she mumbles, yawning- and revealing a mouth absolutely full of sharp teeth. "It's... ok, Sticks. It's just you, me, and the guppies... they started yellin' the moment you-" another yawn "-opened the door."

She rubs at her face again, this time with both hands.

"You gonna- be ok...? Can you go back- to sleep...?"

Spooky

Guppies? He looked at the fish in the tank, though he hadn't heard them make any noise, let alone yell. He blinked, but turned his attention back to Tikki.

He nodded, but it was clear by how he was carrying himself that he was hesitant to go back to sleep. He was still tired, but fear had put him in a state of alertness despite that. Backing up from the door, he turned to go back down the hall. Maybe if he couldn't sleep, he could at least keep watch...

Mystic

"Wait."

Tikki grunts, scooting to the edge of her bed and rolling her legs over the side. She adjusts the sleeves of her colorful cloth attire, and digs around in her blankets. She removes something lumpy and plush from the bundle of blankets, standing up to approach the door.

"Here," Tikki says, holding out the object to him. "Holding this helped me relax when I first started living on land instead of the sea."

It was a stuffed lizard of some sort, but it had tiny plush spines on its back and a little pair of plush wings. Fabric fangs poked out of a sewn mouth underneath tiny black bead eyes.

"His name is Slithers. Maybe he'll help you feel safe, too."

Spooky

His glowing eyes blinked in the dark like two half-covered spotlights as he picked up the little soft... creature? He didn't know what it was, but it didn't seem to be alive. It appeared to be made out of the same kind of soft stuff the pillow was. The fabric that made up its plush hide had some kind of a spotted pattern that glimmered in the light of his eyes, like scales. Whatever this fake creature was, its appearance was endearing, and he smiled a little despite his anxiety.

He nestled it between the pillow and his body and gave a little nod to Tikki in thanks.

As he made his way back to the couch, he thought about what Tikki had said. She used to live in the sea... But what was that, exactly? A different town? He wondered how often she had to move. She had to hide too, right? If people found him scary to look at, they would absolutely find the silver beast to be scarier...

Getting to the couch, he took another look around the room. Still all clear. He was about to settle back down where he'd been before, when he stopped, noticing how his hand sunk down on the cushion of the couch when he started to kneel down on the rug. His eyes widened, and he squished the cushion with his hand.

This thing had pillows on it!

He got back up, and almost as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do this or not, he cautiously sat on the couch instead, curling up in the crook of the couch's arm. It felt like he had more defenses this way, being in a corner- and it was a very soft and squishy corner. It was like he was gonna sink into it, but he didn't- not enough to be alarming, anyway. This was a good spot...

Snuggling down in the blankets all curled up and hugging his legs, with the pillow and plush sandwiched between the front of his torso and the back of his thighs, he sat there in quiet comfort until he finally began to doze off again...

Mystic

...This time, he's unbothered by nightmares, or even dreams. The comforting blackness of exhaustion envelops him, and for now, he's allowed to sleep in the peaceful silence of nothingness.

~*~

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[varilien]

(character uses they/it) i keep wanting to start posting my ocs over here again and then Just Not Doing It so uhhhh !!! some stuff from february, had a dream about knives that made me think of a plant oc with a constant power output so extreme that it generates a deadly radiation field around them. because of that they've been living alone this whole time, avoiding contact with other living things, and over the years they've learned how to suppress that output for short spans of time or "safely" pour out the excess in order to be safe to be around, though they ultimately prefer their solitude due to a history of bad experiences with humans. they're very blunt, spiteful, and curious

@whatever-you-can-give-me suggested lr would make good friends for them since they are 🤝 about being extremely hard to hurt lol

also! wrote like 2k about they and razlo's first meeting below the cut if anyone's interested in some good ol violence + gore :3

that was a fr content warning btw read at ur own discretion:

Chance encounters with violent strangers out in the open desert are nothing new to LR, even when Livio purposefully had tried to find the quietest possible route to travel.  It’s not even necessarily surprising to run into someone a little to the left of human, someone a bit bigger or stronger or more durable than they really have any right to be.  The Eye aren’t the only ones designing freaks on this planet, that much is obvious, evidenced sufficiently by the odder fights LR have ever gotten in.  

And this one is shaping up to be one of their oddest fights yet.

Livio hadn’t seen the fucker coming, occupied as he was with the slow realization of why this stretch of road doesn’t see much use anymore: a creeping heat across his nerve endings unrelated to the overcast, evening suns, the taste of metal in his mouth, and a deep-rooted nausea twisting up his guts.  Radiation sickness.  He’s dealt with it before, and as unpleasant as it is, it’s hardly enough to slow him down too bad.  

It’s damn distracting, though.  A good enough excuse for not noticing them hiding up along the rockface above his head.  Not a good enough excuse to keep Razlo from tagging in, especially after something’s pierced straight through the back of his neck, nearly taking his head clean off.  

Razlo rolls for cover with a strangled sound, blood gushing from his forced-out throat and foaming at his lips.  Even with his senses jarred and his vision blurred, it'd take more than a near-decapitation for his instincts to be overridden.  He's slinging out a Punisher before he even knows what he's up against.  

There's a blur of motion to his right as soon as his sights are raised.  They're probably surprised Razlo's still standing, but so was everyone else who's gotten a lucky shot at him.

He can track their motion by sound alone.  They're sloppy.  Feet hitting the cracked earth in hard thumps, every one a warning that Razlo can aim a spray of bullets at.  And by now Razlo's healed enough to notice and wonder why the hell his head is still so fucked up.

At least now he can mostly see them when he turns, hanging back a ways, out of Razlo's reach.  Shorter than him by a head and a half, covered toe to tip in layers of sun-bleached rags, save for their face.  That's hidden behind a tall, curved mask, shaped in a way that looks an awful lot like a tomas' crest, with the false eye markings to match.  Even the glass for the lenses is opaque.  The only part of them that’s exposed is their left hand, extended delicately aside to keep Razlo’s blood dripping off it from getting on their clothes.

Razlo physically tries to shake out the buzzing in his skull that only gets worse by the second, only to notice the foul smell of burning meat and risk an instinctive glance down at his arm, where his flesh has started to bubble and steam seemingly on its own.  He looks between his arm and his opponent, the way their body tenses and head begins to tip, shaking hard, simultaneous with his skin boiling that much more fiercely.  

Something clicks in his brain.  There’s no way.

And no time to find out.  This time when they dart in he’s expecting it; he takes a swing at their head, and they dodge right into his follow-through, slamming his Punisher into their skull with a crunch and a wet sound from their throat.  They drop, like he’d expect them to, like anyone would.  And like no one does, they just roll out of the way and onto their back, braced to spring back up again.  Razlo puts his boot through their ribcage before they get the chance to.  That should be the end of it, too, but the fucker just keeps kicking, trying to get away, the only sound they make being the gurgle of their lungs filling with blood, and they keep kicking.

At this point Razlo doesn’t even have a plan anymore.  Needless to say, he doesn’t go up against an awful lot of guys who match him in the department of being a pain in the ass to take down.  Razlo's just starting to come up with a new idea when those long arms swing up, claws digging into and making ribbons of his right leg.

Razlo curses and tries to pull away, which only makes them hold on even tighter.  He's staring that four-eyed glare down when that burning feeling across his whole body raises in pitch again, and it's the sight of his flesh starting to disintegrate around their fingers that finally makes him back off.

Razlo rather gracelessly falls on his ass in trying to take a step back, not expecting his right leg to simply break off halfway down his thigh.  He scrambles back a ways, ready to keep going, missing limb or no, but— they aren't following him.  They're collapsed in the sand, limbs akimbo as they fight to draw a full breath.  Razlo watches with morbid curiosity as his severed leg dissolves into nothing more than an off-colored patch of sand beside them.

All that angry tension has gone out of their body, leaving them limp and motionless except for the stutter of their chest, and Razlo can hear the damp gasps muffled behind their mask.  By all rights, it should look like more of a struggle.  They should be dead, really, but from where Razlo is sitting, it looks a lot more like they’re just taking a rest.  He feels more sure of that when they roll their shoulders back a bit, arms braced in the dirt as they delicately arch their spine.  There’s some sharp popping sounds, and a little exhale from them; setting their ribs, Razlo figures.  He’s had to do the same thing before.  Once they can move their arms more effectively, they start to gather themself up into a seated position, bones and joints still crackling like popcorn here and there as they go, til they’re all the way up, with their hands resting in their lap, looking far too fucking comfortable for the fight they’d just had.

"You're not dead."

Their voice startles Razlo despite being as soft as it is, and his gaze flicks up to that mask, just slightly tilted to the side, orange lenses glinting in the harsh sunlight.  They don't move at all that Razlo can see.  Even their breathing has evened out enough to have become imperceptible under their heavy shroud; if they're in any pain still, Razlo sure can't tell.

"Nope," is all he says, or can manage to say.

He scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking hard a couple times to scrunch up his face in the hopes his nerves might start feeling right again soon.

Another wave of nausea hits him, but his stomach was empty before the fight even started, so he leans forward to put his head between his knees and dry heave for a while.

The whole time, he's aware of his little opponent continuing to sit in silence, watching and eerily unmoving, even when Razlo manages to sit up again and wipe his mouth with his wrist.

"The fuck's yer deal, anyways?"  Razlo asks.

"'Deal'...?"  They echo.

"Couldn't exactly kill you, either."

He wasn't expecting them to spill their life story or something, but he was thinking he'd get something more of a response than their head tilting back the opposite way.  There's not a lot to work with here in trying to get a read on them, but Razlo feels it's safe to hazard they're probably just pretty damn confused, the same as him.

"You kinda smell like a Plant.  M'not an expert, but I've met two others."

Now that gets something out of them.  A tiny wiggle of their head that makes the pieces in their mask rattle.

"I wouldn't know.  I've only met me."

“Huh.”  

Whether it’s a confirmation or rebuttal hardly matters at this point.  He’s feeling sure enough that his assumption was correct, now, anyways.

"You, uh…"  Razlo has to pause for breath.  Unlike the thing across from him, he's having a hell of a time getting his back.  "You're the one making this radiation field?"

"Yes."

"Any way you could turn it down?"

They say nothing, though Razlo feels suddenly that he's being studied very intently.  And shortly after, slowly, slowly the fire in his cells begins to go out, and he can spit the worst of the sourness off his tongue.  Eventually he can't feel any radiation left at all, though his body's had a rough enough time from the dose he got, he'll be getting the sickness out of his system for a while yet.

Regardless, Razlo’s fingers twitch against the triggers when he hears that mask rattle again, and his eyes are on it in an instant.

"You didn't answer my first question," Razlo reminds, cautiously.

More silence, for a while.

"You wanted to hurt me."

There's no malice in the statement, at least that Razlo can tell.  Just the simple facts.  Still, he narrows his eyes.

"You started it.  Figured it was mutual."

"That's true."

Razlo grins.

"So, what now?  Regrow my leg, and get back to not killing each other?"

"If you'd like to."

That gets a laugh out of him.

"Nah, I think I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It is.”

That much is obvious.  They stay put, seeming transfixed on watching Razlo’s leg grow back, only a little more slowly than any of his other injuries, now that he doesn’t have the radiation to slow him down.  It leaves him feeling itchy and achy all over, and he’s got a bad hunch that right ankle doesn’t have the best chances of coming back right.  Once there’s enough of it to fuss about, he gets his foot in his hands and starts experimentally rolling it on its hinge, checking that the range of motion is right.

And still, those orange lenses glint at him curiously.  They don’t flinch or look away when Razlo considers them in return; he guesses they don’t know it’s not polite to stare.

“What's yer name?"  Razlo asks.

"My name?"

"Don't tell me you ain't got one."

The silence that follows is pretty self-explanatory.

“I’m Razlo.”

He can just make out the sound of them mumbling his name under their breath, like they’re not sure how it’s going to come out.  Almost warmly, almost shyly, they manage to say: “hello, Razlo.”

[roboticspacecase]

Here's my Secret Santa gift for @suikamelony !! It was such a fun prompt to work with, and such an honor to get to write something for one of my favorite Billdip artists! 😊 Hope everyone is having a happy holiday season! May any sorrow in your heart be lifted and replaced with warm and fuzzies 💜

Deafening silence pooled between when Dipper had launched himself over the couch and into the closet, and when he finally let out a shaky breath.

A loud, sudden banging had startled him onto his feet, disrupting the puzzle session he had set out to spend his Saturday doing. It had been going well. So well, in fact, that it had become dark outside. A five-thousand-piece puzzle sat nearly done on the coffee table, ready for the last few hundred pieces to be slotted together. It would never get done before midnight if he stayed bunched up against his coats any longer.

Still, he had no desire to peek out and see what had caused something in his kitchen to come out of the cupboard and fall onto the floor.

Logically, he had just put something in an unstable position, and it took its time falling. Thinking of realistic answers usually helped cut his anxiety down enough for him to settle his nerves. But this time it didn’t stop his brain from coming up with all sorts of other ideas.

How could something fall when he was always so careful to place things neatly? And when was the last time he had even done the dishes? Could something sit for over a day in an unstable position? What if some wild animal had gotten into the house, and he’d have to spend his night chasing it to either capture it or usher it out a window? Had some stranger gotten into his apartment through the back window, even though he lived on the second floor? There weren’t any weapons in the closet, he would have to find some way to get to either his room or the kitchen without being seen.

“Okay, okay, stop thinking yourself into a spiral, none of that is happening right now.” Dipper forced a gulp of air into his lungs and held it for two seconds before slowly letting it out. “Gotta bring back logic, Dipper. Now, think; Have I heard any new noise since the banging?” Carefully, he pressed his ear to the closet door. His rapid heartbeat nearly washed out everything else, but he managed to hear the usual nightlife of his neighbors and the birds outside. “No new noise. So then… Something just fell. Right. Nothing to worry about, just gravity doing its thing.”

He gulped and gripped the doorknob. It creaked and whined as he pried it open, making his face twist into a grimace. He’d have to find some oil for those hinges.

Dipper took several shaky steps out of the closet, his head whipping left and right. The soft yellow light coming from the lamp in the corner kept away just enough shadows for him to see the whole room. The coast was clear in the living room.

“Gotta check the kitchen now. Easy. Totally… Not scary.” With another deep breath, Dipper marched through the archway onto the cool tile, cursing his dislike of overhead lights. His curtains were at least pulled open, and the sun hadn’t gone down enough to make the place pitch black. It was still plenty dark, though.

Nothing out of the ordinary caught his eye, aside from the metal mixing bowl that had fallen from the cupboard next to the dishwasher.

“I guess… I guess it just fell on its own. Totally a normal thing to happen. Not spooky at all.” Dipper shuffled forward, hitting the light on his way over to pick up the bowl. “I should just be thankful it wasn’t anything glass. That would have been a nightmare to pick up.”

He gave the bowl a rinse in the sink, drying it carefully with a dishtowel before putting it back where it belonged. That time, he made sure it sat further back on the shelf.

“Right then. That’s dealt with,” Dipper said as he smacked his damp hands together. “There’s nothing to be scared of, and I can get back to my-”

Click.

Darkness fell over Dipper. If the light in the living room hadn’t still shined through the entryway, he would have thought the power went out. But no. Just the kitchen light had turned off. And he could see that a burnt-out bulb wasn’t the cause. The light switch had gone down. On its own.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he squeaked. Dipper’s mouth ran dry and his hand flew up to his chest as if it could still his pounding heart. “I must’ve flicked the switch too fast. It didn’t go up all the way and… Gravity is just really trying to get under my skin today. Nothing else.”

His weak knees were carried off by panicked feet, leaping and bounding to the switch to flip it back up. Light once more filled the room, and Dipper let out a relieved sigh.

Paranoia wouldn’t be getting the best of him that night.

Getting back into the puzzle would keep his mind busy enough to ignore any more strange coincidences, so that was what he set to do.

“No panic attacks tonight. Just me, my puzzle, and a lot more light than I was working with a minute ago. I’m totally fine.” As he sat down, Dipper let out another sigh, relaxing his shoulders and setting his eyes on the loose pieces.

The colorful garden image in front of him had been the reason he picked the puzzle. That and the piece count. Anything that posed a challenge was the perfect way to keep his brain working while he wasn’t busy with his job.

Minutes ticked by, pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and Dipper’s adrenaline had settled down enough to let him exist with his hobby peacefully. The awful, short string of events faded to the background of his mind, blocked by the red bushes of roses that all looked the same. Some would find looking at the same four, red pieces for twenty minutes boring. Dipper, however, happily hummed a random tune he had heard Mabel listening to the last time they hung out while his brain worked over where each of them went.

His intense stare-down broke when a gentle thumping noise broke its way into his thoughts.

Dipper froze, keeping his eyes down at the table. That came from the closet he had hidden in earlier. There were only coats and a few boxes filled with old books stored there. None of those could be the cause of a repetitive noise.

Goosebumps clawed their way over his back and down his arms, forcing every hair on his body to stand. His reinvigorated pulse sent a wave of heat up to his face, warming his ears and filling them with a rush of blood that thrummed in time with the mysterious noise.

With no logical explanation to fall back on, Dipper stayed motionless while his lungs went into overdrive and his vision blurred. His phone sat heavy in his pocket, reminding him that he could call Mabel at a moment’s notice to ask to go stay at her place for the night. But that would require grabbing shoes and his keys. Where even were his car keys? Probably next to his bed. Which meant he would have to get up and get closer to the closet.

Whatever had crept in there could pop out and grab him. Or it could get angry if he got too close. Dipper knew that there couldn’t actually be anything in there. Noise or not, nothing could have made its way in there since he had snuck out of it. His anxiety wasn’t about to let him chance it, though.

The neighbor right next to him had been nice the few times he met him. A single guy, around his age, that had been living there for a few years. Would it be weird if he asked to hang out so late? Dipper remembered that the man mentioned being a night owl, saying that he often stayed up to watch movies or do some sort of arts and crafts. Maybe he would have some better insight into the old building and could help calm Dipper down with some explanations for the noises and faulty light switches.

Dipper swallowed the lump that had settled in his throat and then quietly sucked in a deep breath. His slippers were next to the door, ready for him to jam his feet into them and bolt outside to his neighbor’s. The guy—Bill, he was pretty sure had been his name—did say that he could come to him if he needed anything when they first met. Surely he wouldn’t mind a bit of company? Maybe they could share a good laugh over Dipper’s panic.

It took a few moments to work up the courage to move, but when Dipper finally got his muscles fired up, he got up so fast that it made his head spin. That didn’t stop him from hurrying over to the front door and working his slippers on, though.

“Just gotta get some fresh air and laugh this off,” he chuckled nervously to himself as his shaking hands fiddled with the handle.

Despite not wanting to look at the closet, Dipper’s terrified mind forced him to make sure nothing was about to come charging at him from it.

The handle jostled slightly in time with the thumping. Something had to be right behind the flimsy wood, building the tension like some sick predator wanting to scare its meal before hunting it down. Dipper watched in horror as the banging slowed, and the door popped open just enough for him to see inside of it.

Pure, inky blackness stared back at him, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw the shadows bleed onto the wall next to it.

Dipper didn’t give it a chance to get any closer. He took his rush of adrenaline and used it to throw open the front door and bolt out of there, slamming it shut behind him. His journey to the neighbor’s took him no more than ten seconds, and yet when he stopped on the welcome mat, Dipper had to catch his breath.

Not wanting to alarm the man, Dipper knocked as casually as possible, hoping that he wasn’t waking him up.

It didn’t take long before the blond answered the door with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey there. A bit late for a visit, don’t you think? Are you alright?”

Dipper let out an awkward laugh, trying not to let his eyes dart back to his front door. “Totally fine. I mean, y’know, still getting used to this place and all, but totally fine. Just thought that maybe, uh, maybe you’d like to… Catch up? I know you said you’re usually up late, and I was too, so I thought maybe we could sit and talk and get to like, know each other a bit better?”

His unsure words did Dipper no favors as he tried to pretend not to be terrified of his own shadow that the hallway light cast.

Bill laughed and opened his door more, showing Dipper inside. “Now is as good as ever, I suppose. You’re more than welcome to come in and chat. Actually, this is perfect timing. I just made snacks for a movie marathon. There’s hot popcorn, some mini sandwiches, and lots of different chips set out in front of the couch. Help yourself.”

Dipper wanted to hide the relief on his face, but he couldn’t manage to do it as he stepped into the other apartment. “Thanks. I don’t know how snacky I feel right now, but I appreciate it.” He walked over to the couch with Bill, settling in against the black leather with a content sigh.

“So, four months hasn’t been enough for you to feel at home yet? It only took me one, since I got all of my things put away so fast.” Bill dropped himself onto the spot next to Dipper. “Have you not finished getting all of your stuff unpacked yet?”

The walls could hardly be seen through all the strange, intricate tapestries and knick-knacks pinned and hung in the place. Every inch of the place had some black, gold, or bits of red covering it. Dipper’s eyes strained if he looked at any of it for too long, almost as though his mind couldn’t comprehend the specifics of the designs or symbols.

“Uh, n--no. I mean, yes, I got it all unpacked. It’s just… New.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I’ve been so used to living with family, it’s been weird living on my own. That and this place seems…” Dipper bit his lip, wondering if his new friend would make fun of him for thinking there was some sort of ghost or ghoul haunting the place.

“Haunted as fuck?” Bill snorted. “Yeah, I had a feeling you would ask about that.” He grabbed a soda from the table, ignoring the other snacks. “It’s just old as fuck. I think these apartments were built in the fifties? They’ve been a bit upgraded since then, of course, but I’ve heard enough creaks, moans, groans, and whiney pipes to know that it should probably be torn down and rebuilt from the ground up. Not that these people would ever pay for that, but it would be smart.”

Dipper laughed, the heated weight on his shoulders sliding off in an instant. Right. An old building and his mind playing tricks on him. That was all that scared him out of his apartment, because what else could it be? Some angry spirit? A demon? He nearly laughed again at the very idea.

“Ah, that’s honestly a relief to hear. I won’t lie, I maybe sorta got a little spooked tonight while working on my puzzle.” He caught himself a second too late, cringing at the mention of his boring hobby. “I-I just noticed a few weird things happen in a row. And I could’ve sworn that something…”

“Something…?” Bill prompted, seeming as if he was fine with ignoring the mention of Dipper doing a puzzle.

“I dunno,” Dipper shrugged. “I guess I got too in my head from it all. I like to think there’s stuff out there that science can’t explain, but knowing that this building is just old makes me realize I probably should get out a little more if my brain is going to make up a bunch of spooky stuff.” Another awkward laugh forced its way out. The more he calmed down, the more silly he realized he must’ve looked to Bill. The man would probably think he was some crazy neighbor that he’d have to learn to avoid.

A wide, dazzling smile spread on the blond’s lips as he casually threw his arm up on the back of the couch. “Well, I’m always around if you ever want to step away from your puzzles and biting your nails to say hello. Or, you can watch a few movies with me. I work from home, so it’s no bother to me if you wanna stop in randomly.” He handed Dipper the drink he had yet to open, wiggling a little closer. “You’re the most interesting person to move into this place in a long time. It’s mostly just old people and angry women with little dogs that never shut up.”

Dipper couldn’t help but smile as well as Bill spoke. Their close proximity didn’t bother him, though he did begin to wonder if Bill realized just how suggestive he had become.

“I’ll have to take you up on that sometime. I do like watching movies.” The drink in his hand fizzled, and he blinked at the open tab. Had he done that without thinking? Or did Bill open it for him and he somehow missed it?

His head must’ve been really shaken up to completely miss something like that.

“Perfect! I was about to binge some Disney classics. That should help get your mind off of all the spooky stuff pretty quickly.” Bill grabbed another drink for himself, setting the bowl of popcorn in the small space left between them. “There’s plenty, so don’t be afraid to dig in.”

Dipper hummed, taking a sip of the soda and trying to let himself fully relax into the couch. “Thanks. You’re sweet to let me join in on your movie night.”

Bill waved his free hand at him. “Think nothing of it. Movie nights are always more fun with someone else.”

As the first movie started to play, Dipper’s eyes wandered down to the snacks on the table. There were a lot for just one person. Maybe Bill had been planning to stay up all night. Or he didn’t like the idea of running out of snacks and having to get up to make more.

Whatever the logical cause of the abundant snacks was, Dipper didn’t want to let any more thought-spirals keep him from enjoying his night. He and Bill would get to know each other while watching fun, cute movies, and he would have a nice neighbor to go to whenever he needed time away from his thoughts. Mabel had always told him to make friends who weren’t just on the computer, so hanging out with Bill would be a good thing.

Dipper just hoped that his mind would stop playing tricks on him so that he didn’t always run to Bill out of fear. The other would no doubt get sick of babying him whenever something went bump in the night. However, knowing weird noises were common in that place would make it a bit easier to not be so jumpy. And buying more lights wouldn’t hurt, either.

[silent-raven13]

Don't mess with Spider-Punk's Sunflower

Green Goblin laughs out loud flying on his hoverboard, the anomaly glitching around having to throw bombs left and right. "Oh shit! He's going crazy!" Gwen shouted.

Pavtri said, "We gotta help the civilians! Those bombs are gonna hurt them!"

Miles went to use his venom strike on the enemy, before the villain was able to hit him with one of his bombs. "Ah-hahaha, take that Spider-man!"

"Arr-ahhhhhh!" Miles took the harsh hit at least using his venom strike to handle the hit, "Uhhhh!" His body weakened as he fell down.

"MILES!" Gwen and Pavtri shouted being busy from saving civilians.

Miles falling in mid-air, until a special Spider Punk came to the rescue. "Gotcha, luv!"

"Augh!" Miles winced at his hands taking damage, "I-I-I got lucky, huh?" Then he noticed a sharp deep cut on his side, "Ahh, fuck." His eyes snap back at his partner seeing how the punker remained quiet, this is worrisome!

"Shh, it's okay. Take a breather. I'll handle him! This isn't the first time I dealt with a fascist Osborn." Hobie went on top of building for his Sunflower to rest, he pressed his forehead against him. Their masks touching, then a kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry I got this, Sunflower."

"Hobie, be careful."

"Heh, careful is my middle name, darling." Spider-Punk went on the edge glaring at the Green Goblin.

"Bae, your middle name is...." His boyfriend jump off the building to fight their enemy, "Laurence." Miles finished seeing his boyfriend is pretty pissed off at the Green Goblin.

Being pissed off is one thing, but for Spider-Punk, he's enrage! Seeing an Osborn attacking his love one, not just any love one, his Sunflower had made him felt a rage he never felt before. Or rarely felt, because Spider-Punk is known to fuck shit up when he wants too!

"Ahh, another Spider-man coming to take me on? Hahaha, like what I did to your friend? You lucky I didn't blow his brains out!" The Green Goblin laughs manically in the air.

Spider-punk glaring at the enemy, all he saw was red. When the enemy launch another rocket bomb, Spider-Punk uses his electric guitar to hit it like a baseball. The rocket exploded in the air causing the Green Goblin to move upward away from the smoke, "Wha?" Then out of the smoke appears Spider-Punk's body shoot out with both his hands holding the neck of his guitar-*WAM!*

The powerful swing hit the anomaly's helmet causing to the crack leaving one eye mask completely broken. Norman Osborn's eyes wide releasing he was falling down being completely knocked out from his hoverboard. "Wha-what! AHHHHH!" He screams as he watches Spider-Punk on his hoverboard looking down at him like curiosity like what would happen if someone fell on concrete.

*THUD!* The Green Goblin's green body suit with armor landed hard on the streets having his body tumbling around till he lays as if he were dead. Letting out a low groan, he hears heavy footsteps, and chains clinging together. Quickly looking up to find Spider-Punk dragging his guitar on the pavement with metal scratches against it.

The menacing superhero had an eerie vibrance around him completely different from the Spider-man the villain knows. This one was already at it's limit with the whole cat and mouse game, especially when he hurt the other hero in black and red suit.

"Get up." The Spider-man grunts with his big beady mask staring down at him, no emotions show, but the sound of his voice is deep and daring.

Norman tries to more feeling one of his arm broken as he grunts in pain, his whole body couldn't move, a massive pain through his head. Then, heavy thick boot pressed against his abdominal with a harsh shove to making his whole body turns. His head facing the grey skies, the echos of people screaming and chaos all through the city of New York, "I said Get up, you fucking cunt!" The Spider-man demanded in a serious tone before kicking him hard.

"OOOHH! AHH!" Norman clutched his stomach feeling like the kick rupture one of his organs.

"I said fucking get up! Fight me like a damn man, you bombaclatt!" This time Spider-Punk hit his body with his guitar, with all his rage he started to beat the Green Goblin into a bloody pulp. The punker stomps on the enemies chest until he heard ribs crack, "This is what you get of fucking hurting my SUNFLOWER!"

Norman tries to fight away until he screams in pain, begging for the Spider-man to stop him. Spider-Punk didn't believe in mercy, he believes in pay back. Hurt his loved ones, he'll retrieve the same energy ten thousand folds.

In spite of anger, he grips on to his guitar being ready to bash into the Green Goblins' brains out. He done it before, what's another kill gonna do to him? "I'm gonna make you regret for hurting my Sunflower!" He swings his electric guitar with all his power causing Norman Osborn to beg in cries.

"NO, PLEASE! I HAVE A SON!!!" Norman shut his eyes getting ready for the worst, with his helmet cracks showing off his bloody face in panic.

Then Hobie stops with his eyes wide at Miguel grabbing at the neck of the guitar stopping the murder of the Green Goblin anomaly. "Enough, Brown. You done enough damage to him." Miguel said in a serious tone with his mask shifting to a glare.

"Ha, I say when I'm done!" Hobie growls at him.

"Shouldn't you worry about a specific someone... I dunno like Morales?" Miguel turns his head and points at Miles walking with his hands covering the deep wound he had being covered by a bandage Gwen is helping him.

Hobie turns his head shifting his anger into worry, "Oh! Sunflower!" He happily rushes over almost skipping to find his sweetheart, "You alright, luv?"

Miguel shook his head at the punker seeing how he swept off Miles' feet, their foreheads pressed together and kiss. Then he looks back at the Green Goblin staring in shock before passing out. "Whoa! He does not look good?" Peter came by looking at the bloody mess.

"Brown lost it."

"Pfft, and you don't? Last time I check you also kill your enemies."

"Okay but he went off the wall because Morales got-" Peter stood with one hand on his hip and the other free hand pointed at him, wagging his finger, "You know, you and him are so much alike, if it was Gabi. You would burn down the whole city." This caught off Spider-man 2099's guard. "Huh uh, stay quiet."

Hobie happily snuggles his love while Miles said, "Bae, you gotta chill. I only got cut."

"Never! Whoever hurt you will get their shit rocked, Sunflower." He nuzzle into his boyfriend's neck, inhaling his scent, "Mmm, my Sunflower." Miles can only giggle at his boyfriend being so cute.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cooking by the Book

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Ruggie and Malleus) I Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

You’ve got to do the cooking by the book! ... But with Floyd and Sebek, that’s an impossible task. Between noodle sourcing squabbles and differences in their approach, how can GR ever rein these two loose cannons in?

dbjsbskdne I was so excited to write this because I love both Sebek and Floyd 😌 They make for a fun dynamic, especially when mixed in with GR~

I was busy around the initial release of this event months ago, so I’m releasing this SUPER late (but it all ends up working out, since a character cameoing in this fic is one of the new Master Chef units for May 2023). I’ll get the Idia and Ace with GR one out in a week or two 😭 Please bear with me!!

Imagine this…

If teaching the Master Chef course at NRC had taught Gordon Ramsay one thing, it was this: the kitchen was an active battle zone, and weapons of mass destruction laid in wait around every corner. It was all open flames and pointed tools... but the most dangerous thing of all to his health and his sanity?

The students.

He had dealt with his fair share of arrogant, ill-tempered chefs. Professionals who thought themselves too good to take advice, newbies who believed they were better than they actually were.

The NRC boys were a whole new ordeal altogether, Gordon realized.

“IEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

A bloodcurdling shriek resounded in Ignihyde’s halls. It bounced off the cold polished floors and the metal beams and wires that stitched everything together.

At once, Gordon snapped to attention, pushing himself away from the wall and rushing to the scream’s source. The door snagged, refusing to open--he cursed loudly, slamming his palms against it and roaring, “WHAT’S GOIN’ ON IN THERE?!”

Behind the door, the wailing escalated. There was crashing, screeching, sobbing, begging. His worries ramped up, his pounding, harder and more frantic.

“I THOUGHT I COULD LEAVE YOU TWO UNDERSUPERVISED FOR ONE BLOODY SECOND!!”

Gordon’s palms were raw now, crying out in protest--and, for a wild moment, he considered ramming his entire body against the door. Just as he was preparing to throw himself at it—

Click.

Like magic, the door suddenly swung open. Sebek’s proud face appeared, wearing a smug, triumphant expression. Not good, Gordon thought.

“Rejoice, human!!, Sebek thundered happily. “The merman and I have successfully liberated Ignihyde of its excess of flash fried noodles!! We shall have plenty to use for our cooking lessons!!”

“You did WHAT?!”

“Hmph! Witness our bountiful spoils for yourself!!”

Gordon lifted his head and stared past Sebek.

In the back of the room, Floyd was squatting by Idia’s closet, packet of instant ramen in hand. Boxes and boxes of noodles—rummaged from the deepest recesses of Idia’s mancave—laid in haphazard stacks beside him, teetering precariously atop one another.

Ignihyde’s dorm leader sprawled on the floor, humbly prostrating himself between tears.

“Oi, Firefly Squid-senpai,” Floyd said lazily, using the butt of his frying pan to poke Idia on the head. “This all you got? You’d better tell the truth or else Crocodile-chan and I will squeeze you senseless~”

“Y-Yes, yes, that’s everything!!” Idia squeaked as he cowered in terror. “Y-You’ve already cleaned me out of house and home...!! J-Just take the noodles and leave this nerd alone!!”

“Hmmm...” Floyd laid his frying pan on his shoulder and contemplated. “’Kay! I don’t feel like haulin’ more stuff back to the kitchen anyway.”

“The FUCK is happening here?!”

All eyes landed on Gordon as he stormed in looking none too pleased. Veins bulged on his forehead, and his entire face creased with rage.

A mistake made on his part; he should have known—the students of Night Raven College were the most dangerous aspect in all of cooking.

It had been a sly suggestion from Floyd that started this whole mess. “I heard from a little octopus that Ignihyde’s loaded with noodles. We should go there to pick some up.”

And so Sebek and Floyd had been allowed to go off to collect the ingredients. When they didn’t return in a timely manner, Gordon’s suspicions had set in and he went to Ignihyde himself to investigate—only to stumble upon that shocking scene.

He left fuming, dragging his problem children of the day with him (Floyd) flailing and (Sebek) protesting.

“I said you could get ingredients, I didn’t say you should rob the man blind!!” Gordon grunted, shoving them both through the kitchen doors. “Right, we’ll make noodles by scratch then. Hope you boys remember what you’ve been taught.”

“What? But I don’t feel like it.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you pissed on my mood. To your stations,” their instructor barked, “now!!”

“Maaan... This sucks.”

They reluctantly slunk off, fetching flour, salt, and eggs along the way. Just as Sebek popped open a jar of white granules, Gordon shouted, “Make sure it’s not sugar this time, Zigvolt!!”

Sebek’s cheeks flamed. He shot a fierce glare back, bellowing, “I KNOW THAT!! I don’t need to be told twice! I’ve been expanded my culinary repertoire considerably since the start of this semester!!”

Floyd’s eyes shifted to Sebek’s station. A nasty plot bubbled to the surface of his mind, encouraged by the volatility of his junior’s attitude.

“Ehhh, you sure got guts snapping back to the teach, freshie,” Floyd grinned crookedly as he leaned forward at his counter. “How about you talk big when you can actually own up to it? At least I can cook without a recipe. You’ve been making little mistakes even with a recipe.”

“WHAT!! The only reason we’re even IN this predicament is due to YOUR lapse in judgment!! You INSISTED it would be more cost effective and time efficient to procure noodles in bulk from Ignihyde!”

“You’re the one that went along with me. If you were really smart, you’d have stopped us.”

“Grk…!!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of the both of you!!” Gordon interrupted. “Focus on your pastas instead of stirring the pot here.”

“Tch!! I’ll show him!!” Sebek gruffly tore into a bag of flour at his table. A cloud of fine white powder filled the air, sending him into a coughing fit.

Floyd snickered—he had already shifted his own flour and salt together, forming a well in which he had cracked an egg.

Gordon raised a brow. “… Well? Get on with it then.”

The merman’s lackadaisical smile turned sharp-toothed at the suggestion. “If you say so.”

Without hesitation, Floyd stuck his entire hand into his mound of ingredients, fingers clenching around egg and flower. The yolk burst, viscous yellow coating his hand and flour flying in all directions. A stray speck flew across the aisle and hit Sebek’s forehead.

A low grow came from his throat.

Gordon scowled at Floyd. “That’s not an acceptable mixing technique.”

“That’s right!” Sebek called haughtily. “You should know better!! You’re meant to break the yolk with a fork, then steadily incorporate it into the...”

A fistful of flour suddenly exploded across Sebek’s vision. He jerked back, now boasting a flour-covered face, appalled and mouth hanging agape.

Across the way, Floyd unabashedly smirked. He waggled his yolky fingers at his classmate, incriminating himself. “Oops, my hand slipped.”

“YOU VILE KNAVE!! THIS INJUSTICE WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED!!” Sebek shoved a hand into his own bag of flour for a counterattack. He raised his arm, and Floyd cackled, knowing his target had taken the bait.

Gordon instantly clued in on his intentions.

This was it: Floyd’s escape from the order to make noodles, to do something more fun.

“TIME OUT!!” The chef abruptly stepped between his students, forming a physical barrier between the two--but alas, too late.

The declaration of war had been made.

There was a battle cry, and then flour flying at him. Gordon fell back, grasping at his face. The world blurred into a white mess, filled with the clanging of pots and pans and erratic shouting. 

“Where are you?!” Sebek demanded between coughs (most likely preparing another projectile). “COME AND FACE ME, YOU FISHY COWARD!!”

Shuffling came from within the flour haze, metal and wooden implements rolled or tossed to the floor to attract Sebek’s attention. Wherever Floyd was in the kitchen, he was a master at avoiding detection.

All the while, Gordon swatted at the air and bellowed, “Stand down, get back to work. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, YOU FUCKING DONKEYS?!”

The startled cries of the cafeteria ghost chefs started filtering in.

“G-Goodness, what’s happened here?!”

Gordon lurched out of the kitchen, clinging to the doorframe to keep himself upright. He spat up a breath, then dragged a hand over his face to wipe it clean of flour. The man looked simultaneously infuriated and exhausted, the lines on his face seemingly more prominent than they had been before.

“Mr. Ramsay!! Are you alright?! What’s become of the kitchen and the students?!” one of the ghost chefs asked worriedly.

“The students,” Gordon said wearily. “That’s what happened.”

[ikkosu]

HELLO HELLO!! I hear you wanted some pharma or prowl. I have brought to you a request about pharma. Pharma with a reader whos studying to be a doctor/nurse? Maybe Pharma can tell the reader whats it like to be a cybertronian medic while reader can tell Pharma what they've been learning! Thank you btw, love your writings!!!

STUDY PARTNER

author’s note : thank you!! your words mean so much to me <3 I hope you don’t mind me adding a bit to that ask ! I had a lot of fun writing this and I’m not very versed in cybertronian biology so I tried (made up stuff that seems plausible but really just made up stuff)

summary : pharma’s darling pet is learning to be a medic and he’s appalled.short little fic.

warnings : none. fluff + playful banter. pre-delphi-tarn Pharma.

He almost pierced himself with the scalpel when he heard you over the comms, babbling about studying to be a medic and what gives.

A human medic, learning about Cybertronian biology? He couldn’t focus. Whatever you’re ranting about goes through one processor then the other. He’s more baffled that you’re already at your fourth year.

Primus, how’d this get out of hand?

Now, he’s forty feet off the ground, zooming towards your living space. Never mind the cold expanse of Messatine, this problem needed to be dealt with and quick. He approaches the organic area.

The suburban house comes into view and he catches sight of your open window; the dim glow of the yellow lights spooled out amidst the night. He’ll have to remind you to be more careful with security. But that can wait.

In the process of trying to fly into your window, really he’ll just destroy the damn wall to get in, the top of his wings were caught in the fully drawn blinds by a mere inch, and he scrambled, landing face-first into the cold floorboard of your room.

Not the safe landing he’d prefer to be honest. A shadow casts over him, he groans, and raises his helm to see your bare feet, trail it up to your shorts, your loose shirt then the deadpan of your face with a quirked brow. You’re clutching a myriad of books, papers sticking out, and your hair is a mess. You’re studying for the upcoming exams, no doubt.

“You know, there’s this thing.” You began, stepping over the large jet to head towards your desk, pulling the chair back and plopping your self on it. “It’s ahh, made of mahogany wood, six feet inches tall, with this thing called a metal knob — theres a door, Pharma.”

He stands up, dusting himself off. “I had to take drastic measures. And I will not lose another minute trying to get through your door. You never told me you were studying to be a medic, much less the year you were in. Did you realize how much remorse you’ve put me through?”

You look over your shoulder, brow quirked, “I told you five times max. Even the week before your conference. What did you think I was doing this whole time you were at work? For four years, Pharma. Were you even listening?”

He huffs defensively, wings drawn up, haughty. “I was….busy,”

“Then that’s your loss.”

“You could’ve at least chosen Delphi as your transfer why Teran?” He says, almost offended at the prospect. That’s because he is. Why choose some old, decrepit hospital when you can work in the best of the best? He’ll have to pull some strings to get you to the top and close to him.

You throw him a look. “Because I want to?”

“You can’t simply decide things on a whim, dear. Impulse seems to be your greatest friend, somehow. Listen to me when I say there’s plenty of vile cybertronians there. Even worse, you’re a female, human, medic. At some point, they’ll take advantage of your squishy form and—“

“Pharma, it’s an organic friendly hospital.” You sigh. “It’s not like the discrimination in Delphi is any better. Look, if you’re here to bother me, the window is always open. I have an exam tomorrow and I’m not wasting time trying to one up you.”

That shuts him up and you turn back to your studies, crinkling your face at the paper. If you were a lot let haggard he’d chastise your indecency towards him. But instead, he saunters close to your desk, eyeing the schedule taped on your wall, the cluttered books on the table, pens, markers, spooling about.

He halts behind your chair, narrowing his eyes, craning over your shoulder, digits impatiently tapping the metal that is his arm. You try to ignore it and focus yourself with sorting out your study cards. Circuit modules, know that. Gestation tank, yup—

Tink, tink, tink. Your eyes twitch. Oh, this bastard. As you were about to chew him off, he jabs a digit at your table and you look. It’s your past paper.

“That is incorrect,’’ He mumbles, “That too. This one is Nodulic System Array. This one is the letter B. And that—“ He swipes it off your desk to get a better look. “—Is also incorrect.”

You tilt your head, furrowed your brows and thought for a while. “It’s not coolant? Don’t you guys have engines needed to be cooled down by coolant like cars do?”

“That’s true….sometimes….” He trails off. “Coolant is used in the situation where a major component is damage. In that case, cooling fans. That is the main component and an per your question, overheating leads to several repercussions—“

“Wait, wait wait—“ You lean over your desk and scribble some more notes on the pad.

Seriously? He’s lecturing and you’re not even listening?

“Write the notes later, dear. Listen first.” He tsks, impatient.

“No I can’t, I’ll forget them. Here, just sit down.” You motion to the chair without much of a look to him.

He feels his face plate burn for a moment. The nerve. This human had the nerve to regard him with such a careless notion and yet he doesn’t mind. He looks at you, wings twitching, then away, then back. It’s not like he has anything else to do. With a sigh he pulls up another chair by your side.

“Perhaps I could spare some time for my darling pet.”

BONUS

“What is this?”

“What is what?”

“This!” He held up a notepad, and you look away without much of an expression when you see the scribbles of a miniature pharma with an ‘x’ for both eyes, the rough strokes as blood.

“You were being an ass.”

[atefingersdagger]

Cauterization (Clove/Cato one shot)

(Decided to post this little one shot from ao3 here <3)

The blade glows as it is brought from the fire, orange, and hot. Clove bites her tongue, holding back any flinches or signs of weakness that would give her away. She’s in enough pain to care little that her district partner is nearing her with a weapon.

Intimidating.

For her wound to be treated, they have to get close. Both him and a knife. One of hers of which should be in her hands, but she’s unsure of how well she can perform cauterization on her own.

Clove spits a curse at him when he presses the heated metal to her torso. It was already embarrassing enough for her to have exposed her skin to him and the bottom of her bra, in addition to being on camera. She considers slapping him. Hard.

He ought to be more careful, but Cato’s large hands were all but graceful. They lack a tender touch, unsurprisingly, and he’s likely untrained with first-aid. Had they not gotten their supplied pulverized in an explosion, she could have dealt with this with proper medication.

Either it was this, or possibly getting an infection, then letting the worst come to pass. Dying was not more desirable than her pride. If she was to go, it must be by the hands of battle, not from a sharp branch cutting her torso of all pathetic things.

“I’m guessing that hurts.” Cato says, pressing further pressure when she hisses like a feral cat.

“Fuck you.”

She winces at the burn. It’s for the best, just another thing she has to endure with all else in this god forsaken shithole. District 2 citizens must evolve or die, and she’s really not in the mood for the latter.

Going into the Games, Clove knew she’d be spared no pain. This was what she volunteered for, what she must fight against to bring honor home with her. Elsewise she’ll be bringing a rotten corpse to her meager family; her own.

Cameras are on them, a high chance they’re being broadcasted to the whole country as they speak. And knowing who exactly is watching, she decides to bite her lip to hide her pain. Deep enough that if she moved her teeth back, the pink skin would scrape right off.

“I’m going to kill you so good.” She says, barely able to watch him smirk, trying her best not to scream.

“You’re not in a position to be talking smack, Princess.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fine by me.” Cato keeps his pressure applied.

Her palms grip at the moss and pine of the ground, shutting her eyes closed. The sting is intense, all burning over the already existing throb of where she was wounded. Death is the only thing that would worsen her day.

To spite him, and for a distraction, she grabs onto his arm, where he rolled up the sleeves of his jacket. There, through the slight blonde hairs, she digs her nails in. Cato breathes out what appears to be some anger, but he’s more reserved than she had assumed previously. He’s quiet, letting her scratch him with not much reaction of his handsome face.

In some strange, fucked up way, it’s chivalrous of him. To let her inflict pain as he tries to help her. She is lucky to be from District 2, where comradery and loyalty is a strong motivator. Yes, they’ll need to kill the other to get out of here alive, but until then, there is a bond.

“I should stab you.” Clove suggests, teeth still attached to her bottom lip.

“You won’t.”

“Want to bet?”

Cato pulls the knife away from her wound. “Don’t need to.”

The ache on the side of her stomach is still exceedingly nasty, yet she’s conscious enough to knee him, steal the weapon, and straddle him. In that instant, she’s got the metal tip to his throat. Put a little more tension against him, and she’d draw blood.

“Good.” She smiles through her pain. “Because you’d lose.”

“You know I can overpower you, right?”

“Try it.” Her wrist strains, mind holding her back from piercing. There’s the exact amount of push that the skin can take before it’s slit. “But I know you won’t.”

She throws his words back into his face like the vomit that nearly spurred forth when he was tending to her injury. Cato wouldn’t win as easily, not by just pinning her down to prove a point. He is spared, however, because she’s feeling the strain, and the last thing she needs is to cause more damage to herself.

Especially if she wants to kill him sooner rather than later. No, she’ll need him alive until they kill their most taxing enemies; the boy from 11 and the stupid ‘girl on fire.’ Clove won’t admit to that she’d rather take her chances of surviving by herself than say so.

Her head is pounding from the pain and from holding back all the reactions to it. As if all the kicking and fit throwing was wreaking havoc on her insides where she internalized them. With a pounding yet simultaneously lightheaded skull, Clove pulls herself away from him, sliding the still ablaze blade into the garter that she has at her thigh for spare knives.

Two desires run amuck from the position she had over him. The first was to simply kill him, delight in the good riddance and bloody, marked up scene she’d leave behind, (although after the bloodbath and all this violence, she’s rather tired, unsure if this is for her) and flood her system with pride. And second, well, the second was something foreign and makes her want to kill him more.

Fuck him and kill him.

Cato is still on his back as he rips off the hem of his burgundy shirt. From the strength of his arms, the fabric rends easily, a sound of a ripping clear in the afternoon air. His action is strange and makes her raise a brow.

“Bandage.”

She hesitates for a second, then snatching the cloth from him. “You’re acts of kindness aren’t going to save you.”

“You’re welcome.” He ignores her venom and looking at her stomach when she rolls her bloody shirt up to expose the cauterized injury. “Make sure to keep it dry and don’t pick at it.”

“What are you, my fucking doctor?”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

“You’re not.” Clove deadpans, covering her wound. “You’d be more so if you’d shut up.”

Their fire is already dimming out, weak like she is, and unable to stay ablaze for any food they’d cook. Or for any warmth they’ll need in the night. She’s still sweating from the cauterization process, only now it’s making her more cold from the dampness.

Demanding he find more wood to burn, she spits his way at his comment on the branch that caused her to be slowed and in need of care. He has to know that the more he talks, the worse his death will be. Screw respect for her district and it’s offspring.

A smug look is on his face, igniting a heat in her lower stomach that kindles slowly like charring meat. She’s hungry, as fitting as that can be in the Hunger Games, but the pang isn’t from a need to meal. It’s for touch. Never has she been so preoccupied with the sight of a boy.

Part of his abs are on display, showing a treasure trail of golden hair. The parts of his hips, the dip of his torso, and line of the iliac crest, they all lead down to a place covered by his brown cargo pants. Somewhere that has a slight outline, giving her further ideas.

“Here.” Cato offers his water bottle, half empty, to her after putting a bundle of leaves and sticks into their fire.

She swats at his hand, holding her vest of knives and jacket in her lap. “I don’t need your help.”

“No, but you need water.”

Huffing, she accepts her another thing offered to her. Cato’s small gestures must be meant to manipulate her, make it harder to take him out when the time comes. This means he’s smart enough to know how effective that strategy can be. Although it will not work on her.

“Feeling any better?”

His question irks her for a few clear reasons. The biggest is that it almost sounds like he cares about her answer. God, he should make it easier on the both of them and start a fight that’ll take one of them out. That way, they won’t have to deal with the other’s bullshit.

“Ask me something so stupid again and I’ll cut out your tongue to make you into an Avox.”

Cato’s grin is shit-eating. “You’re hot when you make empty threats.”

“On the contrary.” She stands to him, still much shorter than him. “My threats are plenty full.”

He laughs. “Plenty full of bullshit.”

“Your body is about to be plenty full of knives.”

From years of training and her creativity, Clove would estimate she knows twenty ways to kill someone with a knife. Her fist has already reached for the smooth handle of one that can take down anything with a precise throw of stabs. Even for boys twice her size.

“I’m this close to gutting you like a fucking pig.” She says with her fingers almost touching. Although she realizes the statement lacks the spitfire needed to make it believable. What is going on with her?

“Very District 10 of you.”

Clove takes a dainty little number out, pointing it at his chest. “You want to fucking try me?”

“I just might.”

Over her features, his blue eyes roam to cause a shiver and burn over her like ice to the nude. This infuriates her; his audacity to be unbothered, rather amused that she’s threatening his life. She’s no mouse to be caught in paws and swallowed whole.

The look on his face makes her more murderous. It’s cocky and gives her a tingle. Her best way of coping with it is to imagine all the ways she’ll kill him. Not all the ways she can fuck him.

“You’ve found one hell of a way to distract me from my pain.” Clove still feels the not-so-dull throb of where her cells have been damaged. “But don’t think that it will stop me from killing you here and now.”

“Do it, then. Walk the walk, Princess.”

And she was about to, before the national anthem started to blare through the enclosed space of the arena, echoing at the sunsets. They both survey the sky in confusion; this isn’t the typical time for this bullshit. She thinks of still using this opportunity to kill him, throw her dagger into his exposed neck where she can see the slight pump of a blue vein under his tan skin.

An announcement, the only announcement for today is quite the shocker. More so than the wood that splintered into her when she tumbled over roots. Two tributes may be crowned victors if they originate from the same district? That’s fucking insane.

Clove takes a glance at him first, seeing his stone face soften from the confusion then hardening back into concrete from thought and calculation. Perhaps taking into account that they no longer need to literally be at each other’s throats. Considering the options of survival too.

“You heard that, right?” Cato asks.

“I did.”

“So, we both can win?”

Clove shrugs, sheathing her knife. “Think so. Unless we’re both sharing the same delusion.”

He smiles oh, so genuinely. Affectionately, dare she say it (which she doesn’t particularly want to), and it makes her queasy. Not unlike the nauseous kind, and she blames her loss of blood from earlier.

Cato is looking at her in an odd way. As if she’s a gift offered by the Gamemakers during their famous feasts. That she’s not the mess she surely is right now with her tangled, greasy hair, dirt, and blood stained from hands to face. What she washed off in the shallow end of the lake this morning was only replaced by today’s spoils of war.

They’re in the most unattractive of situations, and she feels rather unattractive herself, but her inflamed skin reminds her she’s alive and that it’ll be easier to get home with him on her side. Permanently. So she’s currently thinking of something other than murder or violence.

The wind flows through her fingers as she lifts them to his face. At his cheekbone is still a ring of purple from where he was stung by a muttation of a wasp. Only yesterday did they think of pulling out the stingers by force, and that was a whole different issue of soreness.

Unflinching, he squints at her choice of touch. Gentleness? Yeah, its not her thing nor does she know what to do with it. Clove figures if she wants to be talented at everything she attempts, she’ll need to do this with confidence too.

“Should we stop fighting?” She questions.

“Do you even want to?”

“It would save us a lot of time.”

Cato shows his teeth as he smiles. A rare sight, genuine at his tooth enamel. “Can’t see you forfeiting your sadistic nature for me.”

“I won’t be.” She scratches at his face harmlessly with her unkempt nails. “I’ll save it all for everyone else.”

“But what if I want it all for myself?”

Is he... flirting with her? The quirk of his faded brow renders her reserved move useless. The answer is yes. He is being overt.

Clove decides to play along. “Would you even know what to do with all my sadism if you got it?”

“Yeah.”

Every time she takes in a breath, her injury flares in anger. This hurt makes it rather difficult to give back in coyness. Thankfully, she doesn’t back down easily, and pain has never stopped her.

“Oh?” She distracts with a quirk of her own dark brow. “Is that so?”

He nods. “I would, hmm, I would lay it on some nice silk sheets, then screw it into next Sunday. All after cauterizing it’s wound, mind you.”

She laughs with utter free-range. His audacity. And uniquely annoying sense of humor.

The worst part about it is that it’s working. But why the hell would he want her when he’s desirable enough to get any other girl? If he’s into her beyond this arena, then he must have a screw loose himself.

“Too bad I don’t see any silk sheets around here.”

“That is a shame.”

Cato dares to put his hand on her side, the good one untouched by her own dried blood and blisters. Strangely, she doesn’t stop him. They are even now, physical contact not violent reached.

Tilting her head to the side, Clove gives him a smirk. “Tell me more about what you’d do to my sadism if you got it?”

“I’d hope to treat it just right.”

“Introduce it to new things?”

Bracing herself for embarrassment, she’s expecting him to catch onto what she’s saying and lose interest. Sex in District 2 is not uncommon, and it’s not much of a taboo topic. There might not be much education on it, but training centers make all the girls take some form of contraceptive if they wish to prepare for the Games.

Clove is insinuating she’s a virgin. Something that is normal, but not necessarily a thing many people want to be. Especially a volunteer whose risking their lives. Dying a virgin was even looked down upon by fellow trainees as far as she knows. Although, she never paid much mind to anyone or anything else that wasn’t serving the purpose of bettering herself.

In the depths of his eyes, she registers that realization. Judgment does not come her way or pity. Cato only continues his point.

“I’d do whatever it’d want me to do.”

“Does that include kissing it?” Clove asks, moving her hand to his broad shoulder.

At her ear, he bends down to whisper. The puffs of air are warm and tickles at the shell. Enough to nearly erase the pain that still emanates deeply from her abdomen.

“If that’s what you want.” Cato says lowly, voice like wheels on gravel.

She starts to giggle but stops herself by biting her tongue, then digging her nails into his neck as she had his arms. Fucking bastard, making her act like some schoolgirl with a pathetic little crush. Absolutely not.

“You better do it before I change my mind, then.”

“You got it.”

His lips are warm, like the blade was as it burned her, but this is pleasant. The main difference being that pleasure, yet the process was similar in how he uses pressure. Starting with a hover, to contact with the smooth surface, only a bit more firm, and finally, a sturdy, lusty press that is almost spiteful.

Clove finds she likes when he’s burning her with his lips or letting her be the cautery he heats up to a dull light and uses to blister his fingers. The ones he’s using to hold her jaw carefully to angle her until her mouth opens on its own. His tongue is just as hot, and if he used it elsewhere, she’d certainly be branded by him in a way that left no scars but was nonetheless as permanent.

She could be experiencing exsanguination, and his actions can serve as a sudden technique to stop it. A quick way to treat her; cutting out all the sick and infected, replacing it with a scorch that stops the blood loss if not cleaning it all together. This is a pain that she doesn’t mind.

Actually, Clove quite likes it. How his fingers create indents in her flesh, enough that might bruise but in the most satisfying of ways. Like when she trains, knowing all of her physical strife is paying off. The stretch of her ligaments when he picks her up and presses her against the nearest tree.

With her legs wrapped around his waist, the perspective is better. She’s finally above him, making him need to tilt his head up. That little movement; the way he tips his chin upward to reach her mouth. Makes her feel powerful, even with her wound that is screeching bloody hell for her to not exert any parts of her body.

His lips reach her neck, hands under her shirt again, this time more delicate with how he handles her. Sighing, Clove drags her fingers through his hair, thinking of all the other strands of blonde she’s seen elsewhere on his body. Bad idea, though, because when she tries to move her hips, a sharp discomfort surges through her.

The type that is in between her legs and the type that radiates at the spot of cauterized offence. She hisses again, swinging a pendulum of keeping up the moment or stopping it. Luckily for her, Cato decides on her behalf.

“Maybe we’ll continue this another time.” He sets her down to the dirt with her boots planted. “Can’t have you weakened from a little thorn.”

“Shut up.” Clove pulls him down into a quick kiss by the collar of his jacket. “You better promise me we’ll continue this, or I'll kill you myself.”

“When we win,” his chuckle is in her ear, tickling her with shivers traveling over the top layers of her skin where his breath touches. Seems he’s found her weakness. “We can do this as much as you want. Cauterization and all.”

[starwalker03]

angst brain worm. AU of WMLP where due to magic or soulmate stuff when one of the original team gets injured, all of them get scars or a mark where the scar is. The cast getting a back row seat to see horrible things happening to each other but can't pin point who got what scar. Someone is getting whipped no one but Dick knows who. The possibility to communicate with self harm. Wally getting out of the speedforce and seeing all these scars.

listen here you little shit-

I love the energy but I just considered my dark au wherein the whole team is one poly group of soulmates and took psychic damage. I need to go lie down.

okay i laid down and then didn't come back. anyway.

that is. horrible. knowing that one of their loved ones is going through something, not even knowing from pain how bad it is, only having a scar/mark. watching it shift and change as the injury heals.

there's probably a while where Kaldur is so confused because he keeps getting so many that heal way too quickly. they can't be Conner's, he isn't so easily wounded nor does he have a healing factor (as far as I'm aware? someone fact check me lmao. certainly not one as quick as Dick's) but it can't be Artemis or M'Gaan. finding out Dick is alive by science experiment means and realising that was all being done to Dick. the team always knowing if something is happening to Dick because those marks heal the quickest.

Wally getting them all at once is horrific to think about. especially cause he's just come out of the speed force; for a moment he thinks they're his own scars. he doesn't know what happened. and then he realises they're not real scars they're soul marks and his stomach drops.

Oh my god. everyone would have the brand from Slade. they would all know that Slade had branded Dick. not just marked him as something Slade owns, but specifically with such a barbaric instrument as white-hot metal. the knowledge as they watch it settle into their skin that Dick must have smelt his own burning flesh.

the scar on Dick's eye. seeing it slowly but surely track its way across his face, knowing that it's purposeful, not an accident, that there is probably something very bad going on right now while Dick takes this cut.

Okay I have to stop thinking about Dick. who else has had the shit kicked out of them.

man. M'Gaan's first field mission. she doesn't get a lot of them, but Bee would have sent her on at least one before letting her work with Renegade. the team seeing these injuries and panicking because it's not Dick. and it can't be Conner. and surely not Kaldur, he's locked up tight.

which leaves Meg and Artemis. Artemis is the only one who can logically surmise it's M'Gaan. fucking hell. M'Gaan was pretty much only hurt by fire or force in the show, she never dealt with stabs and genuine blows. she's a support fighter, really, until at least season two. and the whole team had a sort of thing in their heads of babying M'Gaan. knowing she's going through something, no ideas as to what, but that this could be the first time she's dealing with real genuine inescapable pain, without anyone by her side to help.

I can't handle this shit right now.

(Wally asking Dick which marks are from Dick, which ones are from other team members. Dick looking at his own scars on someone else's body and realising exactly what he's gone through and reliving it anew through Wally's eyes)

[trailblczed]

Like a fyrefly to a flame, hunter seeks stellaron except when he is found there is no detainment laying in wait behind a barbed trap, only a friend who wishes to smooth the crease between his brows.

“ Caelus! ” There are few she raises her voice for, even fewer who she risks garnering throwaway glances from faceless crowds, but he is one of them. On this planet dethatched from the greater cosmos yet possessing strange forces able to lure in so many from distant lands, she stops before him with ash smudged on her cheek and concern stoking the flicker of her eyes over the whole of him. Molten Knight could hardly amuse the notion their group had been the only ones put under the thumb of a director all too keen to preen about their structured sacrifices.

Firefly knew she would be bothered till she saw him well with her own eyes; she did not think Silver Wolf would be particularly pleased if she bothered her with making another check-in.

“ Your experience...wasn't too similar to Penacony, I hope. ” She's tripping on her words, on the careful balance of asking after him and keeping her own haunts from bleeding onto his own. “ What I mean is, I wanted to check in with you before we part ways. Face to face. ”

Caelus has seen water before- obviously- but something about this fountain he came across in his slow walk through the nation of Fontaine is.... different. Maybe it's just the timing of finding it, or how the entire area seems so.. calm, pleasant. There wasn't a ton of foot traffic, but it was lively enough to feel comforting. The Nameless stood to the side of the walkway, simply staring at the water flowing through the architecture for who knows how long until his legs started shaking, telling him it was long enough, and that if he wants to continue to gaze at the fountain he should sit down somewhere. There is a bench in the area he spots, far enough away from everything that he won't be too close to people, but close enough that he can still watch the people come and go, as well as see the water.

It's a struggle of a walk, feet partially dragging as he forces his legs to go forward, but he gets there eventually, practically crashing into the bench as he takes his seat and lets out a deep exhale as his head tilts back. A brief glance at the sky ( how pretty a blue it was, only a few clouds scattered here and there ), and the boy tilts his head back down, reorienting his attention to his original point of interest- the fountain. Why it's so captivating is beyond him, but who is he to question anything when he doesn't know the answer to anything. All the silver cares about is that it's keeping his focus, lifting the anguish from his heart ( despite it being a minimal amount- better than nothing ), and let his mind wander into areas that keep the events of the last several hours at bay.

It's almost peaceful, in a way- to just let himself exist in the moment, listening to nothing but the sound of rushing water, the chatter of folks, the wind brushing by his ear. It's nice.. but nice things never last long ( something he is learning the hard way over and over and over and over and ov- ). Despite allowing his brain to talk a walk to peaceful tunes, the song ends as a sound stand out in the crowd- a metallic clanking at a steady and gentle pace. Eyes are pulled away from the only source of peace he's had to the origin of the agitating sound, discovering it to belong to some sort of patrolling peacekeeper.. a robotic peacekeeper. Though clearly not the same guards as what Caelus and his crew had dealt with in their "film"... the sound is almost identical ( which makes sense- same material [or close enough] ). Each clang of each step the peacekeeper took, the tighter the lad's chest felt. Each step the harder it felt to breathe. Each step bringing images of a lass of indigo hair, of a man with white locks, slowly painted over with a shiny grey figures- of a terrified hand reaching for the two- of a worm's eye view of a lass being dragged away-------- GO AWAY. ENOUGH. Just look back at the water, Caelus. It's fine. They're fine, you're fine. Stop!

A familiar voice calling his name jolts him to the surface, not even bothering to turn to the person before they move in front of him anyway- if he felt it hard to breathe now, surely the stopping of his heart doesn't help upon seeing a dark spot of ash stuck to his friend's face-- No. No no no no nononononononon- The panic is likely present in his eyes, but he does his best to shove it down, to not look like the broken disaster he feels like remain calm. A hand reaches out, grasping Firefly's wrist in a tighter than what one would deem normal hold. She is real, right? He isn't in a dream? She's not in danger- she doesn't seem to be, she's relaxed if not a tad nervous(? why nervous?) as she stumbles out words. Caelus' other hand reaches up to hover over the ash on her cheek, scared that if he touches it he'll hurt her. Just because he's broken doesn't mean he should break others.

The Nameless vaguely hears a question ( one in which he'd say "it was quite the same [smile]" ), but it's hard to hear over his heart beating out of his ears. He'd ask for her to repeat the question if he wasn't so overwhelmed with concern for her. His own well being comes after all others. His voice is raspy, barely above a whisper, words croaked out as if he had never spoken a word in years.

❛ Wh..what happened..? ❜

[roomsofmyheart]

Merthur Week 2022

Day 1 - “this will be the last time you lie to me.” + smart!arthur

“This will be the last time you lie to me.” Uther’s voice booms in the throne room, empty except for himself and Arthur. Everyone that had been dismissed had scattered quickly at the dark look on the King’s face after Arthur made his proclamation. “Now tell me the truth about what happened with your manservant.”

“I wasn’t lying father,” Arthur responds evenly, his face a carefully constructed mask with years spent perfecting it. “It was not Merlin that was caught using magic. It was someone else using a magic of some sort to disguise themselves as him. What better way of navigating the citadel unscathed than as the personal servant to the Crown Prince?”

Uther’s frown lessened slightly, although he still looked unconvinced.

“Do you have any proof of this?”

Arthur reaches into his pocket as he walks up the empty long table set before the throne and sets a pouch in front of him.

“This was found at the last sighting of the intruder in the tunnels.” Arthur inclines his head towards it as Uther reaches for the pouch and undoes the drawstrings, pulling out a pendant with a shimmering jewel almost the size of his palm attached to a thin chain. “I had Gaius take a look and he said the mark on the back of the gem has traces to a type of illusion magic called a glamour,” he finishes as his father turns it over in his hands to reveal the rune mark etched into the metal. Arthur grips his other hand behind his back to prevent himself from fidgeting. Any sign of weakness could be interpreted as a tell for lying by his father.

Uther takes a moment to run his fingers over the rune before speaking, “How are you sure that this doesn’t belong to your manservant?” He looks up at him, the frown on his mouth settling instead into a firm line and his eyes sharp as the knife’s edge that Arthur meticulously traverses.

He firms his resolve before speaking, “Merlin was found knocked out with a minor head injury in one of the storage rooms. One of the servants found him while we were on the intruder’s tail down in the tunnels. Gaius is treating him for it as we speak.” Arthur gauges his father’s reaction as he finishes. 

It appears his anger has died down to a simmer as he takes in Arthur’s words for a moment before speaking.

“Alright then. I want to hear full reports from the guards and have a word with Gaius about all of this when he is done with the boy.” The dismissal is clear in his tone and Arthur is all too glad to take his leave.

Once outside the throne room doors, he heaves in a shaky breath. Lying to his father was always a dangerous path to tread. Not that what he said didn’t have any sentiment of truth to it. Merlin had been found unconscious with a minor head injury, just not in the storage rooms like he said.

Arthur still remembered the brilliant gold flaring in his eyes as he deflected a dagger thrown by his look-alike sailing through the air towards him. He’d been so shocked that the intruder had managed to get a hit on Merlin before escaping but they’d dropped the pendant in the fuss. It had been a lucky thing that Arthur had ordered the guards to split up and search the tunnels. He was able to quickly get Merlin to Gaius’ chambers without running into any of them.

Merlin has magic.

The thought had been put aside until the most urgent matters of this whole affair had been dealt with. Now he turned the thought over and over in his mind as he made his way to Gaius’ chambers. There was no way to pretend that he was mistaken in what he saw. It had been clear as day that the dagger had been sailing towards his heart until its journey was interrupted.

Arthur remembered the stricken look on Merlin’s face, how he desperately shouted his name as he raised his hand to stop the blade in mid-air. Most of all, he remembered the relief in his eyes that had quickly turned to fear. That memory tempered his anger at having such a secret kept from him.

He shook his head to clear the memory from his mind as he reached the threshold of the physician’s chambers. 

Magic or not, Merlin had saved his life. And he is the only friend he ever had. He’d be damned if he was ever going to let his father harm a single hair on his head. That didn’t mean that Merlin didn’t owe him some answers though.

Taking in a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

[meowww-ffxiv]

Not that he'd ever acknowledge it (too scary?) But Liios had a gaggle of fanatical fans in Gridania, mostly wealthy women, who would have stalked and harassed him with their "affections" if Tataru didn't run counterintelligence the MOMENT she found out.

Estinien, unfortunately, had run into some of these people before. He was in Gridania minding his own business when Hoary Boulder and another B-list ex-Scion snagged him like. Estinien!!! Someone is having untoward thoughts about your man!!!

And Estinien said, "Liios is his own man."

The way these ex-Scions exchanged a knowing look between them at his words irritated him a little, but he put it out of mind.

"Besides, thoughts do no harm," Estinien continued. "So long as they stay firmly inside their owner's head...which I don't suppose they have, if you two have heard something about this."

"More like her purse," B-list ex-Scion 2 whispered conspiratorially. "She bought a strand of Liios's hair for thirteen million gils. We overheard the exasperated porters talking about it at Buscaroon's Druther."

Estinien's first thought was this woman could be practicing dark arts and she was trying to curse his man-- Liios. Who was his own man. His second thought was about what Tataru told him about certain people's obsession with the Warrior of Light. His third thought had already flown out of his mouth before he could finish thinking it: "Where is this woman?"

Hoary Boulder and B-list ex-Scion were THRILLED that they had proven that Estinien did care. They were quick to supply him with the details, and he had to wonder how long exactly they had been investigating this. But he took them at their words for now because he got his priorities straight, and in true dragoon fashion, broke into the manor in question and looked for himself.

He found an entire large room in her manor filled with trinkets and baubles that Liios might have touched, and many things that did once belong to him. There were dented shoulderpads and arm-braces upon which were engraved the familiar, knot-like patterns Liios carefully embossed into his metal equipment.

Portraits and sketches of him, on the walls in frames or simply pinned with red pins. And several stacks of perfumed letters...

The entire place sent a chill down Estinien's spine. Who the fuck even managed to get their hands on things Liios discarded? Few as those things were, even, given how good Liios was at recycling damaged or outdated equipment?

Anyway. There might have been a small explosion.

Estinien and Tataru tracked down the nasty little bastard who'd been selling those things to the crazy fanatics at a premium, and who could he be but the scraps buyer Liios usually dealt with.

But it turned out that Liios already knew what he was doing and didn't mind. He seemed blissfully unaware of how insane some people were about the idea of him. And Estinien didn't have the vocabulary to tell Liios how this was Bad.

The intensity of his own agitation gave Estinien a "huh" moment, actually. In his travels, he had definitely heard about these types of collectors before. Fury smite the things Estinien had heard were done to Raubahn-related memorabilia when he was still the "Bull of Ala Mhigo".

But this was different. This was about Liios. Someone who Estinien--

Someone who--

...

Liios would've sneezed at those perfumed letters, that was for sure. He also preferred to speak directly with someone and spend a whole night catching up with them rather than receiving words by such proxy. Estinien could see, in his mind's eye, the way Liios would smile awkwardly if he ever saw that room himself. The way he always did when he wasn't sure what to do with a compliment that in truth had crossed some severe boundary with him. He was never very good at rejecting "goodwill", in any of its forms.

And...Liios despised seeing likenesses of himself. He was always delighted to see Ptolemy, but his own face? He turned the mirrors away in his and Estinien's quarters in Razd-at-Han. He brushed his hair without one. And Estinien was the one who applied the kohl for Liios, every morning that they were together. He'd have freaked if he saw all those drawings of himself everywhere.

Estinien truly wanted to burn that room down again. But he settled for the reports of arson around Gridania following that night and the fifty-some million gils the woman apparently spent on mercenaries and soothsayers, trying to find the culprit. And Liios himself, who smiled brightly and with great relief whenever he returned after a long day to see Estinien already waiting in their (unofficially) shared apartment.

[sillyguy99]

* don't look now, but i lost my shoe.

(Undertale Sans x Reader)

Chapter Five: (woo-hoo) * but you know i'm yours

[Index | Previous | Next]

               "Well, I'll be honest with you, officer," the robot says, propping one leg over the other. "You're better off arresting me on the spot."

               He's not joking.

               Endless questions fill your mind, the number increasing the more pages you turn past. There are all sorts of reasons Mettaton was meant to be behind bars, most of these related to his fame and the dangerous games he played with Frisk. While you could save yourself time by listening to his advice, you're still obliged to carry on with your procedure; you still have three whole months left to determine whether he truly needed to be sent to jail or not.

               "I can't do that yet," you reply, sighing. "Not only have we just met, but… I need to be sure about why I'd be taking you in. It wouldn't be right to dismiss my research this quickly."

               "If that's what you wish, I guess I can't stop you,” he retorts, frowning. “But I will say you're wasting your time with me. If other monsters are arrested daily for minor crimes, imagine what could be done with me if you turned in those records! I mean it when I say I want to come clean." There's a brief stutter to his tone, one you can barely grasp before he returns with a confident facade. "I did... awful things to get where I am now. My show having thousands and thousands of followers wasn't obtained as humbly as many of my fans think, and I want to seek change, so please… Allow me to make up for everything I did."

               You stay silent, a debate taking place in your mind as you decide whether to be blunt with him or not. 

               You observe him from head to toe, trying to reach a decision. 

               "If you really do want to come clean, sir," you begin, bracing yourself with a deep breath. "Then why do you still continue with your show? Wouldn't it be a better option to cancel it until this problem is dealt with? And why have you chosen to look after Frisk, if your lifestyle is so… chaotic and dangerous, as you claim?"

               "I owe them." The robot's answer is simple. He combs through his hair, closing his eyes as he faces down and lets out a heavy sigh. "Frisk was the one responsible for my career’s success, after all. Hadn't they freed us all from the Surface… I would have not been offered the technological advancements for fixing my body."

               His response makes you take another glimpse of his body, how detailed the craft is making it easy for you to believe he could pass off as a regular human with minor adjustments and longer clothes to cover up some of the metal parts surrounding him. 

               "Alright, but what I said before still stands,” you state, smiling. “I will be contacting you shortly to determine our second meeting. Any doubts or questions you might have, sir?"

               "Nothing for the moment. I'll see you soon, then, officer."

               "Promise me you’ll have some good news next time we meet?" you taunt, a subtle smile showing through.

               Surprisingly, that seems to lift Mettaton's mood. 

               He uncrosses his legs, stands up from his seat, and offers a hand out to you, his eyes and smile just as bright as his metal coating.

               "Promise," he replies, winking. "I'll be awaiting your call." 

• • • • •

               "what's this for?" Sans asks, irises parting from the gift you set over the counter. 

               He looks at you instead, gaze furrowed.

               "An apology," you reply, firm in your words. "I meant it when I said I feel sorry for what I did. Maybe this… doesn't take away the fact I got drunk, used you as a therapist, and then thought you were hitting on me, but… I do hope it's enough to get you started at the Surface – Y- You'll see what I mean when you open it at home."

               "not that i don't appreciate this, but ya know what this looks like to outsiders, right?"

               You don't dare tell him about yesterday and how much your life appeared to be crumbling apart this week. You wanted nothing more than to be free from Jessie, yet current conditions keep you stuck to him. What you once viewed as a dream has gradually become a never-ending nightmare, your hopeful and optimistic view over marriage turning continuously sour the longer Jessie continues to stay labelled as your husband.

               "Please, take it,” you insist, voice finding strength. "Let him think what he wants to think. I know I'm being faithful, and I don't need his permission to make new friends."

               "i get that, but-"

               "I'll divorce him as soon as I-"

               Without a warning, your body surrounds itself by blue.

               You're leapt over the counter and held still by a thin veil of magic, rear meeting the floor and head ducked under the counter.

               "this isn't a safe place for you anymore," Sans explains, pointing with his irises over to Grillby, whose fire now glows yellow instead of orange. 

               He looks distressed, his reason for it making your stomach churn wildly.

               Jessie sits on a stool farther away from yours. 

               He doesn't notice your presence, kept busy by Grillby distracting him with recent additions to the nightly menu.

               "he's been visitin' this place ever since he messaged me on overnet. tracked down where i work, and now he won't stop, always askin' to see me and questionin' 'bout what i did for you to end up interested in me."

               Hidden behind the counter, you feel you've reached your lowest point in life. 

               Anger takes over, making you spout the first thing on your mind. 

               "So, he… He really dares to keep doing that even after he…" It vanishes quickly, Sans's gaze piercing you, the confusion in his irises and the concern in his body language stopping you from blowing up. "A- After he…”

               Rather than commenting anything over your state, the monster walks over to a mini cooler, where he retrieves a bottle of water. He gives it to you, then leans back against the counter, attempting to keep cover. You take the water, thank him, and stare at Grillby from afar, noticing he's already moved on to his next customer, relieved from his task now that you're hidden behind the counter. 

               "This is a disaster," you mutter, huffing into your water bottle before taking a gulp. "I… I don't know what happened for things to end like this. W- Wasn't I just having a few drinks to unwind and stuff? How did that lead to all this?"

               Having to tend to a customer, it takes the skeleton a moment to get back to your side and respond. 

               Once he's done, he leans back again, staring down at you.

               “dunno about it myself," he replies, rubbing his neck. 

               A button snaps open when he does so, forcing you to focus your eyes elsewhere, feeling guilty despite knowing you aren't doing anything wrong, as Jessie so claimed, and not to mention, you're still with him despite him doing the same thing he had accused you of.

               An eye for an eye never ends well – of that, you're fully aware of. 

               You don't want to stoop to his level.

               Not today, and not ever.

               Hearing him continue, you set those thoughts aside, determined to hear him out in spite of your mind demanding reclusion and no further embarrassment on your part. 

               "you gotta be more careful if you're not gonna divorce ‘im yet."

               You bring your knees close to your chest, hugging your legs and leaving him more space to walk around. 

               The water bottle remains beside you, half of it gone. 

               "Still, he… He cheated on me. Why go through all the trouble of saying he wants me, i- if he's just gonna do that in the end?"

               That's enough for Sans to stop what he's doing, the drink he'd been pouring for a customer almost spilling out. 

               "uh…. mind repeatin' that? don't believe i heard ya well, pal."

               Nodding, you sigh, shuddering in the process. 

               "He cheated on me. With someone who looked similar to me."

               "so he did that with his type – no surprise there. but from what he said to me these past few days here, i honestly didn't think he'd cheat. it's more like he’s… obsessed with you or somethin', so it's surprisin’ to hear that."

               You raise an eyebrow, estranged by his words.

               "You really think he's obsessed?”

               “more ‘know’, than ‘think’, actually.”

               Chills rise when you listen to Jessie's voice closer by.

               Sans cuts off the conversation and remains the same, unfazed as he hands over the drink to a customer and tends to Jessie next. 

               "Have any water? Your boss says I've gotta buy something, if I don't wanna be kicked out of here."

               "sounds ‘bout right. you've been here for way too long without payin’."

               "That's 'cuz I'm trying to get the truth out of you."

               "already told you i’m not–" Sans pauses for a split second, making air quotes before going back to a professional state. "–'screwing' your wife. i'm just a bartender here, buddy. ain't my fault i got assigned to her for my background check, in the process."

               "That's bullshit. I know you must've done something."

               "nothin’ aside from tryna be her friend."

               "With benefits, I'm sure."

               You stifle a laugh right as Sans rolls his irises.

               That moment doesn't last long though, fear returning when you see Jessie focus his eyes on the gift you left for the monster.

               "Are you two-timing even her now?" he asks, grinning. "That sure's low. Who's that for, anyway? Some other customer you want to screw with next?"

               "that's a gift from a customer. wouldn't mind tellin’ you who they are, if you'd just drop off the subject 'bout me falsely sleepin' with your wife."

               "I still don't buy it. That look on your face says it all. You're a two-timer, and I'm gonna prove it."

               "suit yourself, then. here's your water, buddy."

               "Know what? I'm gonna call her right now and tell her she's wasting her time with you."

               "just take the water, pay up, and do whatever it is ya wanna do. capiche? you're holdin' me back from other customers, and your yappin' ain't helpin', either.”

               Though it's become clear to you that Jessie's drunk, given by how persistent he is – more than usual – and the subtle slur in his voice, you still make haste to silence your phone and put it off vibrate, heart caught in your throat when you're done. 

               Your moment of calm is soon forced to end when you hear him speak up again.

               "How about this? I tell her to send your background check off to another detective, and you delete her number. I won't bother you anymore after that."

               "prove it."

               "Prove what?"

               "that you'll keep your end of the bargain."

               Jessie laughs. To anyone else around, it would look like the bartender's joking around with a customer. In your eyes, it's everything but a light-hearted situation, how hidden you currently are being sufficient proof that there's no fixing whatever you once had with him. 

               "I don't need to prove anything to you, bonebag. Hands off my wife, else I'll make sure your background's tainted enough that she won't even need to waste a single damn month researching about you."

               Beyond tired of hiding, you attempt to stand up. 

               Magic holds you back as quickly as you try to do that, challenge present in Sans's irises, still facing Jessie despite using a hand to hold you back. 

               "try it," he replies, tone dry. "dunno what the hell's goin' on with you two, but i trust it's not gonna affect me. this was your wife's rest spot, and you're ruinin' it. she's my path assigned for a better life at the surface, and now you're tryna ruin that, too."

               There's a brief pause, followed by a rough change in the skeleton's tone.

               “so either act like a normal customer, or get the hell outta my sight.”

[Index | Previous | Next]

[mayxthexforce]

@mutatiio said:

it had started several weeks ago. something small, something irritating. a typically overly proper maul had left clothes on the floor. they had been cleaned away without a word. then he left out dishes, making messes and leaving them, not communicating where he’d be going or for how long. nothing was ever said. disrespect never met with punishment. then it dawned on him. his former master’s favoured delivery; delayed punishment. the act of letting things build up. letting maul assume the moment had passed or that sidious had forgotten. kenobi was doing the same now, he was certain of it. this amount of goodness or patience could not exist in a being. it was then that he grew distant. tense. and when nothing came?? he acted out further.  tonight was the worst he’s done. kenobi was out all day, not home until late. their shared kitchen was a sty. maul had no need to cook his food, yet cooking utensils were out and dirtied. sink full. laundry ignored.  their room was no better. clean clothes pulled from drawers and left askew, thrown on the floor and on the bed, favouring kenobi’s side.  maul lay curled on his side, blanket pulled and tucked under his chin, metal legs close to his chest. he could not sleep, anticipation keeping him alert. dread for what he’s sure to come, keeping him searching for kenobi close by. there was nothing left to do but wait for the jedi to return. 

The changes in Maul's behavior hadn't gone unnoticed by Obi-Wan.

He wasn't sure what was causing it. He'd asked Maul a few times if he was feeling okay, and the answer was always a positive one– short, usually cold, but a solid 'yes'. Even if Obi-Wan could tell SOMETHING was wrong, he couldn't exactly pry the answer out of Maul. So, he just waited for something else to happen. Anything. Either for Maul to open up and find a solution for whatever was wrong or... well, he didn't want to think about the other option. But he had already dealt with a distant lover once.

Obi-Wan's day was quite long. He was tired, sore and hungry and honestly, he wanted nothing more than to get home and just lie down.

When he walked in, humming out a soft "I'm home." the first thing he spotted was Sithkiller —the lothcat he'd allowed Anakin to name—, her face and paws covered in something greasy.

"Naughty girl, what did you get into?" he sighed.

As if to show him, she led him to the mess in the kitchen. His brows furrowed. Maul didn't cook often– not for himself at least, but it wasn't like him to make such a mess the few times he did so. It only made his concern grow. But first, he cleaned up. The kitchen took almost an hour. Then, he grabbed Sithkiller and went into the bedroom to get a towel. That was a whole other mess. He paused at the door, caught off guard. Then continued his way to the closet, picking up clothes off the ground as he went and leaving them on the bed. He'd deal with that after cleaning Sithkiller.

She didn't like the water. His arm suffered the consequences. But a few scratches didn't deter him from cleaning her up. He applied bacta once he was done, and now, with everything clean, he went to the bedroom. Sorting and folding clothes could wait. He just picked everything up and stuck it in the closet. Then, he sat down on the bed, finally removing his boots and layers. And lied down with a content groan.

"I swear, I should have named that cat Jedikiller," he sighed. Tired, yet amused. "She doesn't like water any more than she did back when I got her."