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phantomrose96 · 1 year ago

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Sham Sacrifice

(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)

...

Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.

Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.

“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”

“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”

“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”

“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.

Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.

And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.

“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”

“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”

Not a chance.

“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”

Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.

“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”

“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”

“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”

At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.

“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”

“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.

His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.

“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”

Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“The lambda, Jack.”

“The lambda?”

“Check it again.”

Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.

“What about--?”

“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”

Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.

“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”

“Jack,” Maddie said.

“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”

“—Jack—”

“—A+ worthy—”

“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”

“It—huh.”

Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.

She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.

“That can’t… no.”

He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.

Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.

Confusion made his face tense.

“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”

He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.

“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”

Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.

Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.

Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.

“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”

Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.

“Who knows?” Vlad lied.

…

The math didn’t work.

Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.

The math didn’t work.

Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.

The math didn’t work.

The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.

And it should never have worked.

They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.

The ecto-ether layer.

The latent activation stitches in space fabric.

The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.

The positive-feedback crystallization theory.

And still nothing worked.

All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.

Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.

Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.

It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.

Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.

This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.

“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”

Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.

Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.

The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.

0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.

Not a mouse.

“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”

Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.

1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.

“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”

Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.

Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.

Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.

37%. At best.

“Jack.”

“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”

“—Jack—”

“—like an octopus—”

“Jack.”

“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”

Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.

65kg, an estimate

10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.

A human’s amount of ecto-potential.

Maddie wrote.

And she wrote.

And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.

138%.

Threshold, and then some.

Comfortable, easily, then some.

For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.

A breakthrough.

A revelation.

A pure eureka moment.

Jack and Maddie were silent.

Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.

“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.

“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”

Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.

“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”

“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”

“Not a dead body.”

“It had to be lethal, Mads—”

“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”

“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”

“Then what?” Maddie asked.

Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.

“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”

Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.

“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”

“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”

Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.

Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.

“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”

Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.

Above their head, birds were singing.

Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.

…

At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.

“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”

“Naturally.”

“We found something that maybe works.”

“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”

“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”

Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.

“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”

“What does Jack think?”

“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”

“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”

“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”

“You sound like your mind is made up.”

“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”

“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”

“Vlad.”

“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”

Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.

“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.

Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.

“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”

“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything else, my dear?”

“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”

Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.

And Vlad vanished into his portal.

(Chapter 2)

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS #its my favorite headcanon so here you get a fic of it

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marvelstoriesepic · 5 days ago

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Beneath the constellations

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Scared of needles!Reader

Summary: You are a needle-phobic but somehow agree to get a small, meaningful friendship tattoo with your best friends Darcy and Jane.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Needle phobia; mild panic; anxiety; physical discomfort; descriptions of a tattoo needle; nervous rambling; comfort

Author’s Note: This again is a request from one of my sweetest mutuals! I adore you, my dear and I hope you like what I did with your interesting and so creative idea ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

Your knee is bouncing. Your heart is racing. The design is folded up in your hands - a little tattoo that is so simple, tiny, meaningful - but your palms are sweaty and you can’t stop assaulting the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

The walls of the tattoo parlor are soft with shadows. Dark navy paint. There is low music humming along but it’s not soothing anything inside you. Sterilization hangs in the air and there’s also ink and something smoky - cedarwood or sage. It stays at the back of your throat like a ghost you swallowed by accident.

The waiting room is actually pretty aesthetically pleasant but you feel like choking on your own spit.

The cold vinyl bench beneath you vibrates with your leg rapidly moving up and down and up and down.

“I can’t do this,” you mutter lowly. “Oh my god. I’m gonna pass out.”

Darcy, sitting on your left, gives you a smile that doesn’t ease you at all. “You’re not getting open-heart surgery, babe. You’ve got to chill your beans.”

Jane, sitting on your right, grabs your leg to still its movement. She probably got annoyed at being shaken with the whole bench. “It’s so small, I’m sure you will barely feel it,” she tries to reassure you.

Darcy nudges you. “And it will stay on your body forever.”

“This is not helping at all, Darc,” you half whine, half grumble. “Can’t we just make this temporary, or something? Like, I don’t know, draw it on with a sharpie?”

“Hell nah,” Darcy complains. “This is for life,” she goes on, pointing wildly at all of you three. “We are going to seal the deal. Make it forever, officially.”

You want to laugh. Or scream. Or run. Or disappear.

A part of you thought this would be fine. That you could sit here like a normal adult with a normal nervous system and be needled with grace and honor. That the tattoo you promised you’d get with your best friends - the tiny one, the subtle one, the one you talked about under a summer sky, lying on your backs in a parking lot eating cold fries - would somehow feel like a small ceremony. Like something important.

Instead, your palms are damp and your stomach is a washing machine of dread and iced coffee. It turns round and round and round in circles, making you instinctively look for a nearby trash bin.

The door creaks open.

And then he walks in.

Bucky Barnes, according to the framed certifications on the wall. Also according to Darcy, who not-so-subtly whispered oh my god he’s hot when you walked in earlier and now leans in to your ear, to whisper “oh my god, he’s even hotter in person.”

He’s broad-shouldered and tall. Black tee, black jeans. Arms inked to the wrists in clean, complex lines. Geometric patterns like armor. You spot a white wolf curled around a blooming branch. A forget-me-not. The tattoo work is detailed. Almost luminous. An artwork of constellations on his skin, coiling like a secret he’s allowing the world to glimpse.

He looks at you.

You stop breathing.

“You ready?” he asks, voice a low rasp.

You make a sound that might be English. Might be a prayer. Might be a dying animal.

He blinks, then smiles. Just a little tug at the corner of his lip.

“Maybe one of you should go first,” you say to your friends quietly, voice barely hanging on.

“It’s not the gallows, babe,” Darcy muses, nudging you again.

“I know, but I-”

Jane cuts you a dry look, interrupting. “You made us matching Google Calenders for this.”

“I was drunk on sentiment and pinterest,” you argue but it’s useless.

“No stalling. You can’t back out now.“

“I’m not backing out,” you grumble. “I’m delegating the trauma.”

But they’re not moving. Not budging.

You indignantly get up. Slowly. Darcy leans over and smiles sharply, mischievously. “Hey, just ask if you can hold his hand during the act.”

You choke. On air. On dignity. On the sudden imagine of his fingers wrapped around yours. And you’re up, throwing her a last glare that lacks all the heat.

You turn to Bucky and he is full-on smirking now. Though his voice is not mocking.

“We can take our time,” he says gently, and gestures toward the door that will, as you can imagine, lead you to the torture chamber. Yes, that’s dramatic. Yes, you don’t care. Yes, you are spiraling.

After sending your friends a panicked look and them not that supportively giving you thumbs up in return while grinning brightly, you follow him as if you’re approaching your own funeral.

You walk like you’re made of wires and wet paper. Trailing behind him into the back room, your chest beating out the morse code for panic.

The chair is deceptively comfortable. Everything is clean and neat and doesn’t smell scary but your heart is beating so loud, you think it’s bruising your ribs.

He sits down on a stool, brings it closer to you with one hand, and adjusts his gloves. He moves slowly, most definitely for your sake.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re not,” he says, soft and even. “You’d be surprised how many people get nervous.”

You inhale. Exhale. Fail.

“I’m Bucky,” he says easily, glancing at you with eyes the color of melted steel and winter storms. You give him your name and he smiles. “What are we doing today?”

You fumble with the paper in your hands, clumsy movements lifting it to show him.

It’s stupid, honestly. Three tiny constellations in a delicate arc. Only a little bigger than a thumbnail. Barely enough to be called a tattoo.

He leans closer to look. His knee brushes yours and you hold your breath.

“I know it’s small. It’s dumb. I mean, not dumb, like-”

Bucky waits.

Silent. Patient. The corner of his mouth tilts up.

“It’s three constellations.” The words tumble out of you, messy and fast. As if trying to explain your favorite dream to a stranger who wasn’t there. “Mine, Jane’s, and Darcy’s. We got stranded once during a road trip, out in the middle of nowhere, and the car battery died. So we laid on the hood, freezing our asses off, and waited for a tow truck under this crazy clear sky. Jane started pointing out stars and we found our constellations. And we just talked. About everything. So we-”

You stop.

Because you’re talking too much. Because your face is hot. Because he’s watching you as if he’s listening.

And Bucky only smiles. Just this small, warm curve of his mouth that feels like praise.

You blink too hard. Look down at your hands.

“It’s silly.” You just can’t help explaining yourself. “I know it’s barely anything. And it’s not even a real design, really. I’m not even supposed to be here, I mean-”

You stop again. Press your lips together.

He’s still looking at you. Calm. Not judging. Not laughing.

“You were saying?” he asks, voice quiet.

You breathe in a shaky breath.

“I’m scared of needles,” you admit embarrassed. “Like. Deeply, irrationally scared. I had to get a flu shot once and almost took out the poor nurse with my bag.”

Bucky huffs out a short and amused laugh, but his eyes are genuine and sympathetic. He nods like that’s the most normal thing anyone’s ever said.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. Nor is it silly.” You’d be on the floor if you were standing up. “I like it,” he says earnestly. “Three stars. Three best friends. Kind of poetic.”

“Yeah, it’s-” you stammer. “It means a lot to us.”

“That’s nice to hear.” His eyes rake over you so intensely, so sincere. “Some of the best tattoos I've done were barely the size of a freckle.”

You don’t know if he’s saying this to make you feel better, but either way, you are not sure it helps.

You feel like your skin is trying to slip off your body.

He opens the packaging with quiet and sure movements that still seem to be a little slower than he would probably be normally.

“I tattoo six-foot-tall dudes who pass out cold,” he starts soothingly. “You’re sittin’ here, scared, and still doing it. That’s brave.” He says it so simply.

You stare at him. Try to believe it.

“May I?” he asks, looking up at you, and gesturing toward your arm.

You nod. Too fast.

He reaches out carefully like you’re glass and holy.

His fingers are warm. Gentle. He adjusts your wrist, turning it slightly toward the light. It feels like gravity has shifted. Like the earth tipped a little, just to watch this happen.

His thumb brushes against the inside of your forearm, where your pulse is having a complete existential crisis. His touch might be absentminded but it sparks something that goes way too deep. A tremor. A stormcloud. A sigh under your skin.

“Right here okay?” he asks, voice low.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s good. That’s perfect.”

The needle glints in the light like a tiny sword ready to tear apart your skin.

“You sure?”

“No,” you say honestly, voice a little unstable. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

He chuckles under his breath and his smile changes, gets softer, younger.

You let out a breath. Try to remember the sky that night, the way the stars felt close enough to kiss. But there’s something else you’d rather kiss right no-

“I’ll go slow. And I’ll be gentle. Promise,” he says, almost under his breath. “Just breathe.”

You nod. Let him see the fear. Let him see you choose it away.

He turns on the machine. Your hand is shaking. The buzz rings in your ears.

He touches your arm again. Carefully. Steadying you. Taking in an exaggerated breath for you to follow.

“Tell me if you need a break,” he states softly, but there is something else in his tone. “Or, you know. If you want to hold my hand.”

You freeze. Not sure if you heard that right. Your brain is a flock of birds flapping around your skull.

“I- What?”

He smiles. Not teasing. Not smug. It’s soft. It’s kind.

“Some people do better with a distraction,” he says like it’s no big deal. So casual, but his undertone makes you promise yourself to punch Darcy Lewis later on.

You stare at him for a second too long, not sure if he is even serious. You feel like you’ve been thrown into a different body. One that’s nervous and melting and acutely aware of every square inch of air between you.

His palm lays open as an invitation. Looking so soft and callous at the same time.

“Can you even do this with one hand?” you ask cautiously.

He smirks. “You bet I can, darling.”

After a patient moment, you reach out, fingers finding his, and he shifts just enough to meet you halfway. His grip is loose and open, letting you decide how much to hold on.

And you do. Not tight. But not soft either.

It’s safe.

He starts.

The needle meets your skin sharp and sudden, but it doesn’t feel unbearable. You’re too focused on the fact that you’re literally holding hands with the hottest guy you’ve seen in a long while. Maybe ever. His thumb has started tracing circles on the back of yours.

You’re not sure how much time passes. Minutes stretch and snap and vanish but then it’s over.

The buzz stops. The silence blooms around you.

You blink down at your wrist, skin warm and reddened and wrapped in something tiny and starborn. Three constellations, nestled close.

He wipes it gently, thumb brushing away excess ink with a kind of care that makes you want to cry.

“It’s beautiful,” he says. Quiet. Like it’s just for you.

You don’t even realize he’s still holding your hand until he gives it a squeeze and pulls away to grab a mirror.

You almost say wait.

He places the mirror in your hand.

Your breath is lost somewhere deep when you look down at your inked skin. It’s so small. So perfect. Exactly what you hoped for, only softer now. As if it’s always been there. Meant to stay forever.

You glance up at him.

His eyes are warm. Curious. “Took it like a champ,” he says.

You shrug, a little shyly. “I didn’t faint. So that’s a win.”

He lets out a low chuckle. The sound does things to you.

“I’ve seen people pass out from paper cuts. You’re fine,” he assures.

You don’t know what to do with that or the heat pooling at your neck, so you look down again. Tracing the constellations with your eyes like you’re learning to read a new kind of language.

“Thank you,” you offer, and it’s not just for the ink. It’s for the kindness. The patience. The hand-holding. The compassion. “I love it.”

“No need to thank me, darling.”

He takes a few more moments studying you before peeling off his gloves and standing up.

You stand too. Your legs wobble a little, traitorous and unsure, and his hand hovers near your back.

You don’t say anything.

But you feel it.

All of it.

The warmth.

The hush.

The stars, still burning softly beneath your skin.

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sukunas-wife · 1 year ago

Note

Ryoumen “i want a second son” Sukuna except he gets a feral little princess who matches his energy and is not above taking big bites of dad and only yuuji-nii can control her sksks

Eegehehe- warning- I suck at writing for girls actually😭 I’ve never had a younger sister or niece 🥹 my female cousins are literally non existent also,

The doctor became nervous after your newborn started crying. The maids made quick work of taking care of everything and handing you your child already bundled up. Sukuna was just as confused before he took his child from you, carefully unfolding the blanket.

The room was silent, everyone turning to Sukuna, for a brief second your aching muscles were numb that you didn’t feel after birth. You were nervous, what happened, why didn’t anyone say anything? Sukuna held the child with two large hands supporting it, using his other two hands to carefully pull back the blanket. He didn’t lift his head, but you watched his mouth gape slightly like he wanted to say something. He turned his head slightly, settling on just looking at you through the corner of his eyes. It was a low rasp “she’s a girl,” he cleared his throat wrapping her back up. Without a doubt it was his, his pink hair, she had even taken to his red eyes like Yuji had. His fixed stare didn’t show it but he was concerned for her, even if he had wanted a second son, “Lord Sukuna we co-No.” he turned to Uraume, “It’s my child regardless if it’s a boy or not. She stays here.” He leaned back, handing you your daughter.

After everyone had cleared the room you were breastfeeding your child. Sukuna sat with arms crossed, eyes closed and his head resting back against the wall. You were staring down at your little girl and you realised, “You didn’t want a daughter because it’s going to force you to settle down.” You were grinning like a fool when you turned to look at Sukuna, he grunted not opening an eye or looking at you. “I’d be a fool to let anything happen to my daughter.”

You hummed, “If she’s anything like you I’m sure she can handle her own like Yuji when she’s older.” Sukuna opened an eye looking at you, “Anya..” you turned to look at him. “Her name is Anya.” There was no room to argue with him on that. He stood up, “I’ll bring Yuji.”

He left the room before you mocked him “oouu I’m Sukuna I’m gonna protect my daughter I’m a big bad tough guy.” You scoffed to yourself, “He doesn’t realise he’ll never hurt another child again Anya.” Leaning down you kissed her little head, and she barely opened her eyes.

—————

“hehehe” Sukuna was sitting on his throne head resting on his fist, eyes closed. You left a while ago to do something he already forgot about. Yuji wanted to go with you but Anya held him back, Anyways was an anomaly. She had no cursed energy or presence. Yet she still had the power to read minds, it was something that baffled Sukuna.

He learned she had that power at the worst time, when you were all gathered eating breakfast. When he thought about getting a collar. Anya just jumped excited “are we getting a dog like the one’s old man sells in town?!” Everyone looked concerned at Anya and she pointed at your husband with a bright smile, “Papa was thinking about buying a collar!” You looked at Sukuna “When did you- Right now! He was thinking about looking for a collar and a really good one so it doesn’t slip up or come loose.” It was the heat on your cheeks when you realised what collar he meant, but you were more concerned when you thought he was actually saying these things out loud in front of Anya.

Sukuna was looking away trying to clear his throat, ‘What the hell is this brat on about? I didn't say that shit out loud… did I?’

“OOOO PAPA SAID A BAD WORD!” Anya covered her mouth with her hands and she turned to you, your mind was drawing a blank ‘…what..what’s going on…”

Yuji was spaced out shovelling food into his face before he looked over, “Anya sit down don’t stand on the chair.” She listened to his not so demanding verse and sat down, “okay Yuji-nii.” She plopped down in her chair before perking up, “Are we getting a dog?”

Sukuna cleared his throat again looked right at her, if his hunch was right, ‘No, we’re not bringing some mangy mutt into the house’

Anya deflated and rested her chin on the table pouting, “why not?” ‘Because I said so.’ “Then why’d you say?” ‘Because I’m the owner of this house I decide what goes and comes.’ Anya sighed, getting teary eyed, trying her best to plead silently the way Yuji had taught her. Yuji snickered and he turned to you, you were sitting down whispering and asking Yuji if he knew what was going on. He explained to you that he figured out Anya could read minds not too long ago when she kept beating him in stone, parchment, shears, (please I’m sorry😭), hide and seek, and their little treasure hunting games. What he didn’t tell you was he also used her to out scam the guy who shuffles a gold token and bets money you’ll never find it.

It explained to you why Sukuna was just giving her looks and she was vocally responding.. it left you to worry how many of your thoughts she had actually heard. 😭

On a side note- here are some cannon events in the process of Anya growing up 😭😭

As a baby she was menace 🥺 she liked biting/trying to chew her dads fingers when he’d poke her cheeks. Not a cute nibble either, she’d dive in predicting the “If you eat his finger you’ll get stronger”

When she took hold of his finger the first time he was in love. That was his daughter and she meant the world to him. Then she dug her nails hard into his skin making him wince and immediately clip her nails. But when you don’t clip her nails because you're scared you’ll hurt her he always ends up with a scratched chest and hands when she’d try to take hold of something. She’s the reason he started wearing shirts even if they were uncomfortable on his massive arms 😔

Was kinda glad she didn’t sleep in the bed with both of you. She loved sleeping on his chest and Sukuna did also. But only allowed it when he could put those baby gloves on her.

After hitting age one she loved messing with Yuji and Sukuna while they were sleeping. You continuously went after her picking her up with your hand sunder her arms. She’s let out her baby screams and wiggle her body you could hear your husband’s attitude, “unhand me mother! I crave chaos! Ahahahsgsghshss!”

The older she got the more both of you learned the way Yuji admired his dad but was a total mama’s boy? It was almost the same case. Except she admired her dad.. and was a daddy girl. Yes she loved you and thought the world of you, but daddy’s so cool because he has so many cool powers! 🥺

It didn’t matter if she was sleeping in your arms, she was laughing and having the best time with you. If she even felt or heard the slightest sound, meaning Ryomen was in the room, she would scream and cry for him to pick her and take her with him. The same case as Baby Yu, you were jealous Ryo got all the attention and baby love even if they were attached to your chest most of the time.

Speaking of jealous, Yuji was the most jealous little 10 year old boy 🥹 “MY DADDY!” He’d carry Anya back to you so he could sit in HIS dads lap. Sukuna found it amusing and more often than not bullied Yuji. Which actually led to your funny little schedule where when Anya was briefly awake Yuji would be glued to your side. When Anya was asleep Yuji would run and stick to his dads side.

Sukuna has a permanent dent in his side boob where 2yo old Anya crawled over to him on your bed and then latched on, i don’t mean milk- i mean she saw a mound of flesh and went ‘nom’ He grunted and it took everything in him to not swat her instantly. He sat up after pulling her away. She was dangling by her feet clapping her hands and laughing, Sukuna was pressing his hand to his chest helping himself and cursing because no way he really let this brat catch him off guard and mess him up 😭

Which is also when it hits him, she has no presence because she has no cursed energy. He was disappointed but relieved she’d never have a reason to be caught in trouble 🥹

Here’s a little montage of moments 🥹

An invisible child means invisible crimes. Sure, Ryomen could actively tell where she was. But it’s his child he could let his guard down and close his eyes to think about the things he had to do. Breathing became slower the more he started to relax almost to napping completely.

1…2…3…4… “YUJIII NIII I GOT THE THING”

Kamutoke… she took the Kamutoke

Sukuna was going to get up and chase after her but she tripped and face planted into the shiny floors Sukuna had to pick her up and wipe off her tears and snot while telling Uraume to put up his tool because there was no doubt in his mind Yuji or Anya would kill the other with it by mistake

Anya loves her parents, but when Sukuna is thinking Sinister thoughts she runs to Yuji.

Ex. The four of you went out into the city, Anya was riding on her dad’s shoulders the way Yuji used to. She was patting away on his head when she heard the thought, “I should kill that man, I’ll start by slowly gutting him a- wwaahhhhh” followed by squirming and Anya basically jumping over knocking down Yuji. When you asked her what was wrong she said “…nothing… papa is kinda scary.”

Yuji had to piggy back her the rest of the day when she didn’t feel like walking but she sang her cute little “Family ooting” song

This is both Yuji and Anya when daddy’s home ,

(I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing for girls 😭 I don’t have a niece to spoil or interact with, I’ll have to steal my friend and her little sister next time and play with her 🥹 I’ll do better for next one i promise 😤)

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @dolliira @ilovemybabies378

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avionvadion · 2 months ago

Note

To be fair, there is a strong possibility of his horns growing back. Goats are able to regrow their horns. I assume Malleus will be able to do the same, since he has goat horns.

Not sure why his weakness isn't just iron. I still think it should've been that instead of...this. Seriously, how the hell does that even work?

I mean the sword used to slay Maleficent was very specifically a “silver” sword, not an iron sword… so they could just be leaning more towards movie lore than actual fae lore. Plus I think they’re throng to draw parallels to the Maleficent movie due to the fact that Meleanor’s VA is Japanese Maleficent… and Maleficent in the live action had her wings cut off. ☠️

But yeah. We might have a horn-less Mal for a while. It’s probably to “nerf” him for the Grim Overblot fight… which I think is kinda unnecessary because he’d already BE nerfed just from being OVERBLOTTED FOR SO DANG LONG???? Like as soon as this man is back to normal he gonna be struggling to even STAND.

The magic absorption is keeping him alive and preventing the phantom from eating him, but that still SO MUCH STRESS on his body. He’s using up and absorbing magic at an alarming rate, and it has been DAYS. He’s basically running on magical adrenaline if you think about it.

Rather than cut off his horns, he should just be TOO DAMN TIRED AND MAGICALLY SORE TO FIGHT. He should be getting piggy-backed by Sebek or something during the Grim battle because he can’t walk nonetheless stand.

Like yeah. Let him get hella beat up. Make him bleed some. BUT DON’T CUT OFF HIS HORNS!?????

Maybe my thoughts aren’t really fitting for the situation or whatever because I’m biased as a Malleus girlie, but like. JUST PIGGYBACK THE DUDE!??? LET HIM PASS OUT OR TRY TO HELP WHILE BEING CARRIED BY SEBEK OR SILVER!??? DON’T CUT OFF HIS HORNS???? THAT FEELS SO UNNECESSARILY PAINFUL AND MEAN EVEN IF THEY HAVE THE ABILITY TO GROW BACK???

Aghhhhhhhhhhhhaoejsksjslmslaksosmalaka

I’d almost rather he get stabbed in the shoulder or something. Cutting off his horns feels like cutting off limbs. Sure it’d hurt like hell but it won’t BE AS BRUTAL.

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst book seven spoilers #twst book 7 #twst book 7 spoilers

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redstarwriting · 2 years ago

Text

happy birthday

miles morales x reader

request?: yes

request: “I LOVEDDD THE HC’S OMG OMG WORK OF ART!!! i was wondering if you would write something expanding on getting miles’ doodles tatted as an adult!! i would love to read more abt it, it’s so cutee”

requested by: anon

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff

Warnings: language, tattoos, mentions of tattoos and needles, Miles is so sweet it's sick

A/N: GLADLY!! i've been itching to get a new tattoo since the minute i got my first like three years ago and writing this just made me want to get another one so bad LMAO. i hope you enjoy!

also in case you were wondering what hcs anon is talking about, it's my pda/general affection hcs i wrote for hobie and miles! you can check it out here if you haven't already and feel compelled to :)

───────────────────────────────────

“Miles! Baby, can you give me a tattoo?” you ask, and he smiles. This has become a common practice in your relationship. From the time y’all were kids in love to now, you would always ask him for a tattoo. Of course, he didn’t actually give you tattoos, he just drew on your arm. He’s mentioned you, and even urged you, to get a tattoo every now and again. Especially when he offered to design them, but you always say his temporary ones are more special than any other tattoo you could get. He isn’t upset about it. He genuinely loves drawing on you. “Of course, babe. Come here,” he says, motioning you over to him as he grabs his markers he has specifically for your “tattoos.” You go over to him, sitting between his legs and extending your arm. “Can you draw it right next to the uh… elbow pit?” you say, and he laughs. “Elbow pit?”

“Yeah, like the inside of my arm and not on the bicep part or the elbow pit part, but the forearm part by the elbow pit,” you explain, pointing to the area you’re talking about. He chuckles. “Elbow pit.”

“Well, what else would it be called?” you ask, smiling, and he grins, starting to doodle on your arm. “I’ll text and ask my mom what the scientific name for it is after I’m done here,” he says, and you lean your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, god, please don’t tell her I called it an elbow pit.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you called it that,” he teases, placing a quick peck on your lips before returning his attention to your arm. He draws a spiderweb, of course, but in the shape of a heart. He adds his Miles touch to it by making it look like the web was spraypainted, and having it pop with black and red. You don’t even look at the tattoo as he draws it, you just stare at his face. You love watching him when he does his art. You assume it’s similar to the way his face looks when he’s swinging around the city as Spider-Man. He’s in his element, laser-focused and yet has an ease about him that mesmerizes you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says, smirking and turning his attention to you. You feel your face heat up but roll your eyes. “Can’t, arm’s a bit preoccupied.”

“You can get creative; I have an idea. Maybe use the one I’m not drawing on?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and he shakes his head. “What do you think, amor?” he asks, and you look. You smile. “I love it, Miles. Thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as you admire his art. “What time is it?” you ask, and he glances at his phone. “11:15. Why?”

“Ganke and I are gonna go get some lunch today.”

“Should I be worried?” Miles jokes. “No, dummy. We’re just talking about… something happening soon,” you say, and a sly smile spreads across Miles’ face. “How soon?”

“I’ve said too much,” you say, trying to get up. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is Spider-Man and can easily hold you in place. “Nuh uh, how soon is this something happening?” he looks at you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, spider boy?”

“I would. Is it, and this is just a wild guess… something happening tomorrow? A special something happening on a very special day?” he guesses, and you sigh. “Don’t tell Ganke you found out…”

“I knew it!”

“We’re supposed to be planning your birthday party, yes. For tomorrow. On your birthday. Are you happy you spoiled it for yourself now?” you feign annoyance, and he laughs. “I am, actually. Now I know to look good for you tomorrow.” You roll your eyes. “You always look nice, Miles.”

“Only for you,” he grins at you, turning your face to look at him. The two of you share a kiss before it’s interrupted by his police scanner going off. He frowns slightly. “It’s okay, Miles. I gotta go soon anyways,” you give him a quick peck for squeezing out of his arms. He sighs. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll go save the city. Be the best thing that ever happened to New York and all that.”

“My hero,” you joke, and he grins. “You know it,” he says, slipping his mask on and sliding his everyday clothes off. “I’ll see you later, Miles. Stay safe. Love you.”

“You stay safe, too. Love you more.” He leaps out of the window, and you make sure he’s gone before you call Ganke. “Yo, what’s up?”

“You gotta plan Miles’ birthday party tomorrow.”

“Woah, what?” You sigh. “I already have the roof of our building booked out for it, I ordered the cake already and will pick it up tomorrow and have all the decorations. You just need to invite everyone, okay?”

“You mean I have to reach out to people in different dimensions, tell them to clear their schedules for tomorrow, and hope for the best?” Ganke asks, and you hum into the phone. “Yep! Thanks, Ganke! Also, if Miles asks, we went and got lunch, okay?”

“And where are you really going?”

“I’m getting a tattoo to surprise him for his birthday tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your keys and putting some money in your pocket. You put Ganke on speaker, sending a quick text to Hobie. “You need to stop using me as a cover-up, (Y/n).”

“Who else am I supposed to use? Gwen?” you say, and Ganke sighs. “I mean, yeah, you know she would be down to help you with something like this.”

“Ganke she is so bad at keeping secrets like that, and you know it,” you say, admiring the art on your arm again. “Then use Hobie.”

“Wait that’s actually a good idea,” you say, “Especially since he’s the one giving me the tattoo.”

“AND YOU STILL USED ME?!”

“I PANICKED! He was asking questions! Just, listen, invite as many people as you can think of, alright? Please, and thank you.”

“Fine. Go get inked or whatever they say,” Ganke says. The two of you give some quick goodbyes before hanging up. You receive a reply from Hobie, and a portal opens in Miles and your bedroom. You step through it and find yourself in Hobie’s flat. “Can I just say it’s about damn time you got one of ‘is works tattooed onto ya,” Hobie says, motioning to his couch. You sit and he gets his whole get-up ready, all the cleaning wipes and gloves and the tattoo gun all ready to go. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m getting it now and that’s what matters,” you say, and he clicks his tongue. “I can guarantee ya this is just gonna be the beginning. Kinda becomes an addiction,” he says, sitting next to you, and fiddling with his gun. “Then I guess I’ll just need to have Miles draw on me even more.” He chuckles. “Lemme see it.”

You show him the drawing, and Hobie shakes his head. “Your man is corny,” he says, and you shrug. “I like it.”

“I know,” he dips his gun in ink, and looks at you, “Ya ready?” You nod, and he begins tattooing Miles’ art onto your skin. The two of you talk the whole time, really, and you let him know about the party tomorrow. He, of course, agrees to come, and can’t wait to see Miles’ reaction. It takes a few hours, but eventually he finishes up and it looks exactly like Miles just drew it on your skin. Hobie places fake skin over it and gives you the rundown of how to take care of it. He turns away from you to put something away, and you quickly slip $100 under a pillow on the couch. You know he won’t accept any money from you because he’s ‘not a capitalist pig,’ so you have to be sneaky with it. “Thank you so much, Hobie,” you say, and he winks at you. “Anythin’ for my mate’s better ‘alf.”

He opens the portal again, and you two say bye until tomorrow. You’re back home, literally, in no time, and you quickly throw one of the hoodies Miles left lying around on. This way he won’t see the tattoo, and you can play it off like you missed him. Especially since you did kind of miss him and it is sort of a staple in your relationship that you wear his clothes when you do. That’ll make him melt and he’ll forget all about the art on your arm. And you were absolutely right.

It ended up being a late night for Spider-Man, and when he got home, he saw you curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hoodie on, and all he could think about was that you missed him. He carefully picked you up and carried you to your shared bed. You started to wake up as soon as he was getting in bed after taking a shower and cleaning up, and he began desperately trying to get you to go back to sleep. “What time is it?” you groggily ask. “It’s like 3am, (Y/n/n), I’m here now, we can go to sleep, okay?” he says, slipping into bed next to you and pulling you on top of his chest. “Happy birthday!” you sleepily say, burying your face into his chest. He smiles. “Thank you, amor. Let’s get back to sleep now, yeah?” You make a muffled mmhmm sound and are out like a light almost immediately. Miles smiles to himself, wondering how he got this lucky.

You can imagine his disappointment when he wakes up the next day and you’re not snug against his chest, but he feels better the minute he sees a little note on his chest that explains you’ll be home, you just had to go do something for him. He gets up and decided he can do his Spider-Man duties until you text him and let him know he needs to come home. It may be his birthday, but the city still needs it’s defender. So that’s exactly what he does. He cannot explain how grateful he is that none of the big bads were trying to start anything today, because if he didn’t get to see you and eat a slice of cake, he was going to scream. The day went slower than he wanted but also sped by when eventually he got a text from you saying to come home. He immediately obliges, swinging in through the window and putting on some of his nicest clothes. He walks out of your room and sees you chilling on the couch. “Miss me?” he asks, walking over and bending down to kiss your lips. You giggle. “Obviously. Hey, before we go up to the roof where there totally isn’t a party waiting for you, I wanna show you something, okay?”

“Okay,” he grins, and you grin back. “Cover your eyes.” He does as instructed, and hears you shift slightly. “Okay… open them.” He opens his eyes, and immediately sees his “tattoo” on your arm. Only it was covered in a clear wrap. And it’s real. His eyes get big, and he looks at your face. You give a small smile. “You always encouraged me to get a real tattoo, so… happy birthday.”

“Yo! It looks so good, hold up,” he gently grabs your arm and softly traces it through the saniderm. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday.”

“You weren’t actually with Ganke, were you?”

“No, I was with Hobie,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I got a little liar on my hands, huh?”

“It wasn’t lying it was covering my ass because you ask too many damn questions,” you say, and he laughs. “I love it, (Y/n/n).” You smile and the two of you share a kiss. “We should probably get up there. Some people are waiting. Oh, and pretend like you haven’t seen it yet. Hobie wants to see your reaction.” Miles laughs. “Alright. Well, I hope he knows I’m not gonna stop drawing on you. And that he fully traced my art,” Miles says, and you shake your head. “I’m sure he knows, Miles. You really like it?”

“Like it? Baby, I told you I love it. I love you; I love this tattoo; I love that this is a birthday present from you… everything about this? I love it. I don’t even need to go up there to make the day better because all I need is you,” he says, and you smile. “Hobie was right. You’re so corny.”

“Nah, hold on, he said that? Forget everything I just said it’ll be a perfect day when I punch him.” You laugh as the two of you make your way up to the party. But the whole time, Miles keeps finding his eyes drifting to your tattoo. Something about having his art on you permanently makes his heart swell with pride and happiness. And he and Hobie were both right.

It’s not the only “tattoo” that will become real.

───────────────────────────────────

#miles morales x reader #spiderman x reader #miles x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #miles morales #spiderman #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv

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randomprose · 8 months ago

Text

missed calls and white cosmos

[ao3] - set during chapter 452 Guan Shan will never say it, because he’s a lot less brave than He Tian is, but he hopes He Tian knows he feels the same way.

Mo Guan Shan will be the first to admit that he tends to get absorbed in his work. He can’t help it. It’s a job that he actually enjoys, pays ridiculously really well, and lets him express his artistic side. Of course, he’d get bouts of hyperfixation.

He really didn’t mean to blow off He Tian and he really did intend to call when he’s done. It’s just that he got done late. Really late. And on a night when He Tian said he had some good news to share too.

‘Ah, shit,’ Mo Guan Shan thinks, sighing to himself. ‘He’s gonna throw a bitchfit. I just know it.’

10 missed calls and 20 messages though, really?

He doesn’t bother going through each of them now as he hurriedly dresses himself while trying to ring back He Tian.

“C’mon, chicken dick pick up,” Guan Shan mutters, cursing when he nearly busts his nose on the floor as he hastily changes out of his overalls and into his pants. “I know you know I’m calling, asshole. Fucking pick up already.”

‘sorry. late. where r u?’ he types with one hand as he shoves his feet into his sneakers.

“Fuck,” Guan Shan growls as he revs the engine of his scooter. In his head, he’s frantically thinking of a way to make it up to He Tian but he’s drawing up blank. In the years he’s known He Tian ignoring him is just about the worst thing you could do to him.

He passes by a flower shop and thinks about buying a bouquet but his skin is not thick enough to carry one around while he’s on his Vespa trying to find a stupidly unresponsive He Tian. He knows it’s probably the kind of gesture He Tian will be surprised at coming from him, would likely get him instantly forgiven for being late and not checking his phone just because He Tian is easy like that when it comes to him for some reason, but it seems so insincere and very obviously pandering and Mo Guan Shan does not do insincere or pandering, especially not with He Tian.

Instead, he stops by the road when he sees something that catches his eye. He plucks a single stem of white cosmos from the plotted plants on the sidewalk because it reminds him of He Tian. He tucks it in his pocket, careful not to squish it as he cruises the streets to find his no-doubt sulking boyfriend.

Blessedly, he finds him soon enough by the bridge near the restaurant they agreed to meet. He’s leaning on his parked car and even from the distance Guan Shan can feel his bad mood, can just imagine the pout on his face and the tantrum he’s gonna throw.

“Hey, there you are. How long have you been waiting? Have you eaten?” Guan Shan prods even though he already knows He Tian has been waiting for him for three hours and he likely hasn’t eaten because he’s always hated eating alone.

Silence. Mo Guan Shan tries a different tactic.

“You look pretty handsome in that suit.” The compliment comes easily to him because it’s the truth. He Tian really does look handsome in his suit which is why it makes Guan Shan all the more sorry and the guilt in his gut much heavier that he didn’t come to meet him sooner. “Say something. I really was busy.”

Mo Guan Shan has long shaken off the habit of ignoring He Tian. How could he when the man is so stubbornly persistent in making sure Mo Guan Shan’s thoughts are never devoid of him? Not for long anyway. And it’s not like Mo Guan Shan has ever had any success in keeping his thoughts free of He Tian either.

Yet right now He Tian is making a valiant attempt at ignoring him and Mo Guan Shan finds that he does not care for it. He does not care for it at all.

‘Fuck. He’s even giving me attitude.’ Mo Guan Shan can’t help it. He’s so irritated his hand comes up on its own to snatch at the cigarette dangling from He Tian’s lips because he knows for a fact he’ll hate it.

Except He Tian unexpectedly turns to him, thin eyebrows drawn down into a frown, eyes full of annoyance and a touch of anger.

‘Fuck me. This handsome face,’ Mo Guan Shan furiously thinks even as he appreciates the view. ‘I swear to god your stupidly handsome mug is gonna be the death of me one day. Fuck!’

“You…really forgot about me?” He Tian finally speaks and Mo Guan Shan blushes at the slight whine in his voice and the almost imperceptible pout on his lips even as the bastard blows smoke directly at his face.

Guan Shan coughs and pulls back as He Tian turns away from him again, still sulking. He digs into his pocket for his peace offering, wincing slightly when he sees that it’s wilted and bent in the bud but still offers it in all sincerity.

“He Tian…” Guan Shan holds the small flower up and it immediately catches He Tian’s eyes. “Don’t be mad…okay?”

The crease in He Tian’s brow vanishes and an arm reaches out to pull Guan Shan by the waist. Guan Shan easily goes, wanting to be close the moment he found He Tian. His hand fists at Guan Shan’s shirt as if he’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold tight so he wounds an arm around He Tian’s shoulder and leans down to plant a featherlight kiss on his temple, an apology and an assurance in a single gesture.

“Fine…” He Tian sighs, sagging against Mo Guan Shan in what feels like surrender. “It’s my fault I can’t live without you.”

Mo Guan Shan will never say it, because he’s a lot less brave than He Tian is, but he hopes He Tian knows he feels the same way.

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #writing #according to google white cosmos flowers symbolize purity and faithfulness in romantic love #ch 452 was mwah chef's kiss 10/10

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rapilne · 8 months ago

Text

Anime Club Membership | Soobin Au

#pairing: soobin x f!reader.

#genre: fluff | #w.c: ~4000+

#synopsis: soobin is in love but has an anime club membership and is convinced this is a problem

#notes: I started this a while ago and it was dying on my notes until I woke up at 3am and couldn't go back to sleep. it's kind of long a not a lot happens but I thought it was cute and it was fun writing it cause im in my soobin feelings era. tbh wanted to make it smutty but I tried once and I realized im horrible at it so it won't happen again. happy reading if you read it :p

Kai is currently struggling to figure out the ramyeon machine at this fancy new convenience store. It's way bigger and flashier than the usual spots they frequent, and the selection is overwhelming—thirty flavors of ramyeon, some he's never even heard of.

“Why are there so many buttons?” Kai whines, exaggeratedly pouting. “Making ramyeon shouldn’t be this complicated. Seriously, there are like a hundred different liquids you can get from this thing. Do you think this one’s for hot water? It’s got a steam drawing on it.”

“You’re the one making it complicated,” Beomgyu says lazily, reaching over and pressing a button. “You can always just push it and find out.”

“Wait—!”

Turns out the steam drawing stands for chai, actually.

Kai’s eyes widen in shock as he watches his ramyeon turn into a chai latte. Beomgyu bursts into laughter, unable to contain himself as he glances at Kai’s horrified expression. “Oh man, it's fucked now-”

“Tell him something, Soobin!” Kai pleads, desperate for backup.

Soobin, wide-eyed as he stares at the cup in Kai’s hand, opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, the cashier lady shushes them from behind the counter. Kai’s cheeks turn bright red with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Kai apologizes sheepishly, flashing a lopsided grin that usually works like a charm on the ahjummas at his sister’s apartment building. But this time, he’s met with a blank stare.

Beomgyu struggles not to laugh again, covering his mouth, and Kai briefly considers finally punching him. Instead, he glares at Beomgyu and turns back to Soobin, whispering, “Hyuuung! Do something!”

“What’s he gonna do, exactly?” Beomgyu chuckles, taking the ramyeon cup from Kai’s hands. He sniffs it, scrunching his nose at the smell. It reminds him of that old Play-Doh his cousin dared him to eat when he was eleven. “He literally can’t take me on a fight,” he adds, casually tossing the cup into the trash.

Soobin scoffs, visibly offended, forgetting the ramyeon situation instantly. “I can so take you in a fight.”

“Nu-uh,” Beomgyu replies, sing-songing his words.

“Yeah-uh!”

“Nope.”

“I actually—”

“You know you still have to pay for that, right?” A sudden chilly voice behind them interrupts. They all jump, turning around to face the scary cashier lady. Beomgyu might have squealed a little.

“Yes, ma’am,” the three say in unison.

The lady throws them one last unimpressed look before turning back to the counter, mumbling something that makes Kai’s cheeks flush again.

“This is your fault, Beomgyu. You’re paying for it. After I beat you up,” Soobin says, trying to sound firm.

“Beat me?” Beomgyu laughs out loud, placing a hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “You mean just like how you beat me in LoL? Oh, wait—that never happened.”

“CHOI BEOMGYU, YOU KNOW DAMN WELL I WON THAT MATCH WITH MY—”

“Uh, hear that? It’s the sound of the crowd disagreeing,” Beomgyu interrupts, hand behind his ear, a mocking smirk on his face.

“Actually,” Kai lifts his index finger and then adjusts his imaginary glasses, “I’m the crowd, and I’m on Soobin’s side.” He swiftly interjects on the elder’s behalf, secretly he has his doubts, but he’s also defending his own cause. “Soobin, fight him.”

Soobin watches as Beomgyu lazily plops down onto a nearby chair, already looking bored. Leaning back, Beomgyu rests his head on his interlocked fingers, raising his eyebrows. With a cocky smirk and his tongue poking his cheek, he taunts, “Yeah, Soobie-boobie. Fight me.”

You’d think with Beomgyu sitting down and Soobin standing over him, the younger might feel a bit intimidated, but it’s Soobin who squirms, eyeing Beomgyu’s almost lazy expression. There’s something positively deranged about his look, Soobin thinks.

“Uh, well,” Soobin chuckles nervously, “You know what? I thought about it, and I’m not up for any fighting today. I, uh, recently joined this club where we discuss important stuff. You know, like social issues and, uh, philosophical debates.” He turns to Kai. “The morality of using force on weaker people is something we discussed, so…”

Beomgyu decides to ignore his last jab and straightens up. “Important stuff, huh?” he teases, unable to contain his amusement. “Sounds like code for ‘anime marathon with your nerd friends’ to me.”

It’s been almost a month since Jihoon, his former TA, discovered they share a passion for anime and manga. He invited Soobin to a ‘gathering’ where they discuss their favorite shows, debate the best characters, and organize screenings of new episodes. Beomgyu likes to call it the “ultimate hangout spot for anime nerds.”

“Well, I mean, we do discuss important themes in anime,” Soobin admits with a pout.

Kai chuckles, forgetting his ramyeon mishap. “Hey, nothing wrong with that,” he says, offering a supportive smile. “I also think anime is about important stuff.”

“Thank you, Kai,” Soobin says, dimples showing. “Seriously, it’s all really cool. Beomgyu wouldn’t understand the appeal. It’s not like he’s capable of thinking about anything serious for more than two seconds.”

Beomgyu feigns offense, standing up and placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Hey now, I’ll have you know I’m a very serious person,” he protests, lips in a full pout, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I also understand it’s all very cool. So cool, in fact, that it’s the perfect topic to impress Y/N with, right?”

Soobin’s cheeks go red. He’s always been quick to blush, but this time it’s because Beomgyu’s words hit a nerve.

Ever since he first laid eyes on you in the introductory course, captivated by your pretty smile and blushed cheeks as you introduced yourself to the class, Soobin knew he was a goner. He’s never been one for crushes, not even in high school, so it’s as if fate saved all his affection for you. Looking back, Soobin realizes he’s never appreciated Beomgyu’s loud, extroverted personality more than when his friend boldly approached you to introduce himself—and Soobin too. (Did he already say thank you?) From that moment on, you became friends, and with each passing day, Soobin’s admiration for you only grew stronger.

“Yeah, right,” Soobin mumbles, trying to brush off Beomgyu’s teasing with a weak smile. “Guess that’s really gonna make her swoon.”

The memory of your comments some nights before he heard you exchange with one of your mutual friends about who you find especially attractive, plays in his mind, fueling his insecurities. “Dance majors I guess? Like Yeonjun. You guys are friends, right?” you had said.

Beomgyu sighs, sensing Soobin’s mood shift. “Ah, come on, Soob,” he says, bumping his shoulder gently, his tone softer now, realizing he might have gone too far. “You know I didn’t mean it. It’s not like Y/N’s going to judge you based on your anime club memberships.”

“It’s just one club,” he mumbles in a small voice when Kai chimes in. “He’s right, hyung!” Kai says, smiling brightly as he puts both hands on Soobin’s shoulders. “Besides, who knows? Maybe she didn’t really mean anything by it! Like, I think Soyeon is really hot, right? But I have no interest in actually going for it. She’s scary. So, maybe what Y/N’s really into is people like you!”

Soobin can’t help but let out a nervous laugh at his friend’s attempt to reassure him. “Right, Kai.”

Beomgyu then claps loudly, making Soobin jump. “That’s it, then! No more pouting from you, Mr. Naruto Pokémon,” he says with a grin, making Soobin scoff. “And Kai, I’m sorry about your food. I promise we’ll come back with Taehyun tomorrow to figure this bad boy out. Now let’s get you some tteokbokki from Mr. Kim’s shop,” he adds with a reassuring nod, dragging his friends out of the fancy convenience store.

As the three of them strut out, with Beomgyu complaining nonstop about paying for something he didn’t even eat, Soobin can’t help but overthink—it’s what he does best, after all. People like him, Kai said. No one has ever called him hot. Cute, sure. Sweet, even. And yeah, he knows he’s good-looking—people have told him as much—but he’s also convinced that people like him can’t compete with the Yeonjuns of the world, with their style, dance skills, and effortless coolness. Can he ever be like that?

Deep down, he knows his friends are right. He knows you’re not the type to judge someone for liking anime or joining clubs. But the weight of his feelings for you, combined with the pressure he puts on himself, makes him doubt his worth every time. He’s got to figure out how to be okay with who he is and hope that’s enough for you to notice him—really notice him.

With loud thoughts in his head he kicks a tiny rock, chis foot catches on a crack in the pavement. He trips, and for a split second, he sees the ground rushing toward him.

He looks around and sighs realizing no one notice, but walking along the sidewalk, as he watches kai animatedly explain demon slayer’s plot to a bored looking beomgyu, the nagging doubt keeps lingering in the back of his mind telling him that the gap between friendship to something more is as big as… well, as big as the difference between Tanjiro and a low-level demon, he supposes.

---

The surge of excitement pulses through you as you finally find yourself at the Seventeen concert, a dream come true made possible by Soobin’s miraculous ticket acquisition. You shoot him a grateful look, your smile stretching wider than ever, and Soobin mirrors it, glowing with the same enthusiasm. “I can’t believe we made it!” you shout over the music. “You’re seriously the best ever, Soobin!”

Your entire being radiates with happiness as you look at the stage with wide eyes, hands reaching up and a grin that refuses to fade as you scream the lyrics to a song he vaguely remembers hearing once. He’s always been more of a girl group stan.

Then, as if drawn back to reality, your attention returns to Soobin. “Oh my god, I still can’t wrap my head around how you got these tickets! They were gone in seconds!” you shout to be heard over the music, but Soobin hears you just fine.

“Well, you know how it goes,” Soobin leans closer with a tiny smirk. “The perks of being multi-talented, well-connected, universally adored…” he jokes. The reality of getting those tickets was far less glamorous. His older sister works for a big-shot media company and managed to snag these tickets. He owes her a thousand favors. But for you, it’s worth it, he thinks.

You chuckle. “Always humble, I see.”

“Always…”

“No, seriously,” your tone shifts, “this means the world to me. Thank you, Binnie.” Your sparkling eyes focused on him, and your sincere words send a hint of color to Soobin’s cheeks, subtle and noticeable to only him.

“Enough with that,” Soobin whispers, trying to keep the moment light. “You’ve already thanked me like a hundred times over. You know I would do anything for you.”

Did he—did he really just say that? Was that too intense? Do you now think he’s too intense?

Before he can start overthinking, your radiant smile washes over him once more, and he feels a weight lift from his shoulders.

“What you need to do now is enjoy the concert,” he says, trying to change the topic. “You’ll blink, and it’ll be over.”

“YOU’RE THE BEST!” you yell once again, jumping in place before pointing at the stage. “Look, look! The performance team! I’d miss my own wedding before I miss this. Have you seen Hoshi tonight? He’s so hot, I swear to god…”

He’s well aware of your fondness for the K-pop group’s performance team, particularly Hoshi. You’ve made it clear enough, and Soobin has never given it much thought.

As the concert pulses around him and he watches you scream your lungs out for the dancers in front of you, Soobin’s mind begins to wander, connecting dots he never realized were there. Taemin, Kai, Momo, —your list of biases reads like a who’s who of dancers. He remembers your comments about dance majors like that kid Hyunjin and his own friend Yeonjun. And now, here you are, gushing about Hoshi and the entire performance team with stars in your eyes. He’s never, ever seen you like this.

As the gears in his mind whirl, he reaches for his phone, opening a familiar chat without hesitation.

---

The concert ended about two hours ago, and Soobin is currently looking down at his phone in the stall of the bathroom at the only Thai place opened at this hour. He’s having the best time of his life with you, and it suddenly came to him that he must do everything in his power to get you. Hence why he scrolls until he finds the familiar name. He’s positive he’s never pressed a button faster.

And he is a fast button presser, if you ask him.

“Hey Soob, sorry I didn’t call, just saw your text and—” the line answers after a few rings.

“Teach me how to dance,” he urges as soon as he hears Yeonjun’s voice.

“Hey Yeonjun, how are you? Just peachy, thank you! What about you, my good friend? I’m pretty great too, actually, just happy to say hi to—”

“Hyung!” Soobin interrupts with a yell. “This is a life-or-death situation! No time for this!”

“No time to even say hello? After everything we’ve been through?” Yeonjun’s joke echoes a bit. “By the way, I just put you on speaker, and Tae’s here.”

“I don’t—”

“Why did you just do that?” Taehyun’s voice interrupts Soobin’s from his own side of the phone.

“Did wha—?” Soobin starts, but gets cut off again. He realizes Tae is not talking to him at all as he hears a conversation between his two friends on the other line.

“Why did I do what?” He hears Yeonjun ask.

“You just let him know I’m on speaker as if you’re warning him.”

“What? What I would warn him about?”

“Exactly!” Soobin hears Taehyun say, “I don’t know what you two don’t want to talk about while I’m here.”

“Are you serious? Taehyunnie, is this what I’m thinking? Because jealousy is not a cute look on you.” Yeonjun laughs. “Well, you know what? It might be—”

“STOP!” Soobin yells into the phone. “If someone needs to be warned about something, it’s me about your flirting.”

“We are not flirting!” Taehyun yells on the line. “Actually, you should be the one who’s flirting. Aren’t you on a date with Y/N right now? Why are you on the phone?”

“It is not a—well, I never specifically said the word date when I asked her to—you know what? It doesn’t matter! What matters is that there’s an emergency!”

“An emergency?” Yeonjun’s voice now sounds closer. “Hyung, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Taehyun continues.

“Yes! An emergency! That’s literally the first thing I said!”

“You never—”

“And no! I’m not okay! I’m the protagonist of a tragedy, and the plot twist? I’m not just ‘not okay’—I’m the complete opposite, like if ‘okay’ ran away and left me stranded in a dumpster fire of chaos.”

“Uh-huh,” Taehyun hums, catching on to Soobin’s melodrama. “If I recall, the very first thing you said was rudely demanding Yeonjun dance lessons. Honestly, Hyung, I don’t know why we keep falling for this kid’s theatrics.” Soobin groans as hears Yeonjun’s light laugh in response, followed by a quiet, ‘you’re right.’ “And seriously, why do you even want to learn to dance? Didn’t you have a strict ‘no dancing’ policy?”

“Well, that is why it’s an emergency. Like I said, a life-or-death situation. I need to revoke this policy and become the best dancer there is.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I don’t know how else to tell you how serious I am. Life or death, Yeonjun!”

“Stop saying that! You’re not dying. We'll talk about it later, JUST GET BACK TO HER”

—

Soobin’s mind races as he walks you back to your place after dinner. He’s hyper-aware of every step, every word that comes out of his mouth. It’s like his brain is stuck replaying moments from the concert, analyzing every little thing you said or did.

“I still can’t believe how close we were to the stage,” you say, your voice tingling with leftover concert adrenaline. “Did you see the way they moved? Hoshi is unreal!”

There it is again. Hoshi. The name has become a ghost haunting Soobin’s thoughts, a reminder that he’s no dancer. He’s no Hoshi. But then you look at him with that smile, the one that makes his heart do a weird flip, and he almost convinces himself that you might feel the same way. Almost.

“Yeah, he’s pretty good,” Soobin replies, trying to sound casual, but his voice comes out a little too high-pitched, a little too forced.

You glance at him, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Pretty good? Soob, he’s like, one of the best dancers out there!”

He completely understands you’re being a fan and freaking out about seeing your favorite artists — just one week earlier he was crying at the mere sight of KARA performing in front of him (he tells everyone he’s a casual listener. Soobin has never been casual about a single thing in his life.)— but he can’t help but run his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, I mean… sure. He’s great,” Soobin stammers, “But, you know, dancing isn’t everything.”

You stop walking and turn to face him, your expression shifting to something more serious. Soobin’s heart sinks and he’s two second from permanently loosing it, really.

Why did he say that? What did it have to do with anything? You’re going to think he’s crazy, worse, you’re going to tell him that you wish he were more like Hoshi, more like Yeonjun, that you need someone who can dance and—

“No, you’re right. Dancing isn’t everything,” you say softly, taking a step closer to him. “Soobin.. I..I just wanted to tell you that didn’t come to the concert just for Hoshi or the performance team or the group. I came because I wanted to be there with you.”

His heart skips a beat, and for a moment, hope flares up inside him. But then the little annoying-world ruiner- voice in his head creeps back in. Do you know? Oh my god, you must know he likes you and the stupid ass voice keeps whispering that maybe you’re just being polite, just trying not to hurt his feelings. He’s Soobin, your cute, sweet old friend who’s always there, but never the one you’re actually interested in.

You chuckle, a light, airy sound that sends a shiver down his spine. “I mean, sure, I appreciate good dancing. But you’re right, you know?”

He thinks that if he opens his mouth nothing good will come out of it, so he just nods and hs mind runs back on his earlier conversation with Yeonjun and Taehyun. The dance lessons. That is it— when learns to dance, he can finally be the kind of guy you’d notice, the kind of guy you’d actually want.

You continue walking, and he falls into step beside you, his body catching up before his brain.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering why he seems so distant all of a sudden.

“Soob,” you start, trying to break through whatever wall he’s put up, “did you have fun tonight?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Definitely. It was awesome,” he replies, but even he sounds weird to his own ears. He’s trying hard not to ruin a perfect night more than he already did but at this point he’ll hold a grudge against himself for the rest of his life.

You stop again, this time taking his hand in yours to make him look at you. The warmth brings him back to reality, and he stares at you, wide-eyed and confused.

“Are you sure?” you ask, searching his face for any sign of what’s bothering him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat. You’re so so close, so so beautiful and all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss you, but he’s convinced you don’t feel the same way. So, instead, he just nods, giving you a small, strained smile.

You sigh, dropping his hand, and for a split second, he wonders if he really did ruined everything. He might as well just dig a whole and crawl inside it, but you start walking again and he follows.

“Okay, but if something’s bothering you, you know you can tell me, right?” you say, trying to keep your tone light, even though you’re a little frustrated that he won’t open up.

“Yeah, I know,” Soobin mumbles. Once again kicking himself mentally for not being able to just say what’s on his mind and be a normal person.

The rest of the walk is filled with a comfortable silence, but it’s the kind that makes Soobin’s thoughts race even faster. He’s so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn’t notice the way you keep glancing at him, trying to figure out what’s going on.

When you finally reach your door, you turn to him, your heart pounding in your chest. It looks like you want to say something and he hopes is not a revelation that you actually hate him for ruining a perfect night, but all that comes out is a soft, “Goodnight, Soobin. Thank you for everything. It was the best night ever.”

“Goodnight, Y/N, im really glad” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitate for a moment, then lean in to kiss his cheek.

“Sweet dreams,” you say with a smile, before disappearing inside.

Soobin stands there, staring at the closed door, mind all fuzzy. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it’s no use. His critical thinking skills went away with you so he doesn’t know what to think other than to become the best dancer you’ve ever seen. Because he’s that dumb and because maybe, just maybe, if he does, you’ll look at him the way you looked at Hoshi tonight.

----

Somehow Soobin didn’t make you not want to see him ever again so, the next day, you two are back at your place, ready to binge-watch this new drama Soobin’s been waiting to start since Beomgyu said it was the best thing he ever saw, but he’s having real trouble focusing on the screen. Every laugh, every breath, every time you shift closer, sends his heart racing.

You, on the other hand, are trying your best to get his attention. The way Soobin’s been acting lately is nothing less than confusing. One moment he's making dad jokes and making you laugh till your sides hurt, the next, he's lost in thought, as if he’s not even there.

Halfway through the episode, you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a dramatic yawn as you lean into Soobin’s side, your body brushing against his making his pulse quicken.

Soobin freezes, his eyes widening. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you murmur, nuzzling closer, "Just comfy. Is that alright?"

His heart pounds in his chest. "YEah! Comfy is… good."

“Good.”

A tense silence comes between you two and you can faintly feel the TV in the background, but neither of you really hears it. You’re so close now that Soobin can feel your breath on his neck and he feel to himself that he needs to stop acting like a fourteen year old being alone with a girl for the first time now. He’s convinced this is the moment where you’ll feel how fast his heart’s beating and realize how hopelessly in love he is with you and then you’ll freak out and it’ll all be over and-

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” you say, “Is everything alright?”

Soobin nearly chokes on his own tongue. “Me? Weird? Nope not at all! I’m—uh—totally normal. Just…normal Soobin... behavior.” He clears his throat, trying to play it cool, making you scoff a little.

You raise an eyebrow. “Normal, huh?” You shift even closer, your hand brushing his thigh. Soobin tenses, heat rushing to his face. “Because you’ve been acting like there’s something's going on. Something you’re not telling me.”

“I—” Soobin starts, but you cut him off by placing your hand over his, your fingers lacing together. The simple gesture makes him shiver all over, and suddenly, word vomit is coming out out of his mouth before he can stop them. “You’ve been talking a lot about dancers lately.”

“Dancers?” you repeat, genuinely puzzled.

“Yeah, like Hoshi, and Taemin, and—and Yeonjun,” he says, the last name coming out quieter, almost like he’s embarrassed. But he already started and he’s not sure he can come back from that and from the confused look on your face, he’s sure he can’t sink any lower. So he goes for it… as much as he can, anyway.

“I just thought—well, I thought maybe you liked them. Like, really liked them. And I’m not, you know, a dancer. So I thought…maybe I should.. that you don’t…”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and then you burst out laughing. Not the reaction Soobin was expecting. “You think I don’t like you because you’re not a dancer?” you manage to say between giggles. “Soobin, that’s-- no! That's ridiculous!”

Soobin’s face turns bright red, and he pulls his hand away turning towards you completely “It’s not ridiculous,” he mutters, pouting slightly. “And it’s not just that, it’s about the whole vibe I bring to the function! I just… I’m trying to be someone you’d actually like.”

You scoot closer, closing the gap he just created. “Soobin, I already like you. A lot. And not because of some dumb reason like dancing. I like you, Soobin.”

Soobin blinks, completely caught off guard. “You…like me? Despite… everything?”

“No, Soobin. I don’t like you despite everything you are, I do exactly because of it. I like pretty much everything about you.”

“Rea…lly? Even the fact that I… have an… anime club membership?”

You roll your eyes playfully, your hand finding its way back to his thigh, your fingers trailing up his inner leg. “Yes, Soobin, I like that too. Honestly, I’ve been trying to get you to notice for weeks now, but you’ve been so oblivious! I was starting to think I’d have to spell it out for you.”

“Well, you kinda do,” he says, still processing your words. “Because I’m clearly not the brightest when it comes to this stuff.”

You grin, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Well, then. How about I show you instead?” You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “Would that help you understand?”

Soobin’s breath hitches, and he nods slowly. He thinks he might explode any second now. Is this really how he wants to die?

You move to straddle his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders as you look at him with a playful smile, and the answer is yes.

He stares at you, his hands hesitating at your waist, not quite believing this is real. “Are you…are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Positive,” you murmur, your lips inching closer to his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And just like that, you kiss Soobin.

He melts right into it and his brain registers it so, so slowly, and once it hits him that you are kissing him, — that he is kissing you,— his arms wrapping around you as he finally lets himself believe that this is real.

As the kiss deepens, you pull back slightly, your forehead resting against his as you both catch your breath. “So,” you whisper, your fingers tracing small circles on his chest, “are you finally convinced?”

Soobin grins, his dimples on full display and his mind full of you. “Yeah,” he says, his voice filled with awe. “I think I am.”

You smile back, leaning in for another kiss, but this time, Soobin surprises you by pulling you even closer, his lips moving against yours with a newfound confidence. The kiss turns more intense, your hands tangling in his hair as his grip on your waist tightens.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, faces flushed with excitement. “I’m not going anywhere. Soobin” you say, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead.

Soobin’s breath is intense, his body reacting to your proximity and your voice. His hands roam up to your back, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls you even closer, the heat between you growing almost unbearable.

You slide your body against his, your hips grinding slowly, deliberately, as your lips meet his once more in a passionate, fervent kiss. Soobin’s hands grip your hips, guiding you against him with a need that matches your own.

And as for the dance lessons? Well, Soobin might still take Yeonjun up on that offer—if only to keep up with your pace.

#soobin #soobin x reader #soobin fluff #soobin au #choi soobin #soobin imagines #soobin x y/n #soobin x you #soobin scenarios #txt x reader #tomorrow x together

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weirdmageddon · 18 days ago

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with the help of a friend i successfully transfered everything from my PREGNANT surface 3 tablet from 2016 high school with swollen batteries after some frustrations and scares.

the battery swelling and screen warping had happened over a month ago and i hadn’t had plugged my tablet in since then. but today i wanted to get my paint tool sai brushes and textures off of it, only to be reminded of this. so i talked to one of my newer friends who happens to work at a computer repair shop and he swung by my place since he does home visits anyway.

i didn’t actually know how volatile bloated batteries truly are in reality. especially if they’ve been discharged for over a month. people online say theyre dangerous and you shouldnt even turn your device on, but i have a feeling they’re saying that so people don’t get carried away continuing to use them. but i’m smart and know this thing is finished, but i need data that is on here.

my friend says that he’s had customers use laptops with swollen batteries exclusively on the charger for over 6 months after he told them to get it replaced.

when he comes over we plug it in. the fearmongering internet says you should NEVER EVER plug in a device with swollen lithium ion batteries, so i was scared something was gonna happen or the batteries were going to get hot and swell as chemical reactions happen in them. but nothing happened. the internet lied to me. nothing happened. plugging it in was actually necessary to get past the 0xc0000225 blue screen error which i had been receiving even before the batteries swelled so much they opened the screen. it was unpredictable if it would boot up with that or not, sometimes it did sometimes it didn’t. my tablet would also sometimes shut down at random with no warning in the middle of drawing and that’s when i knew i needed to start looking for something else. but yeah so nothing happened and having it plugged in was essential in order for my tablet to not shut off in the 3 hours it took to transfer data to a USB stick.

and my tablet didn’t even get hot the entire time. (though i turned the screen brightness down to 0 in order to protect against any potential source of excessive heat during the process.)

over a decade’s years worth of paint tool sai brush settings …. welcome back on my main laptop where i use my intuos pro to draw now. i will probably be more inclined to make more art now :D

this post was originally a lot longer and more detailed about the technical scares if something were to have gone wrong but tumblr eated it with a background refresh :\ e.g., the memory chip in this device is soldered on, not removable like a m.2 SSD, so if something happened to the hardware, then my data would be unrecoverable.

my friend even bought a portable windows drive to boot into WinPE but thankfully it wasn’t necessary. he brought the USB keyboard since my surface 3 doesn’t recognize the finicky external keyboard attached by magnetic pins until the boot-up process is over and you’re at the lock screen, so it wouldn’t have been possible to do advanced boot during startup with the F8 key (which we also didn’t actually need anyway, since plugging it in got rid of the blue screen booting error).

#mine

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ratsvalley · 3 months ago

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So I’m working on carrot chapter 3 which means I’m definitely not gonna be able to draw this out for a while but consider the following for a Coalectra Valentine’s oneshot…I can’t write so take my ramblings.

YES THEYRE ON MY MIND ALL THE DAMN TIME I CAN NEVER GET RID OF THEM

This headcanon is also surprisingly fluffy this time…

-I like to imagine Electra employs their components for any time of social interaction, whether it be gift giving, invitations, or even ordering food. (Hmmm possibly hinting to Electra having social anxiety hmmm)

Back to gift giving, Electra is rich, meaning they can and will spoil their partners with lavish expensive gifts. And they always get their components to deliver them.

-When it comes to Porter they’ll get him things that they think would suit them, like new clothes (they don’t like to admit it but they get very giddy when they see Porter wearing them). They also give him dark chocolates (they’re both dark chocolate enjoyers you can fight me on this) and little cakes throughout his shifts. Porters not a huge sweets guy but he’ll gladly eat them if Electra bought them.

-And it’s always the components who deliver them, usually under the guise of “an important order from Electra that you should very urgently attend to.” Then they pull him into an abandoned alleyway to give him the gift. It was a little frustrating at first, not having Electra to thank for these gifts but Porter would get used to it eventually.

-He wasn’t the richest freight around, so getting Electra good gifts was impossible. Every so often he’d be able to save up a paycheck to buy them something nice, which they would deliver to them IN PERSON

Oh also my friend @rowansro came up with an idea that Porter gave Electra a little pet rock once and now I’m inclined to believe Electra keeps it in a cupboard to take out and hold fondly when they break up. Cause like it or not, they miss him.

-Back to the present… it’s Valentine’s Day and Electra wants to be the one to deliver Porter’s gift in person. They’re inwardly cringing when they realize they want to do something they consider sappy and sweet but oh god just imagining the look on Porter’s face as he opens his gift is enough to motivate them.

They decide to surprise him in the middle of his shift, which alarms him and the other freights. They’d never expected THE Electra to show up while they’re working, and the side eye Slick, Lumber, and Hydra give Porter when they ask to speak in private is LOUD and MASSIVE.

-Now despite Electra’s initial willingness, they find now that they are UTTERLY TERRIFIED upon the realization that they didn’t think of what to say. Usually Killerwatt thinks of something on the spot or they’ll just relay a premade message, but of COURSE they had to deliver it themselves when they didn’t even plan on what to say.

Porter on the other hand is positively melting at the idea that Electra actually took time out of their day to hand him a gift, he notices how nervous they are and immediately thanks them for delivering the gift. Now Electra has to swallow their pride and let Porter do the talking for both of them as they regain their composure.

And yet, all they can think about was the look in Porter’s eyes when he saw them walk in to hand him a gift. Such a small gesture, something that shouldn’t be this fascinating to anyone…and yet it made him happy. So obviously they need to do this more.

#see? I can make them happy…sometimes #stex 2024 #stex #stex london 2024 #electra the electric engine #porter the coal truck #coalectra #electra x porter

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honeytama · 10 months ago

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sooo many thoughts,, barbecue n fireworks w/bestie matt (feat. bomens boys) under the cut

fluff fluff fluff

ugh grill king ily,,,,,you’re so adorable w your special grilling gear and apron that you just have to pack with you :( even on tour bc who knows when there’s going to b the chance to cook something up for your friends aw

imagine you, best friend! matt, and the guys having an off day in the summer time. he’s so excited to cook for you bc you’ve never had his food and mans is constantlyyyy talking about it.

you tease him about needing to try it for yourself to see if he’s really the best

“i know my stuff is good. you’re gonna be begging me for seconds,” he boasts, clicking his tongs at you.

mhm ok

you offer to be his assistant or just to stand with him

“nope!, i’m in control, just relax and let me take care of it”

so you sit your pretty little self in a fold out chair sipping your favorite bevy he put in the cooler just for you (bonus: if it’s a celcius that he got you into, he’s so proud of himself) and just watch/talk and laugh w him while he stands there vigilantly watching the food…. w his apron on and hair tied back :(( (sorry domestic matt just really gets to me)

once the food is ready, he calls everyone over to make their plates but he already knows what you like 😭

“just sit there, i got it ☝️”

he fixes it up for you and you look down at the plate,, it’s perf with all your favorites and condiments and sides stoppp

“you want another drink?? i put an extra (your fav) in the cooler,,here” without you saying yes he’s digging through the ice to grab it for you. acts of service are his specialty <3

while you’re eating, he’s constantly trying to get up to refill your plate or getting you napkins or making fun of you for getting ketchup on ur face and trying to wipe it away :( the guys are just liiikkke uhh bro STAND UP (actually sit down they don’t need 10 napkins theyre FINE ,,,, also the boys have never seen matt flirt before so it’s a lil awk)

later in the night, matt and folio are being country boys and setting off mini fireworks in the empty parking lot nearby while everyone watches,, excitedly w a lil bit of fear of course

matt runs over to the chair next to you to watch them go off and you tell him you’re a lil freaked out that something might go wrong and/or you’re afraid of the booms

he holds your hand in his on top of your chair’s arm rest and tells you “it’ll be okay” ;~; he “wouldn’t do it if you would be in danger” ;~;

you watch his face glow in the light of the fireworks and your heart feels like it’s gonna explode, especially when he looks at you to check if you’re as proud of him as he is himself

ALSO !!! matt bought sparklers and guess what no one NO ONE can use them but you two ahh

“noah, no these are for y/n and i get your own!”

“PLEASE just one” noah tries to fight him on it :/

“you should have planned ahead !!”

guard dog matt..

“AY who tf took 3 sparklers?? stay out of my shit! now y/n only gets to do it twice 😩”

matt’s always listening btw, it’s why he got you the sparklers in the first place :) he remembered you telling him you wanted to try those old cutie pinterest pics where you write each other’s names and draw w sparklers…

he’s thinks it’s dumb! and probably won’t work! BUT ANYTHING FOR U

noah does get 1 sparkler to share w nick! folio n jolly get their own bc theyre good boys and don’t steal. you all are trying to figure out how to get the best pictures and matt’s just busting their balls saying you’re better at it than they are 💀

when you finally get back to matt who’s been watching you have fun from his seat,, you show him your pictures….

you tease him when his cheeks show a bit of pink and his lips turn up just a bit

“oh, cute…”

you’ve shown him a pic of u drawing ‘ matt + y/n <3 ‘

he sees you staring EEE “shut up”

“matt, i didn’t even say anything!!”

the matt eye roll,, “whatever just remember to send that to me…”

#4th of July is eh but it would be much better if matt was making me Mexican hot dogs !#matt dierkes #matt dierkes x reader #matt thoughts

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crimsonwolf715 · 4 months ago

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Home Sick

Gojo can hear coughing before he even opens the front door. It quiets down as he unlocks the door. He opens it.

“Megumi?”

Megumi’s arm reaches over the couch to wave at him for a moment before dropping back down. Gojo shuts the door.

“I brought your favorite dumplings. Are you alright?”

Instead of the normal, “I’m fine, leave me alone, Gojo”, he gets silence from Megumi.

Gojo walks over to the other side of the couch and Megumi looks terrible. His face is swollen and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes, which are currently open but staring at the TV, are bloodshot.

“Megumi!”

Megumi jumps at the sudden rise in Gojo’s volume.

“What?” he hisses.

“You’re sick!”

“Your observation skills are impeccable as usual.”

“I have to call Shoko.”

“It’s just a cold, Gojo. You’re overreacting.”

“You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m being serious. It looks bad. Have you taken anything?”

“Yes, I have. I’m gonna take more medicine when the alarm on my phone goes off. Like I said, you’re overreacting.”

Gojo sighs. “Have you eaten anything?”��

Megumi shakes his head.

“I’ll make you something.”

“I’d rather you not. You’re not a good cook.”

“I’m going to go make soup,” Gojo says, then heads into the kitchen.

After digging around in the cabinet for a couple minutes, he finds the pot and puts it on the stove. Megumi walks into the kitchen, looking more like he’s dragging himself.

“You don’t need to supervise me,” Gojo says, waving his hands dramatically. “I can make this. Go, sit down. You should be resting.”

“You shooing me away doesn’t give me a lot of confidence,” Megumi replies as he walks back into the living room.

“I’m doing it for your own good. Go rest on the couch.”

“Sure thing.”

Gojo starts putting everything in the pot and turns it on. He then pulls out his phone to text Shoko.

Me: Hey, can you bring some cold medicine and sports drinks once you’re done with work? Not the purple ones because Megumi hates those.

Shoko: Of course. Is he sick?

Me: Yeah, I was out yesterday and most of today so I only figured out about it a little bit ago.

Shoko: Just don’t be weird.

Me: I’m never weird.

A pause, even though it says she’s read the text.

Shoko: Yeah, definitely not weird. I’ll swing by later because I’m about to leave.

Me: Thanks, Shoko.

Shoko: You’re welcome.

Gojo finishes up the soup and puts some in a bowl for Megumi. He lets it cool while he finds the dinosaur cup that he bought Megumi ages ago, like when he was eleven. He makes tea, then pours it into the dinosaur cup. He takes both into the living room and sets them down.

“Why that cup?” Megumi asks.

“Because it’s cute. And rawr.”

“Rawr?”

“Rawr,” Gojo answers with a nod.

Megumi shakes his head, then turns his attention to the soup. He looks at it skeptically. “So you made this?”

“Yes, I did. It’s something I actually can make. Please try it.”

Megumi nods, then obediently tries it.

“Is it bad?” Gojo asks.

“No, it’s fine,” Megumi answers.

Gojo fist pumps. “Yes.”

Megumi smiles for a moment before resuming slowly eating. Gojo goes and gets a bowl for himself, then comes back. Megumi eats half a bowl of soup while Gojo eats a whole bowl of soup. Once they’re done, Gojo takes the bowls back into the kitchen.

When Gojo comes back, Megumi’s on his phone. Gojo sits down on the far right side of the couch, then leans his head back. Megumi lays down with his head on Gojo’s leg, causing Gojo to pick his head back up. Megumi’s facing the TV. Gojo smiles.

“I will move if you start becoming unbearable,” Megumi says.

“I will not become a problem,” Gojo promises, raising his hands in surrender.

Megumi quietly watches the TV while Gojo scrolls on his phone.

"I wish she was here right now," Megumi says quietly.

Tsumiki. He probably constantly wishes that. I wish that she was here too.

"Me too," Gojo replies.

When Megumi dozes off, Gojo turns the TV volume down to eliminate the risk of it waking him up.

After a while, a quiet knock on the door draws Gojo’s attention away from Megumi. Shoko opens the door with a grocery bag.

“Hey, Satoru,” Shoko says quietly.

Gojo waves.

“Is he asleep already?”

Gojo nods. “Yeah, isn’t he cute?”

Shoko nods, then Megumi huffs in his sleep.

“I think he knows what we’re talking about,” Shoko says with a smile.

Gojo shrugs.

Shoko puts the grocery bag down on the counter. “The medicine and the sports drinks you asked for.”

“Thank you.”

She leans her back against the counter. “Do you need me to stay?”

Gojo shakes his head. “Nope, I’m all good. I’ve calmed down a little and am not overwhelming Megumi anymore.”

“That’s good.”

“It… I know it shouldn’t have, but it kinda reminded me of…” Gojo trails off.

It takes a moment, but Shoko sighs. “He’s alright. It won’t be the same, Satoru.”

“I know, but I worry sometimes. I know that I pay attention now, but sometimes I think that I could miss something. That it’ll snowball out of my control. Not just with Megumi, with Itadori and Nobara too.”

“But it’s not the same with them because it’s not the same connection.”

Gojo nods. “Yeah, he’s my buddy.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m glad.”

“Me too. What would I do without my buddy?” Gojo replies. “I’d be sad, I already know the answer to that. It was rhetorical. Do you want soup before you go?”

“No thank you. I am gonna head out though. I’ll come back and check on you two in the morning,” Shoko says.

“Bye, Shoko,” Gojo says.

Shoko heads out and locks the door behind her. Gojo ends up dozing off not long after Shoko leaves.

#sicktember 2024 #sicktember #no.9 #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #shoko ieiri #gojo and megumi #common cold #sickfic #ao3 fanfic

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sanctum-of-ramshackle · 2 months ago

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🔻🥷The Ninja & The Kitsune: Prologue🦊🌸

[Synopsis]: A new student comes to Norrisville High and they’re not what they seem to be.

[TW]: Actual cursing, some canonical violence, and some graphic descriptions of violence.

[PLATONIC]

[Gender Neutral Reader]

[(A/N)]: Hi, everyone. I know this isn’t TWST-related content, but it’s something I’ve been working on. This is nostalgia, right here. I used to watch this show on Disney XD when I was in middle school and always thought this was superior entertainment. I assumed there are others who also remember RC9GN and thought it would be fun to write something that brings back 2012 vibes. However, I do need to apologize and address a fair warning as there will be actual curse words compared to the show’s vocabulary replacements because nowadays, real-life teenagers say stuff like, “F**k this sh*t!”, “B*tch, please.” and the list goes on. Just to sound more realistic. (Disney, you better not sue my ass for this. You basically let the show to be abandoned without further updates.)

Norrisville, an unassuming town where almost half of the population is influenced by McFist Incorporation for their unique products.

As for education, Norrisville High is one of the most famous high schools anyone wish to register.

Reason: It’s the constant fights between a possessed student/mechanic monstrosity and Norrisville’s famous vigilante, The Ninja. Students would watch and cheer for the savior.

However, another fighter joins the school and has their own personal duties.

🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸

[Homeroom]

“Class, we have a new student joining us. Introduce yourself.”

[Y/N]: Hello, I’m [Y/N] [L/N] and I just moved from [Your home country or state]. Hopefully we can get along in the future.

[Some students in the classroom greeted them back, lazily.]

[Y/N]: *Finds their desk and sits by* “Fuck. I forgot how much I hate high school.”

🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸

[Lunch period rolls in and [Y/N] was eating some questionable nuggets while reading some textbooks to “refresh their mind” since it’s been a while covering familiar topics. Everything was normal, until a group invaded their personal space.]

Bash: So, you’re the new kid?

[Y/N]: *Sandwiched between Bash’s goons* Ugh, you’re the bully I’ve been hearing about. What do you want?

Bash: You look cool enough to be in our gang. You wanna join?

[Y/N]: Uhh…No thanks. *Pushes the goons away from their sides* I don’t hang with future criminals doing stupid shit like wedgies on victims. What are you, mentally four?

Bash: *Flustered* N-No! I’m not four!

[The students present in the cafeteria started to draw their attentions to the commotion.]

[Y/N]: You’re behaving like one. Pretty obvious you’re only able to attend high school due to your step-daddy’s income, business and influence. Subtract those and you would’ve been on the receiving end of torment.

[People began “OOO-ing” at the seething truth as they surround the two.]

[Y/N]: Lunch period is almost over. I have some studying to do, so don’t bother me.

[As they return the lunch tray, Bash grabbed their shoulders from behind. That was the biggest mistake he ever made.]

[Y/N]: *Instincts kicked in and flips Bash over to slam against the floor, twists his arm behind him* Try anything else. I dare you, step-bastard. *Tightens their grip*

Bash: *In excruciating pain* AHHHHHHHH!!! MOOOMMMMMMY!

[Everyone gasp in disbelief due to the new student, able to beat Bash down. Many whispers circulate among the many who witnessed the action.]

[Y/N]: “Dammit. I got eyes on me.” *Lets go of Bash* Do anything like that to me or others, say goodbye to your life. *Senses danger and sprints out of the cafeteria*

🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸

[During the same day, another monster was causing chaos at the high school and The Ninja happens to be at the sight, fighting against the enemy. What he didn’t suspect was a surprise attack by the abomination with its multiple appendages grabbing hold on him. The man-made creature has its clawed hand to choke the masked hero’s neck.]

Ninja: What the…Fuuu…?

[As he was about to loose into the darkening unconsciousness, a force kicks the monstrous beast off of him square in the face. The Ninja drops down catches his breath from the near strangulation and peers over who or what saved him. There, he sees another figure in a dark suit accessorized with a causal yukata, winter-coated fur and donning a traditional fox mask with nine tails.]

Kitsune: *Stands still with a fighting pose and unsheathe their sharp-edged claws out* *Gestures at the monster to come at their direction*

[The monster charges towards them and swing in for the attack. They flip away, easily dodging the fist and use an energy orb to shock the enemy, stunning them. With ease, they sliced a few of its multiple limbs, a sickening goo leaking out of the wounds.]

Kitsune: “Green fluid, mechanical parts and biological components. Guess it’s the work of McFist’s doing.”

[As the monster charges back at the fox with its remaining strength, the figure jumps over the animated body. Lands behind and thrust their claws through the backside, yanking out its power source, beating in their palm before it was crushed. The monster limps down on the ground, motionless. The optics of the recent corpse are still active.]

Kitsune: *Grabs a hold of the monster’s head and glares in the eyes* “We’ll see you soon, McFist.” *Claws out the monster’s cameras*

[Static flickers in the holographic screen.]

[Back at McFist’s lair]

McFist: What was that about, Viceroy?!

Viceroy: Don’t look at me. Even I didn’t know The Ninja had a partner.

McFist: Then do something about it.

[Back to the masked protectors]

Ninja: That was fucking awesome! You literally sliced that monster with your own bare claws.

Kitsune: ...Thanks. You were certainly skilled yourself. Just need a little more precision with that katana of yours.

Ninja: Oh, thanks for the advice? Still, you came out of nowhere and killed one of Viceroy’s creations to save my ass. How did you do that?

Kitsune: I’ll tell you, but see the new student, first.

Ninja: New student? Oh, [Y/N], I think. I seen them before so if they’re- *Looks back where mysterious being was standing*

[The Fox vanished without a trace.]

Ninja: Wow. They left without saying anything. *Throws down a smoke bomb and disappears as well*

🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸

[The next day, everything seemed normal as students head to their assigned classes. Randy was passing through the halls and before he reached the room, he was snatched back and dragged into the Janitor’s closet.]

[Y/N]: *Locks the door behind them* Randy Cunningham, one of Norrisville’s freshmen. Or should say Norrisville’s protector.

Randy: What are you talking about?

[Y/N]: Cut the obliviousness, Cunningham. I know your secret.

Randy: Still don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not like you have proof to confirm anything.

[Y/N]: *Whispers to him* You’re Norrisville’s Ninja.

Randy: *Startled* H-How did you find out? Does that fox know about my secret?

[Y/N]: Randy, I’m that “fox”.

Randy: *Realization hits him* Whaaa?

[Y/N]: Plus, not everyone smells like smoke bombs. Even if it’s faint, I can follow the scent.

Randy: You smelt me?

[Y/N]: It’s not what you think. If you need to, we’ll continue this talk back at my place. Pass me your phone.

[After [Y/N] enters their number into his phone, the two left the closet and went their separate ways.]

[Y/N]: *Looks back* And bring your friend, too. We need to have a serious discussion.

🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸

[After school, both Randy and Howard follow the address to [L/N]’s residence. The two teenagers don’t know what to expect, but as they reached their destination: they were led to a mansion hidden in a secluded area centered in a forest.]

Howard: I can’t believe you got invited by the new kid and they’re actually rich.

Randy: That’s not what we’re here, Howard. They know my secret.

Howard: Seriously? You told them?

Randy: No. They smelt my stank-ass

Howard: That’s schnasty.

Randy: They have a keen sense of smell.

[At the front doors, Randy knocked and they open up, showcasing the interior of the main hall. The two teenagers enter inside and the doors close shut on their own. Up at the top of the staircase, [Y/N] is shown with their arms crossed and staring down at Randy and Howard.]

[Y/N]: *Walks down the stair* I cannot believe I became immortal just to be stuck with this kid.

Randy: Did you just say you’re immortal?

[Y/N]: Yes, I am. I’ll properly introduce myself. I’m [Y/N] [L/N], Norrisville’s Kitsune. The mystical Nine-Tailed Fox.

Randy: Never heard of you.

[Y/N]: That’s because I’m on the down low. I usually watch over every candidate of who fulfills the Ninja’s role during the past centuries. When I learned who filled in the position this time, it’s you. A fucking irresponsible high schooler.

Randy: Don’t be like that. I am responsible.

[Y/N]: *Glares at him*

Randy: Okay, not as responsible. Why did you come to Norrisville High?

[Y/N]: After learning you became The Ninja, I had to disguise myself as a student just to keep a close eye on you. I was supposed to go unnoticed but that Bash idiot blew my cover and had to beat his ass to silence him.

Howard: Huh, that’s why he looked scared yesterday.

[Y/N]: Any other questions?

Randy: How old are you, exactly?

[Y/N]: Close to 800 years.

Randy: Okaaaay. So, what now?

[Y/N]: Guess we’ll be a trio from now on.

Howard: Whoa whoa whoa, we can’t be a trio. It’s always me and Cunningham.

[Y/N]: Weinerman, I declare this arrangement since you know his double life and it’s best to stay together. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll cause.

Howard: I don’t cause anything.

[Y/N]: I watched your sister’s news blog about the time you almost revealed Randy’s secret identity.

Howard: Oh yeah. Forgot about that.

Randy: You have a good point.

[Y/N]: I always do. Now, if you excuse me, I have some business to take care of. My staff will be at your need so make yourselves comfortable.

🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸♢♢♢🔻🥷🔻🌸🦊🌸

[During Study Period]

Randy: Uggghhhh…Math is an ass.

[Y/N]: Look, if you want to be more responsible, you also need to keep up with your studies. Now, what does X represent?

Randy: *Sulking* I don’t know…

[Y/N]: *Sighs* “This is gonna be a long training period.”

[Tagged]: @hhurric4ne

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