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mythophosfox · 1 year ago

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Blade x Abundance!reader

Word Count͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1.9k (One-Shot)

Reader is gender neutral // Not proofread

A/N͟͟͞͞➳❥English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar errors. The reader follows the path of abundance, and their origins can be up to interpretation. Have fun imagining yourself a backstory ;). This is more or less a test for a concept I've boiled up in my brain.

Cw ➳❥ Possible OOC, Mild body Horror, abrupt ending, illness, mention of pain, Soft, wholesome, SFW, vague on purpose.

Summary ➳❥ Blade meets you, a follower of the abundance, during one of his Mara crises. You heal him and leave leaving only your name. Who are you, he ponders. Once he finds himself desperate, he whispers your name.

Blade sat on the floor, hidden inside an abandoned merchant stall on the Loafu—his body tenses, the mara ever so threateningly consuming his mind. He hisses at the pain, holding back a groan from the intoxicating pain. Unable to move, run, or call Kafka for help. In these moments, even he couldn't help but to feel desperation. Maybe it’ll finally eat him alive this time, letting him meet his long-awaited end. His eyes closed. Corrupted memories and faded voices calling to him, a stabbing pain piercing the remains of his bruised lonely heart. Only the hope of death lay dryly on his tongue. Blade felt joy as his conscience faded into the dark, his body limping on the floor.

Blade could only hear the ringing in his ears until the thumping of footsteps appeared close to him. A light hand places itself on his shoulder. The unsupportable pain starts to vanish from his body, spreading from the singular light touch. The memories fade, freeing him from their strain. Blade lifts his head in a daze, vision foggy from his symptoms. He sees someone crouched next to him, their hand still placed on his shoulder. The person smiles at him softly. Throughout his body, gladioli buds start to sprout. The sprouts grow on his scars, lessening their pain. His mara calms, freeing his mind to think clearly again. The fog in his eyes dissipates, now able to see you fully. He suddenly winces out of your touch, backing away from you with sharp threatening eyes. You quickly bring your hand back to yourself.

-’’ My apologies, I mean no harm.’’ You spurt out, attempting to calm him.

Blade only stares at you with intensity, his face back to a neutral state. A deep groan escapes his lips. He considered knocking you out, unwilling to uselessly harm someone for an escape, but he quickly realized how dissipated his mara felt. His eyes widen, witnessing the bourgeons and flowers spread around his torn muscles. How did you-- Abundance? Even so- how was it so effective? His gaze wanders back to you as you innocently stare back.

-’’ You should be feeling better for a few.’’ You chirped softly, standing back up on your feet. ‘’ I need to move, Good day.’’

-’’ Wait!’’

As you turn your back, Blade mindlessly takes hold of your wrist. You turn back, surprised by the man’s sudden outburst. Blade didn’t know what he was doing, maybe he was losing his mind even more. His grip loosens, but you don’t pull your hand back.

-’’ How-’’ He shuddered. -’’ y/n’’

His mouth is agape as you cut him off. He quickly swallows his tongue.

-’’ If you ever need me again, call my name.’’ You state as if it was a simple fact.

You free yourself from his grip gently before walking away from the premises, disappearing within the simulated horizon of the Loafu. Blade watches your figure disappear, his normal expression back on his face. He didn’t know you, nor did he care about you. He was simply lucky, and you were foolish. Why would he ever remember your name?

…

Weeks later, Blade lays in his bed at the stellaron hunter’s base. His mara is acting up, making him twist and turn on his futon. His covers are thrown off the futon as his body feels too hot to sustain it. He finally lays on his back, exhausted and restless. He breathes heavily, sweat sliding off his muscles, wetting his bandaged chest. It stings, leaving him breathless for only a moment every few seconds. His trousers are drenched, sticking uncomfortably on his legs. His eyes blur as he stares at the ceiling. Memories flood his weakened mind, making him clench his fists until his fingernails pierce through his skin. The pain is unbearable, consuming him once more like it always was. Groans escapes his lips every few minutes, unable to control the debilitating feeling throughout his ill body. As Blade feels his consciousness fade, something flashes in his mind. A recent memory, a word, a name. He fought the need to say it. His pride unwilling to do something so pathetic. A sudden sting causes him to groan loudly as he barred his teeth in thin air. Dammit, dammit it all.

-’’y/n…y/n…’’

Blade felt pitiful, gasping your name out of his burning throat. Nothing answered to him apart from the echo of his pleas. Of course, you won’t come. You were in the Loafu after all, and he was lightyears away from you. He so stupidly kept calling your name, desperate from the mara. Against his pride and his better judgment, he couldn’t help but call out your name silently. He frowns in frustration.

-‘’y/n…y/n!’’ He barely screamed that last one, but nothing. Not you or the relief will ever arrive. He closes his eyes, exhausted and in pain. Maybe- just maybe, something could deliver him from this never-ending curse.

The air suddenly feels fresher. Blade noticed that his futon seemed to have changed…texture? He quickly realizes that his pain is suddenly numbed. Although still present, it’s barrable. His eyes shot open, greeted by a light blue sky. His eyes widen, feeling a cool breeze all over his body. What in the? He sits up, touching his bandages and chest confused. Was this a dream? The afterlife? His body feels fuzzy as if ants were crawling beneath his skin. He looks around the plains surrounding him.

A vast field of gladiolus bloomed before him, showing their diverse and saturated colours. The field seems to be endless, crossing the horizon. It sways in unison as a breeze traverses the blooming flowers.

Blade finds the force to stand up, holding his arm with his hand. Although he’s able to walk, the fuzzy feeling forces him to limp softly on the pillowy grass. Was this death? He looks down at the imprint of his body on the flattened flowers. Would a dream be this detailed? Without a thought and without a destination, Blade starts walking weakly in any direction. He leaves behind him a trail of red spider lilies, new flowers blooming at his every step. It feels like hours as he aimlessly wanders inside the never-ending plains. Finally, he sees what looks like a small cabin. He furrows his eyebrows, both happy and cautious of such a finding. As he approaches he smells something in the distance, sweets. The field opens up to a clearing. Between him and the house a few meters away, lays a picnic blanket with pastries arranged elegantly on its surface. On the edge of the blanket, there you are, sitting peacefully with a cup of tea in your hands. Blade’s eyes widen in disbelief. It’s you. He approaches you with more hurry than before.

You enjoy your favourite blend of tea, humming delightfully to yourself. You feel the presence you’ve been waiting for you. You turn your head towards the figure. You watch silently as Blade slowly approaches you. He stops in his tracks, leaving some distance between the two of you.

-’’ You–You’re here.’’ He exhales.

-’’ You called.’’ You answer simply.

The warrior studies you, desperately trying to find anything suspicious about any of this, but all he felt was confusion. You give him a soft smile, aware of the questions he might have. Unknown to him, you weren’t going to answer any of his questions.

-’’ Where–’’ He tries to ask, but you cut him off as easily as last time.

-’’ Come, Join me. Have a seat.’’ You invite him. Your voice is soft and calming, which bothers Blade.

Nonetheless, he closes his distance and sits next to you. He feels awkward, and not used to interacting with strangers. His walls are still up towards you. After all, you barely knew each other. You tap your lap softly, inviting him to rest his head on top of it. His eyes widen as he gives you a glare. You stare back, unbothered.

-’’ You look pained, I can fix that…’’ You whisper you’re voice honeyed, inviting him further.

Blade scoffs at the absurdity of this entire situation. First, he wakes up in an unknown field, then he rests on your lap? He might as well go with it. Blade shifts the weight of his body, his back facing you before he reluctantly places his head on your thighs. You chuckle, gently putting a hand through his hair. The man closes his eyes at the touch, furrowing. The gazing of your fingers on his scalp suddenly felt like heaven. The feeling spread all over his face, causing a sharp exhale to escape his nostrils. As your right-hand plays softly with his hair, your left-hand descends carefully down his bandaged chest. The buzzing in his body ceases once your finger traces his skin. He feels calm and at peace. A feeling he never thought he could ever experience. His expression relaxes for the first time in years. For once, like the last time he saw you, his body feels empty, light, and devoid of ill. The tingle of your fingers tracing his scars through the bandages gives him goosebumps. Quick gaps escaped his lips. If he knew what it meant, he’d say it’d feel like euphoria. By now, his entire body felt weightless. He pressed his head on your stomach, enjoying this feeling with water in his eyes. You giggle softly, proud of your healing work.

-’’ We can stop now if you wish to.’’ You calmly propose, removing your hand from his hair. It’s interrupted by his hand grabbing yours.

-’’ No…Please.’’ He whispers, pleading for your touch.

-’’ Very well.’’

You continue your miracle, tracing the tips of your fingers all over his chest and face. Blade relaxes completely within your grasp. His skin shudders from time to time from the gentleness of your touches. You both spend your time like this for a while. Suddenly, a distant bell chimes across the sky. You look up, disappointment on your face. You look back at the now dozed-off warrior on your lap. You caress his cheek with the back of your hand, walking him up softly.

-’’ I’m afraid our time together is over.’’ You sigh sadly. You were enjoying your time with this stellaron hunter. His calm expression, the peace in his eyes as he flutters them open. The pain you meticulously make vanish.

-’’ Will I–Ever see you again?’’ Blade asks weakly. He attempts to reach out for your cheek. You stop him, intertwining your hand with his instead.

-’’ Oh, Blade…’’ You purr. Blade’s eyes widen at the mention of his name. He never told you his name. ‘’ You only have to call my name, remember?’’

As you finish your sentence, you lower your head closer. Your soft lips barely graze his before Blade wakes up in a cold sweat.

Blade frantically sits up. He’s back in his room. Was it really a dream? He pats around his body, realizing the pain is gone. What just happened. He feels a lingering pressure on his lips. A light blush flushes his cheeks. He hovers his fingers over his lips. When he looks down at his chest he notices gladioli flowers sprouting on his skin. His eyes widen at the sight. He looks around his room. Gladioli blossoms and sprouts are scattered around his floor…

Tags ➳❥ @swivy123

End note ➳❥ If you guys love the premise, I might make a more serious short-series about this. This has been a fun concept to work with. The mystery behind who the reader is. Idk, let me know! For now I've got more coming in the works :D

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cushfuddled · 6 months ago

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I saw your Sherlock post from a couple of weeks ago just now and lol greetings from the other direction. The show died for me in season 3 when Sherlock tricked his only friend into thinking they're about to die in an explosion so John HAS to forgive Sherlock for... what is ultimately another mean trick against that friend (Reichenbach), which Sherlock didn't do to save John/Mrs. Hudson/Lestrade since Mycroft had that covered, but only because he thought John would blab. AauuuGGGHHHH.

DUDE I am passing you an "I survived Sherlock BBC" T-shirt through the screen.

Also.

YOU'VE ACTIVATED MY "SHERLOCK BBC IS A TOXIC YAOI SIMULATOR" TRAP CARD! WOE, A SHERLOCK BBC VENT BE UPON YE!

What pisses me off is that, like, Moftis could've leaned into the bullshit at least. They could've made it a CHOICE.

IMO Sherlock BBC was a horror story about homophobia and codependency. Moftis made it very clear that John is "addicted" to conflict; to danger; to Sherlock. Throughout the show John furiously stresses his heterosexuality to anyone who'll listen. He breaks himself to conform to a "normal life" with a woman and a child and a steady job. But he can only play pretend for so long. I'll never recover from that wildly on-the-nose scene where John goes to sleep next to his wife and dreams about Afghanistan (a parallel to the first scene of episode one) and his life with Sherlock.

SHERLOCK (in the dream): Seen a lot of injuries, then? Violent deaths? JOHN (in the dream): Enough for a lifetime. (In the Watsons’ bedroom there’s a pounding sound nearby, as if someone is knocking on the front door.) SHERLOCK (in the dream): Want to see some more? JOHN (in the dream): Oh, God, yes. (The banging sound comes again and John jolts and sits up in bed. Half asleep, in his mind’s eye he can see Sherlock looking intensely at him.) SHERLOCK: The game is on. (He smiles.) (John wakes up properly and throws back the covers.)

This transcript neglects to mention the shot of John ripping his hand from his wife's as he races out of the bedroom. He throws the front door open, and expresses clear disappointment when it's not Sherlock on the other side.

John DESPERATELY wants to be a normal heterosexual dude with a normal heterosexual marriage, but he can't escape his nature.

SHERLOCK (louder, talking over her): John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You’re abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people … (his voice becomes quieter again) … so is it truly such a surprise that the woman you’ve fallen in love with conforms to that pattern? (John grimaces briefly and then, with his eyes still fixed on Sherlock, he points towards his wife at the other side of the room.) JOHN (his voice full of suppressed tears): But she wasn’t supposed to be like that. (Mrs. Hudson looks across to Mary in shock. Mary lowers her head.) JOHN (to Sherlock, pointing again across the room, his voice a little stronger): Why is SHE** like that? (Sherlock looks away towards the sofa wall for several seconds and then turns to look directly into John’s eyes.) SHERLOCK: Because you chose her. (John stares back at him, his face unreadable. Sherlock holds his gaze. Finally John turns away, speaking conversationally.) JOHN: Why is everything … (he walks towards the dining table, holding up a questioning hand and shrugging) … always … (his voice raises to a loud shout) … MY FAULT?! (He furiously kicks one of the dining chairs across the floor. Mrs Hudson jumps and flails. Even Sherlock jumps a little, but Mary remains still.)

**The unspoken sentiment here is "I did all this to get away from you/what you represent. Mary was supposed to be normal. She was supposed to make ME normal. So why did she turn out to be just like you?" And of course Sherlock goes, "Because you are YOU, and YOU chose her." No matter how hard John tries to be a different person with different needs, at the end of the day he's still John Watson, and John Watson can't help but want what he wants. As furious as he is at Sherlock and Mary, John is ultimately more furious with himself for his inability to shapeshift into a "normal" man who doesn't need the war/Sherlock.

As the series went on, it got harder and harder for me not to read John's outbursts as him taking out his self-hatred/internalized homophobia on Sherlock. John fucking HATES how much he loves Sherlock. He HATES that he needs Sherlock in his life. He HATES that he couldn't find happiness with a normal life and a normal wife. Sherlock tore John's shot at normalcy away from him. He is the face of everything John can't stand about himself. And so we end up with this:

And then...holy fuck, Sherlock's not exactly a ray of sunshine either. Like you pointed out, a part of Sherlock enjoys putting John through these cruel, elaborate life or death simulations. It would've been easy to construe a scenario wherein Sherlock HAD to keep John out of the loop post-Reichenbach, but Moftis opted for a much more fucked up timeline where Sherlock let John believe he'd committed suicide for years because he...kinda wanted to fuck around Europe on his own for a while? Or didn't trust John to put on a good show?

I can massage the story enough to like, come up with a kinder excuse. If John were to find out about Moriarty's web he'd bite and claw his way to Sherlock's side like he always does, and that would put John's life (even more) at risk (a la Sherlock's eventual capture). Maybe on some level Sherlock understood John's desire to escape, too, and thus opted to "free" John from his leash.

It's more difficult to soften Sherlock's decision to reenter John's life when/how he did.

If memory serves...since the show premiered, Sherlock seemed like he was always on the lookout for new and creative ways to hurt himself (whether on John's behalf, for the sake of "the game," or as a kind of release valve).

Sherlock's constant need to sacrifice (or punish) himself conflicts with his hunger for John's approval. Sherlock would die for John's happiness...but he also needs John around to make him feel smart/loved. He likes to keep John in the dark until the last possible second—to put John in situations that leave him totally at Sherlock's mercy/dependent upon Sherlock's brilliance—to more or less blunt force engineer these moments of awe and intimacy. He's addicted to John as much as John is addicted to Sherlock, and sometimes that manifests in grand gestures of selfless devotion...and sometimes it manifests in fucked up manipulation games that reassert John's dependence on Sherlock/Sherlock's control over John's life.

So yeah. It's all very fucky IMO. And I wouldn't have suddenly loved the show if Moftis had leaned into that reality, but at the very least I'd have felt a lot less gaslit lmao. Sherlock BBC beat me over the head with the toxic yaoi paddle only to scream at me, "THEY'RE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY WERE MADE FOR EACH OTHER AND YAY AREN'T YOU HAPPY THEY'RE SUCH A GREAT TEAM YAY IT'S ALL GOOD THEY MADE UP AND THEY'RE GOOD NOW IT'S GOOD FOREVER AND EVER YAY!"

Like I'm sorry, but that finale was not a happy one. It wasn't even bittersweet. It was tragic. Mary literally ends the show with, "Who you really are doesn't matter. It's all about the legend." Sherlock and John represent a refuge to people, Mary says. Their story represents hope. We're told the manipulative, miserable, codependent mess of Sherlock and John's reality "doesn't matter." What matters is the front they present to their audience. If I thought this doublespeak was intentional, I would've applauded Moftis for their commitment to the bit at least. It takes balls to look at a legendary package deal like Doyle's Holmes and Watson (I cannot stress enough how cottage-core soft these two are with each other) and say, "What if I made that relationship super fucked up?" But the whole show stinks of empty promises, like Moftis MEANT to tell a story about a fraught but ultimately beautiful (platonic) partnership. What we GOT was a gay horror story about two very traumatized guys who couldn't escape each other's gravitational pull. I mean...pick a lane. Don't TELL me these two love each other like a couple of pals and then SHOW me John catapult between yearnful dreams of Sherlock's face and like, punting Sherlock's broken body into a wall of metal lockers.

Okay, rant over HHHHHHH

#sherlock bbc #SO ANYWAY #I was gonna make a video about this at some point but I don't know if it'd be worth it lawl #I'd have to rewatch all of Sherlock BBC and soldier through a ton of interviews and #I'm not sure I'm strong enough

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nitrosodiumepicfps · 2 years ago

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Five more First Person games

Just found out I need x10 examples of each genre. Here we go.

Portal - Ah, we all love Portal. Interestingly, I always enter a bit of a Portal phase in the autumn, so this is a very good time to be writing about it. The game may not have pioneered real-time portals; that achievement goes to Prey 2006, but it definitely popularized them, and did it well. When it comes to puzzle games, I've found that almost every one is in first person. There's more to this than a stylistic choice; you need your player to see the puzzles, and having 1/4 of your screen obscured by your character doesn't help. It's literally like trying to solve a puzzle while looking over someone's shoulder. And in Portal, where visibility is a key factor, making it first person allows you to see exactly where your portals will travel. It's clearly a good system, in fact, I can complete the game in just under an hour nowadays. That's still not even considered quick, when compared to other Portal speedrunners, who skip around outside of the level limits and drive airboats through walls or what-have-you. The game and its systems has almost been turned into a meta-puzzle, to see how quickly you can complete it using just what the game has in it.

Dying Light - This is a good one. I mean, most of the games I'm looking at are good. Between the high-adrenaline parkour and the visceral hand-to-hand combat against shrieking zombies, it's probably a lot of fun. I also like the Near Eastern setting of Harran, it's a nice change of pace to the prototypical crumbling not-New York we see in every other zombie media. Being a parkour game, you need a good view of your surroundings; what parts you can land on, what parts you can hold onto, and what parts will chew your hand off. First person perspective obviously helps with this, and also exacerbates the gory combat. Beating a zombie's face until you can see the bone doesn't have the same effect when you're watching through a floating camera situated three feet behind your character.

Outlast - I used to love this game when I was younger and slightly edgier. It's still a pretty good horror experience, the last hurrah of the early 2010s walking simulator survival horror before FNAF would come and usher in a new age of scares. The thrill of sneaking around a condemned mental asylum with nothing but a camcorder and a handful of batteries still holds up pretty well, and I like the light platforming mechanics like ledge-grabbing. What's interesting is how the horrors are enforced upon our protagonist, Miles Upshur - it's all through the hands. Outlast makes a big deal about not showing Miles' face, in fact, if you cheat and exit your body, you can see that he doesn't have a head at all, just a virtual camera sitting on top of his neck. Because Outlast has a fully-rendered player body, Miles is always injured through his hands. This has been done in various other games, like the Ethan Winters RE games, where we essentially see through our character's hands. We interact with the game through our character's hands, and so the best way to show a character's injuries are through the hands. That's why halfway through the game, Miles gets a finger or two cut off by the manic Dr Trager. We're forced to put up with staring at his bloodied stump for the rest of the game, due to where the injury is located. So many horror game protagonists lose fingers when you think about it.

Half Life - Oh boy, I get to talk about my favorite game! Half Life is the definition of groundbreaking. Before Half Life, FPS games were all about killing, with very little story. Perhaps you'd get a wall of fluff between episodes, or it would otherwise be explained away in the manual. John Carmack of Doom fame is credited with relegating story in a game to "story in a porn movie, [it's] expected to be there but [it's] not important." In this sense, Half Life acts like a transitory shooter. It retains the speed and weapon-juggling of the 90s, but brings in proper narratives, cinematic sequences, not to mention an unbroken first person narrative and unparalleled immersion for the time. (I'd say that MGS2 is probably more immersive, but that was 2001, so it doesn't count.) Then, after Half Life, Halo made waves on the Xbox, bringing in two-weapon limits, dedicated grenade buttons, and regenerating health. This more tactical way of making games continued well into the 2010s, with various Call of Duty-likes perpetuating the slow and psuedo-realistic approach. However, with modern battle royales becoming faster and with more movement mechanics, a la Apex Legends, it seems we might be going back to the super-fast deathmatch of the 90s, starting the cycle again. Half Life is still a lot of fun to play in 2023, and while the graphics have aged, the art style hasn't. Your brain can still fill in the gaps and determine what things are supposed to represent, and the immersion levels continue this - even if that white polygonal box doesn't look exactly like a hand dryer, it's in a bathroom, and when you interact with it, it produces a loud humming. This, combined with the outstanding NPC AI, makes the world feel truly alive. Characters can comment on smells, enemies can fight each other and eat chunks of flesh off the ground, soldiers will communicate to each other and work together to flush you out, and each weapon has a situational use based on what setpiece you find yourself in. It's just amazing.

Deus Ex - If you couldn't tell by my profile picture, I like Deus Ex quite a bit. It's this gloomy neo-noir conspiracy taking you through a gritty view of the future, where corporations rule with an iron fist, social inequalities are everywhere, and a virus ravages the world. Good thing none of those issues exist in the modern day, right? I kid, but this 2000 video game was surprisingly prophetic. You play as JC Denton, a counter-terrorism agent using various means to uncover the grand conspiracies of the world. It's an immersive sim, one of my favorite genres, where you can upgrade your character and choose various routes to complete missions. Depending on whether you use a lot of force or go for pacifism, the game's endings can change, and various characters can be killed off or spared to determine a unique outcome. It's pretty cool.

#devlog #gamedev

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sassooda · 4 years ago

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Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 36 - No Longer Alone 🔞

w/c - 7,680

“Kokoro really was a fool…I almost feel sorry.” Genghis is in the mood to celebrate as he quietly snickers through the Titer compound, planning to share the news with Getou. He passes through a crowded windowless but well-lit room heading towards the southern bunker. Nearly all of the clansmen and women bow to his presence as he cheerfully ambulates through their earthy corridors, submitting their trust into him. He enjoys the gestured acclaim, knowing full well this position being his was long overdue. After searching over the room joyfully, he becomes momentarily sidetracked as his first turbulent encounter ensues. The young Titer that served Mugoi before appears in front of him, blocking Genghis’s direct path. ‘Now to reform these loose ends…’, he thinks to himself as he assesses the young Titer’s despair. “You there, what is your name?” Genghis sees the hatred in the young man’s face.

“…Itgeltei.”, is all the young man offers while still trying to remain fearless in front of the now most masterful man of the clan. “Itgeltei Baidal.”. His chin-length black hair waves with the wind as his deep brown eyes feign revenge.

Genghis smirks to the spiteful response, understanding that the poor wretch has lost his own mentor and is raging with emotions. “You can come with me now, there is still much work to be done.” He motions for the young Titer to follow him but the single energized stomp in response makes him halt his resumed stance.

“YOU KILLED MASTER KOKORO!” Baidal surges his energy and aims it at Genghis with tear filled eyes. “…and my SISTER!” His shaking limbs continue to quake as he takes a deep breath and prepares to at least injure the newly appointed head before being killed himself. “You have to pa-…”.

Genghis, without lifting a finger, uses his presence to immediately suffocate the young man who is now clear with regret. “I certainly did not kill Mugoi or Okhin, that was the enemy.” The fear pricks its way to the surface as the young Titer now seems to recognize exactly how unmatched he is and this entertains Genghis, “See, I never inherited the ancient techniques but I’m the top dog now for a reason…”, Genghis slowly approaches while Baidal chokes, surely feeling compressed as he opens his mouth to breathe but is unable to suction in any air. “…I have learned other ways to instill my goals.”. After reaching the young Titer, he looks around to all of the surveyors that stand winded with horror. “YOU ALL UNDERSTAND WHO IS IN CHARGE NOW, RIGHT?!”. Genghis darts his eyes back to Baidal who’s face has since turned red and puffed from the lack of oxygen while he continues to struggle. A woman near the door cries, “Yes! We do Master Genghis!”, and all of the Titers before him that are able, drop to the floor to offer an extensive bow. “Alright then!”, Genghis releases the young Titer with a smile and watches him crash to his knees, gasping. Genghis kneels down before him and holds out a hand, “If you’re willing to redirect your hatred to the right place, you can still serve your clan to the upmost, Baidal.”, but he’s met with still resentful eyes and understands that the young man will need time to decide his own fate as his hand is swatted away. “If you cannot however, you serve no purpose at all. Consider my offer.”. Genghis then turns to continue walking to Getou before the young man did something hasty, not wanting a scene to erupt with so many witnesses.

After Genghis leaves that corridor, Baidal hunts the room for any indication that he had supporters on the matter but feels completely alone as everyone looks down or simply continues with their business. ‘He may be powerful but he needs to be stopped.’, Baidal’s frustration peaks as he’s still trying to regain his breath, knowing that Genghis could have crushed him if he wanted to. Beneath his heaving he mutters the words that would have caused him death had they been heard, “He was supposed to stay locked away.”. Only by being Kokoro’s understudy did he become privy to the horrifying information of Genghis’s past and the true reason he was sent to death by the hands of Satoru Gojo to begin with. Baidal knows that there was never any love between himself and Getou, being that Kokoro committed atrocities himself. ‘I have to find allies…’, knowing he may have to outsource beyond his clan in order to have the backing necessary. ‘What does he have planned for Master Getou?’. Baidal thinks to check a few more friends before leaving the compound, his anxieties feeling all too real to ignore.

Genghis is back to his excited mood as he feels the weight of Kokoro’s lack of existence uproot his very soul. ‘Kokoro was a mediocre man and never should have been given this role.’, he resounds internally as he feels that although that wasn’t the exact future he saw, he knew Mugoi was likely to expire at the hands of Fushiguro. “I do admire this Toji’s strength and he will certainly give us another edge until his time comes as well.”. He pretends to be kind as more Titers bow on foot to him as he passes, loving the thrill of being the faux head. The red clay-made walls and ground signify his descent into the compound, “Now we just have to work on Getou with the girl…”. Genghis smiles wider, ‘She’s truly perfect. What she’s capable of…what I’ll have her do…’. Genghis has yet to reveal all of his plans to Getou but will do so when he feels the time is right but not a moment sooner and for good reason. Upon turning the corner towards Getou’s quarters though, he feels the gravitational presence. “Such a grown child…”, but hurriedly runs towards the door with slight apprehension, knowing there were some of the help in there with him.

Getou is furiously releasing his gravity manipulation throughout the room. He’s yelling out but the sound means nothing in particular as he pins weaker Titers that were only there to serve him. “What am I supposed to do with THAT?!”, in pure fury he asks one of the servants as he points to the shattered bowl with water spilled all around it. “She’s…SHE IS DISGUSTING!”. The servants cry out unanimously as his fit continues but Getou purposefully doesn’t kill any of them. He looks to a younger male Titer who is already crying, “You really suggest that I should just accept this SHIT?! She’s tainted!”.

Genghis bursts through the door, “SUGURU! STOP THIS AT ONCE!”, and uses his crippling presence to counter the waves of gravity. They’re no match for Getou’s abilities but they can at least bounce some energy back to him, thus giving his attention to Genghis. “RELEASE THEM!”.

Suguru faces his mentor and reluctantly quells his technique, allowing the four pinned servants to scurry away through the door behind Genghis. “I wasn’t going to hurt them…but I may hurt bird bitch. You cannot SERIOUSLY expect me to want her.”. Getou now sits to the chair beside him and takes out his bun knowing he made a mess of it. ‘At least Fushiguro took action…’.

“What happened in the small number of hours I’ve left you?” Genghis sees the shattered bowl and immediately understands that Getou saw something he didn’t like. He takes in the state of the room, all of the different craters formed about as he nears. ‘We’re lucky this part of the structure didn’t collapse…’. He’s a little irritated.

“I will not have her as my wife.”, Getou huffs. He seethes at the images in his brain that depicted Elska, Naoya and Gojo sharing sexual relations. “She is not suited to be ANYONE’s wife!”. He accidentally snaps his hair band apart while trying to put his hair back up and becomes further infuriated. After grinding his teeth together, he tosses the useless hair tool across the room before running his hands through his long black hair. He sees Genghis nearing him and tries to recollect himself so he doesn’t seem immature. ‘Why the fuck did I have to see that?’.

“What happened little one? What is SO bad that you feel you can justify this tantrum?” Genghis needs his words to cut but not in a way that will dislodge Getou further. He understands that sometimes he just may need a parental figure and is attempting to gratify this part of Suguru.

“She…”, Suguru’s words silence for a moment before continuing, “…she was having sex with Zenin and Gojo…”. His fists clench reflexively as the thought of Gojo enjoying himself, living care free. It wrenches his intestines together. There’s a lack of response from Genghis, so he lowers his voice to exact his reasoning, “She fucks everyone.”, he cackles in annoyance, “Everyone but me that is.”. Getou remembers her glare when he left the room they held her in at the base. “I knew Zenin was oddly territorial with her but I never would’ve guessed this debauchery. He hates Gojo too…so I thought.”. Getou reels over the loss of his cohorts once again as he’s no longer alone but it doesn’t really feel like it.

Genghis knows Suguru is expecting him to be riddled with disgust as well but he’s isn’t. ‘Is he..?’, Genghis is not even upset anymore as he feels that was confirmation of Suguru’s jealousy, whether Getou knows it or not. ‘Maybe there is hope for us after all…’. He lets a few seconds pass to simulate that of someone who cares. Genghis loves Suguru like a son but he also loves his own future as well along with his grandiose plans for their clan. With a small sigh he brings a chair and places it opposite of Getou and sits down. “Look little one, are you sure tha-…”.

“SHE HAD GOJO INSIDE OF HER WHILE SHE WAS GAGGIN ON ZENIN!” Getou almost doesn’t catch himself in time to control the surging energy flowing through him. ‘Gojo… of all people.’.

“Hmmm…”, is all Genghis offers while he thinks of how to diffuse this situation.

“HMMM??!!!” Suguru mocks and then hollers, “What the FUCK kind of response is that?!”. He sees the glint of anger that flashes across his mentor’s eyes and decides to calm down. It’s a matter of respect.

Genghis raises an eyebrow at how perceptive Getou can be at times although he needs to learn to be like that always. “I can see why that would bother you…”, but Getou scoffs as he turns away. “Her nature…it’s solidified but ever changing it would seem. We may not have the time we originally thought.” Suguru looks back to him now as he’s obviously curious as to what that could mean. ‘She’s already creating a small but powerful army.’.

“What is that you know, Master?” Getou’s back to his collected demeanor as he’s eager to understand what could cause Genghis to seem so offhand on the ordeal. He looks around the destroyed room and feels slightly embarrassed, especially if there’s some kind of explanation.

“When she drinks from the hybrid, his curse blood fuels her own. This is what I was trying to elucidate to you before.” Genghis checks to make sure he has Getou’s undivided attention. When he’s satisfied by his pupil practically hanging on the edge of his seat, he continues, “She has awakened to a small degree and with her kind, that means a growing appetite for many things and less inhibiting emotions in exchange.”. Getou’s eyes narrow in response but Genghis proceeds, “When we get her here, you’ll have to sate her needs little one so it’s best you understand now.”. He’s anticipating a rebuttal but it doesn’t arrive, ‘Good, because if you don’t, I will...and that may cause some problems.’.

Getou is still mildly confused but understands enough that he’ll have to feed and fuck her. “I’ve already tried that, it didn’t work.”. His thoughts take to the last time he saw her, while he was working his way in.

“You stabbed her, broke her wings and then forced yourself between her legs… let’s understand the difference here, Suguru…”, Genghis shakes his head as he didn’t want to be so blunt but at the same time, there’s no room for error there, Getou must comprehend that.

“And she called out for Naoya when I did.”, Getou’s patience are being tried at this point. He knows he was wrong in his approach and even with his brutal nature. He also is hesitant to express anything in regards to that scent that provoked him.

Genghis interrupts the pity party, “Because she’s afraid of you Suguru…and rightfully so!”. He softens his eyes for his pupil for just a moment, “I could never imagine expecting any other outcome. I’ve never even thought to do something like that to a woman.”, Genghis lies with complete knack.

Getou exhales heavily and turns his gaze to the shattered bowl, “That doesn’t explain why she’s fucking everyone…”, he loses himself in those same images again and runs his finger along his scarred cheek. His eyes widen as he’s suddenly remembering the aftermath, “Toji attacked them though, I’m guessing Kokoro succeeded?”. He switches his view back to his mentor with inquisitive eyes.

Genghis decides to hold off of the details about Elska and Toji following the incident. ‘She really is getting her fill though…’, but smiles to her ways as he watched them that day, all of it, from afar. He then tilts his head upwards and tries to hold his happiness inside as he delivers Mugoi’s fate, “Kokoro perished by the hands of Fushiguro… and Oda.”.

Upon hearing of Mugoi’s death a small smirk appears initially but then he’s overcome with the fact that he’d always planned on taking out Kokoro himself. “How can he be dead? Isn’t he under the same technique?”. He hopes the bastard can return for more.

Genghis allows his grin to sneak through after seeing Getou’s reaction, knowing they’re both pretty glad the fuckers gone. “Yes well, they didn’t use any techniques to kill him, they just utilized that nature of theirs. If he were killed with a cursed ability, yes, we could have reversed that.” Genghis chuckles lowly, “I told him to be extremely cautious but he ultimately underestimated this Toji gravely. To be fair though, I wasn’t expecting the girl to behave as she did…she killed Okhin viciously as well.”.

Getou catches on to his master’s amusement and it rubs him as odd, “You said the outcome would benefit me…did you know this would happen?”. He’s decided to place that weird display in the back of his mind for the time being. ‘Okhin too?’, Getou barely knew the Titer woman but was aware of her loyalty to himself and their cause and feels regret that she lost her life.

“I did.”. Genghis leans toward being honest about this bit at least. He waits to gauge Getou’s response and becomes eased when he can tell that his knowing won’t be met with hostility. “Mugoi wasn’t a very good man and he had no business leading this clan. His strategies were half-baked and his desires to lead were misplaced.”.

“I never did like him…I actually hated that fucker and owed him for Kechi and Eso...” Getou sighs as there’s yet another thing to be grateful to Elska for. “Serves him right.”. ‘I wonder how she did it?’. Getou ponders on her mysterious existence and wonders what else he may not know about her. He thought he was well informed before but sees that’s not the case at all.

Genghis smiles genuinely as he proceeds the conversation to nourish the seed he’s planted, “So…you were watching her?”. He gives a playful shove to Suguru, “You can’t hide the fact that you’re interested…I can already tell.”.

Getou’s face becomes deadpanned at his mentor’s words. He’s self-conscious about the truth in the statement, not really being sure as to when it happened nor why. He looks back at the shattered bowl, “I was seeing if there were any tactics I could formulate based on their own.”. He feels another light push and it’s clear that Genghis wasn’t buying it. ‘Why is she so important to even him?’. He sighs in frustration, “Yes, ok? I was watching her…although I regret it now.”. His eyes widen during the statement, showing he meant it desperately.

Genghis releases a loud cheer into the room, “ALRIGHT!”. He pats Getou on the shoulder, “This is great little one! You shall have her then!”. He can barely control his pride as he knows this step was imperative to conquer. “We will have to secure her soon before the others reach her to do the same.

Getou wants to ask about the others mentioned but figures it pertains to the clans also aiming for the same goal. He becomes tactical, “I think we should draw them in and crush all of their shaman.”. This time, when preparing her quarters, he would take a note from Naoya and make sure she can at least be impressed by their offer. ‘Would it really make that much of a difference though?’, he’s unsure of what lies ahead because of what’s occurred in the past.

Genghis leans forward with approval, “That is a wise idea but we should bait them first.”, he smiles maliciously, “I think we should take your lover first and give them a location.”.

Getou blushes against his own will and tries to mask it with haste, “Whatever, that’s fine. I need to prepare an area for her.”. Suguru stands up, cloaked in agitation as he worries about what could be wrong with him. ‘Why…am I feeling so…awkward?’.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you only need to prepare another room for yourself.” Genghis can’t believe that he’s having to hold his pupil’s hand through this but laughs to the confusion painted on Suguru’s face, “She’s going to be staying with you.”.

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“Cho, how do you know this? ARE THEY NEARBY?” Naoya knows Choso is also very fine tuned when it comes to sensing other techniques, primarily the Titers for having worked around them for so long. Naoya still is looking around to silently ask everyone to be on their guard.

Choso doesn’t remove the box from his pocket. He keeps his fingers wrapped around it though and tries to figure out a way to communicate that won’t bring them to a disadvantage. His stillness unnerves everyone but Toji tries to calm the room, understanding there’s a purpose for it. Choso decides to try something. After standing, he uses his right hand to point at his pocket and while still holding the box inside of there, he flicks it a few times with his finger, creating sound.

Gojo is the first to catch on and decides to give it a codename, “The bento box!”. He smiles to Choso’s relieved nod and turns to face everyone. “Do you remember the yellow fish delivery we received earlier?”, Toji scrunches his face but then the connection is made. “I believe that Choso’s saying he can tell by the bento box it came in.” Elska now seems to get it as well.

“Baby? When did you eat yellow fish?” Naoya approaches her with a coy smile as the remaining members in the room sigh in frustration, thinking he was too dense to comprehend. Megumi scoffs being out of the loop and apparently feels ashamed of Naoya’s gestures. When within arm’s reach, Naoya snags Elska by the hip and kisses her cheek while whispering, “We will protect you princess.”. He feels her pull away only enough to look into his eyes. He knows she trusts him, it’s written all over her face and nothing could make him happier.

Elska is lost in Naoya’s warm expression until a realization hits her, “Does…does that mean they saw…everything?”. She becomes completely uncomfortable at the thought and welcomes Naoya’s arms as they wrap around her fully this time. While burying her face into his chest, she can feel the bass from his voice as he laughs awkwardly above her. ‘Greeeaaaaat…’.

“Well at least it was worth watching…I can attest to that!”, Gojo’s eyes brighten as he recalls the three of them on the bed. ‘It was…perfection.’. Nanami sends narrow eyes over to him which he can feel instantly and against his rowdier judgement, decides to leave it at that.

Toji scoffs while looking at Gojo, “You’re the fucking worst, you do know that, right?”. He’s never been able to stand Satoru’s need to gloat about everything, especially when it comes to her.

Gojo warps himself behind Elska, “Oh…but she loves it…” and ruts his pelvis into her rear.

Naoya uses his projection technique to pull her away afterward, “You’re too fucking much Gojo, don’t expect that shit to happen again.”. He actually really enjoyed the threesome for the most part but sees that he stoked an already heated fire within Gojo by participating. ‘This guy is not right in the head!’.

“Sati! Why would you do that in front of everyone?!”, She’s not felt Naoya’s technique first hand like that and stumbled with collecting herself after being moved with such speed. ‘Did he seriously just hump me?’.

Nanami yells, “SATORU!”, with absolute disapproval as Megumi scowls heavily beside him.

Choso loses himself in thought after hearing Gojo’s mischievous giggles. ‘Do they know that this connects their energy to us? I can tell when they’re spying…’. He twirls the box within his fingertips in his pocket as he tries to formulate an explanation as to why the Titers left it behind if this was genuine. He looks back over to Toji now, ‘Is he really ok? What did this do to him?’. Choso’s eyes now take to Megumi and his heart sinks knowing that they’ve only just begun their father and son relationship officially, ‘I have to figure this out before it’s too late.’. He still hears the voices of everyone else but doesn’t register that his name is being called. The surging energy from the box also ceases and he quietly states, “I think they’re done for now…”.

Toji sighs, “Thank god, those fucking creeps have nothing better to than to use ourselves against us.”.

Naoya and Elska both relax into each other knowing they can likely move more freely now. Naoya smiles at her but then continues what they were originally talking about. “I’ll get you some sweets baby!”. He now turns to Choso who is still in his own mind, “Cho!”, Naoya is waving at his friend, “Does that sound alright to you?”.

Elska chimes in, “I swear I won’t bite you again!”, she looks around to everyone, “Although I am due for a feed soon…”.

Naoya gasps, “Well I’ll stay too!”. He’s weary of her feeding from Choso for many reasons, his personal ones at the forefront though.

Toji huffs, “I think you two should make yourselves scarce when we come back.”, his vision glaring between Naoya and Gojo. “You two have had enough today.”.

Gojo wants to say something smart to rile Toji up but decides that maybe that wasn’t such a huge demand. He looks to Naoya and whines, “Let Toji feed her tonight…”. He kicks at nothing to display his disappointment but knows that he owes the giant this much at least.

Naoya grabs her hands now and looks down to her with his weak protest, “Baaaby…”, but then sighs as he can understand where Gojo is coming from, “…Ok…but tomorrow you feed from me!”. He smiles gleefully as he secures one of his favorite past times. Of course, he enjoys the feeling her bite surges through him but more than anything else, he loves how much she enjoys drinking from him. It certainly makes him feel needed and with all of the testosterone surrounding her now, he appreciates the affirmations he receives from her, this one especially. ‘If only I had my own fangs…’.

“If she drinks too much of you boy, she’ll get fucking cavities.”. Toji laughs to his own joke though as he meant nothing foul by it, he’s actually surprised he didn’t receive more resistance from either of them on the matter of feeding.

“What are you guys about to do?” Choso now feels he missed something important.

Elska and Gojo chuckle at the fact that Choso indeed tuned them all out moments ago.

“They’re going on a food run while you stay with me, if that’s ok!”. Elska smiles and continues, “You can take a shower too if you want, I won’t leave the room but you’ll still have privacy in there.”. She walks over to the bathroom and pulls out a fresh towel from a neat stack that lays on iron shelving next to the tub.

“And make sure you’re clothed when you leave the bathroom…”, Gojo’s tries to make his tone lighter but he’s serious. “I saw what you’re hiding underneath those clothes, you thick ass stallion!”, and laughs to Choso’s widening eyes.

Choso recalls Gojo complimenting his body before and becomes flustered by the accusations being launched at him and quickly defends himself, “Elska! I promise I wouldn’t try to do anything sexy to you!”. He hears Gojo roar into laughter and anchors his eyebrows in a way that show the silver shaman that he’s been teased enough for one day.

“I would hope not.” Megumi makes his quiet presence known again as he’s only just calmed down after seeing his sensei hump her…and then there’s the feeding. He turns his nose up and hollers while leaving for the door with Nanami, “GIVE HER SOME SPACE.”.

“Doll, I’ll be right back alright?” He grins when she nods in anticipation and he can sense that she’s as eager to feed from him as he is to feed her.

“Umm…I will too, don’t forget that part old man…”, Naoya finally releases his hands from her as he forces himself away and towards the door. “Be right back baby!” He blows her a kiss from the doorway but waits impatiently for Gojo to make his exit.

Gojo now grabs her hands and with a serious face says, “Love, just be careful and wait for Toji. We will back after you have some time.” He smiles, “Don’t bite Choso in case it’s related to that other you ok?” He kisses her on the forehead gently before stepping back and taking in her comfortable and casual appearance while relishing on his recent lush memories of them. He glances to Choso, “If anything happens, make a portal to Naoya but we should be back really soon.

Choso nods and is glad that there was reiteration over him being the source of her nourishment. ‘Gojo is far more intelligent than he typically lets on…’. After everyone leaves the room, the silence engulfs them. “I uhh…I guess I will take a shower now.”, and dutifully heads into the bathroom.

“Wait there’s a trick!” Elska rushes past the door before he can close it in order to reach the faucet. The temperature designated knobs are actually reversed and she didn’t want Choso to fall victim to ignorance’s cruelty. Once adjusted, she stands up tall and smiles, “Now, you’re all set!”.

“I tend to take lengthy showers, please do not be alarmed by this.” Choso feels the steam beginning to take form and is ready to wash the day away. She giggles and says “That’s totally fine, relax a bit.” Before switching on the fan and shutting the door behind her. As he undresses, he folds his new pajamas neatly on the counter, planning to put them back on when he’s finished. For a moment he freezes as this doesn’t make sense, how can he watch her while he bathes? ‘Oh, they were way ahead of me with this one…’. He forms his observer window, focuses it on her and leaves the curtain parted so he can check it from time to time.

Elska isn’t sure why but as soon as the words, “Relax a bit” left her, she felt the urge to do so herself. “Well…he did say he takes long showers…and they’re no longer watching us…”, she walks over to Choso’s unintentional gift and honestly just wants to try it. After grabbing it, she cautiously makes her way back to the bed, dropping her new ace sweatpants to the floor before laying on her back. Her mind brings her back to Naoya and Satoru taking her and becomes flooded with arousal. “That really was…amazing.”. Her nimble fingers press the tiny rubber button located on the bottom of the little pink mouse and jumps with excitement when it turns on. ‘This shouldn’t take much time at all!’, and gleams to its vibrational impact. The thought of Naoya extracting her pheromones and orgasms while Satoru filled her mouth sends a sensation between her thighs before the vibrator ever reached its target. She self consciously listens for any sudden movement in the bathroom, wondering why she was really about to do this right now. ‘I just feel like I need to…’, but is trying to ignore the fact that she’s seen plenty of action for one day, at least normally. Once the silicone bullet reaches her clitoris, her body tenses up by the sensations it sends through her and she quietly gasps with a wide smile.

Choso is rinsing his hair, enjoying the scented products that fall and mix into the water. ‘How does my hair feel this smooth after just shampoo?’, he’s amazed and feeling anew. After applying the thick conditioner, he decides to read the ingredients from the bottle located at the other end of the tub. When he grabs it, he turns to check his observer window to make sure everything is alright. “Oh my…”. His eyes are wide and the shock from what he’s seeing steals his attention thus causing the shampoo bottle to be dropped onto his foot. “OW!”.

Elska hears the commotion and immediately closes her legs for cover. She’s panting lightly as she was already pretty close to being done with this test drive but still calls out, “Chos…Choso? Are you alright in there?!”. She sits up as she listens carefully for a response.

“I uhhh…Yea!! I’m great! Just…dropped something!”. Choso feels his heart pounding through him and when he looks down can see his chest beat along with it. ‘I should’ve just told her the truth!’, he panicked though. He stands at the end of the tub where the water barely touches him as he breathlessly waits for a sign that she’d either stop or continue. ‘Does she not know I’m observing her?’. He watches her settle back into the bed but has failed to notice his instant erection until this point and whispers, “Damnit…”. When she places the mouse back on her sensitive areas, he can see her face twist in pleasure and cannot help himself. Choso begins to stoke his member as his human desires take over and shudders to the wonderful sensations it sends through him. Elska moans quietly but Choso is audibly attached to his window so he hears it. He watches her placement of the toy and is surprised to see that it’s used to for surface features rather than being for inside. He continues to pump his hand, gaining speeding even while the water threatens to stop his motions, moaning himself as he studies the visual before him. “Women…they’re such…beautiful creatures…”, he whispers through his small gasps.

Elska is working towards her climax, intermittently edging herself when she feels she’s too close, not wanting to end the pleasure so soon. She thinks about how Toji always tries to stimulate her with his hands while he works himself into her, causing her toes to curl. ‘Toji and this would be incredible…’, she pictures him with his wings and fangs out, using his mass to pin her against the bed as he thrusts through her. In this fantasy, he would hold the mouse down against her, forcing her to endure the bliss while locking glowing eyes. “Holy…oh…yes…”, she whines out underneath her breath as she feels her moisture gather. She imagines him smugly smirk above her before saying, “Doll, you’re so fucking wet for me.”, but realizes that would be much more of a Satoru thing.

Choso is no longer even bathing by this point but has opened the curtains further so he can still receive the warmth from the water as he continues towards his own relief. Every time her body arches or she whispers confirmation to how good she’s feeling, his hand increases speed by itself. He looks down to see how unbearably hard he is and bites his lip as his vision takes back to his technique. His mind is plaguing him as he doesn’t have a direct desire to sleep with her but she’s always the subject of his sexual thoughts. He imagines himself sitting between her knees, administering the mouse. “Mmmm…”, he groans while thinking of her furrowed brow and flush expression being the product of his placement. His hand grips his girth and he momentarily seethes and hisses to the building rise coursing through him. He whispers her name to his own dismay, feeling that it increased his ability to reach his orgasm. The water falling down his back has become cooler but it doesn’t deter him from this interesting experience.

She is now daydreaming about Satoru’s aggressive behavior. ‘He would most definitely use this mouse as a tool to dominate.’, and the thought of him bending her over while making her hold it to herself almost makes her unravel. He’d say things like, “Awww love, what’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”, and she would have to respond to him before he’d smack her ass…but maybe she would keep quiet on purpose. He’d likely grab her by the throat and raise her up from behind so he could hear her clearly as he spreads her from within. She gasps to this and arches her body again as she nearly lost herself. Her eyes open widely though as she’s sure he would attempt anal next…but she wouldn’t necessarily fight him. ‘If I ever tell him that I actually like it, he would try it all of the time though…’, and the idea of him relentlessly trying to impale her in that manner slightly decreases her arousal.

Choso is all but minutes away from being spent. He’s staring intently into the observer’s window and ignores her change in demeanor. Instead, he’s now wondering about this taste that women provide. He still isn’t sure you’re supposed to lick them there but the probability of it being allowed makes him imagine how he would. The expression on her face is back to be pleasant so maybe if he would take his tongue to the same spot where the mouse is located, he could cause this too. His eyes are closed at this point, while he hastily grips and rhythms with his hand so when she cries out, his imagination runs wild and he imagines inserting himself into her. That was a mistake though because in this moment, he’s releasing his contents all over himself and the tub while he fails to cease his motion.

Naoya’s sweet but domineering nature saved the day. While reliving old memories of when she was his prisoner, she remembers the sexual tension that made her crave him even more. While envisioning them on their sides again, she smiles to the desperation felt that consumed her, making her take him in his sleep. “Oh…Naoyaaaaa…”. It really didn’t matter what he would try with her, Elska was likely to allow him wantonly, she trusts him fully in this realm. In her sexual dream however, he’s given glowing red eyes and golden wings. He would brush her hair aside while rocking his hips while they lay there but he’d also lean down to pierce her neck. “God pleeeeassee…”, she begs the universe to at least be able to simulate what his fangs would feel like. She cries out though in real time and releases a wave of pheromones as her legs tremble, the orgasm following immediately after. She lies there panting, not having removed the mouse from her hand, nor has she budged to change her position. Her eyes take to the little mouse though while she heaves and feels her arousal seeping out, “This was actually a wonderful gift Choso!”. She smiles and feels the cold chills that are result of her thin layer of sweat. She goes to sit herself up but finds she just doesn’t have the energy in this moment. Her eyes dart open as she recalls, “CHOSO! SHIT!”, having temporarily forgotten that he was in the bathroom, only a few feet away. She sits up tensely to gather herself as the door is pushed open. She screams, “DON’T!”. She feels so ridiculous as she knew Toji’s door no longer latched.

Choso heard her scream and although he’s a mess he launches out of the shower. “Elska! What’s wrong?!”.

Toji stands in the doorway first inhaling the scent before noticing Elska’s position and eyes the mouse next her on the bed. The fact that she wasn’t dressed on her lower half clearly gave it away. He feels himself get a little excited but its all but crushed as a wet and naked Choso barrels out of the bathroom door. “What the f…”.

Elska quickly covers herself before Choso has a chance to turn around but she can’t help but stare at him against her better judgement. His body is so refined and built, his lower half just as impressive. She doesn’t feel any desire to experience him but she can still appreciate a good work of art. When their eyes meet, Choso turns beet red and flails his hands in an attempt to shield them from his usually hidden parts. “I thought something was wrong!”.

“The fact that you’re out here butt ass naked is the something that’s wrong buddy…”, Toji glares at the being and huffs. Toji points his finger toward the door and says, “Go get some fucking clothes on! What were you doing in there to still be bathing?!”. A realization hits him and he growls at the possibility that Choso was relieving himself in his shower. “How the fuck were you planning on protecting her if you were in there the entire time?!”, Toji demands an explanation.

Choso looks away from Toji and to the floor, “Well…I was watching her still…I just multitasked.”. He can feel Toji’s presence intensify immensely and wonders if he should have just lied and apologized.

Elska folds over in the bed and curls up in embarrassment. ‘Does he mean…he watched me do that?”, she too mortified to ask or even look at either of them.

Naoya now walks through the door, “CHO! WHAT THE FUCK!?”. He sees Elska hiding in the bed and after seeing his friend’s bareness, freaks out. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”, he runs to Elska who’s actively deflecting any interaction and he assumes the worse. “Baby! What happened?!”, He then sees the pink mouse on the bed and feels his left eye twitch. He snatches it from beside her and charges Choso, “YOU THOUGHT TO USE THIS ON HER?!”. He sees the surprise in Choso’s eyes and even through his anger, realizes that he jumped to conclusions.

Elska understands this is taking a wrong turn so she sits up again and says, “I used it on myself! Choso was just taking a shower and bolted out here when I screamed!”.

Naoya stops now, being only about a foot away from Choso. “Baby, what caused you to scream?”, he now looks at the toy with a raised eyebrow, ‘Could it really be that good?’. Choso’s eyes meet it too and the being blushes further.

“She screamed when I came through the door, boy, calm down.” Toji is now pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation to the endless web of miscommunication that spins between them. He walks over to Naoya and steals the mouse. “You guys need to scram for a few. She needs to feed and I’m tired of there being a god damn peanut gallery.”.

Choso immediately rushes into the bathroom to change as Naoya pouts while walking back to Elska. “Baby, I’m parking right next door and I’ll be back as soon as you are finished.”.

“We actually are switching rooms tonight!” Gojo now strolls in, having listened from the hall. He comprehends everything that just happened, from the dual masturbation to the sad accusations that were pointed to Choso. If he hadn’t stayed behind though Megumi would’ve seen everything before being shooed away and that’s the only thing that bothers him. ‘Toji is going to have to handle that soon…’.

“This is my room you silver fuck, I don’t want to move.”, Toji defends his messy territory that has suffered from the multiple people using it.

Elska is further jolted by Satoru’s sudden appearance but calmly asks, “What are you talking about Sati?”. She’s now quickly donning her ace pants while trying her best to make it seem like she’s no longer bothered by what may have taken place with Choso. ‘I’m just glad that topic got skipped over…’.

“We’re going to a bigger room, with a bigger bed.” Gojo winks at her as he’s still bent on proving to her that the additional company can be worked with. “But you two can still feed here, I’ll have Naoya and Choso help me set everything up!”. His eyes take to Toji, “Surely you can understand why this room’s defenses are no longer suitable…”. He glances to Elska and brings his palms up to the situation they’re in with an expression that says, “Think about it.”.

“I swear if it’s poorly designed, I’m going to snap. Color scheme and layout is everything Gojo…”, Naoya rolls his eyes as he’s really not in the position to refuse lodging but wishes he didn’t have to share everything with his cousin and him.

Toji howls, “You fucking broke the door in the first place you cunt!”. He never knows how far the silver shaman will go but is slowly wondering if there are any boundaries at all. Becoming further irritated, he starts to manually push everyone towards hall. “Get the fuck out!”. Naoya is still protesting to being forced to leave even as Toji shuts the door in his face, hearing his whining through the wood. “Jesus Christ…they’re such fucking handful…”.

Elska giggles to Toji’s vexation but sits on her knees as the large man returns toward her, sitting on the bed.

Naoya is still on the other side of the door, “Choso is in there you old fart!”.

Toji’s eyes narrow to the bathroom but before he can say anything, Choso quickly races out with soaking hair and practically runs to the door leading to the hallway. He now sighs and slouches over on the edge of the bed, “Doll…sometimes it’s so much to navigate through…”, he looks to her, “…are you not overwhelmed by all of this?”. His hand finds it’s way to her cheek after he orients his body more towards her. They’re eyes respond to each other, him not knowing who’s began glowing first.

“It is…a lot…”. She admits while nuzzling into his hand. “…but look at how you three loners are no longer alone.”, she means it and smiles genuinely as that part does lift her heart. She watches Toji scoot back onto the bed but to his knees and her teeth peer through her lips as she gathers he’s getting straight to it. With slow motion, she crawls over top of him until she’s perfectly seated in his lap and his arms are securing her body against him. Looking down from now overhead, she chuckles, “Just like our first time…”, and brushes his hair from his face as she happily takes in the details of his rugged features. “I’m really sorry about earlier Toji…I really wasn’t expecting Sati to take us away like that. I really wasn’t expecting any of it actually.”.

Toji can sense her guilt and feels like he should address his prior purpose. “Doll, I was just worried Gojo was taking things too far…like before. I didn’t trust that he would have your best interest at heart which is why I was so angry.”. He lifts his chin so he can tuck her head underneath it while holding her, “I am with you no matter what, never forget that.”. Toji closes his eyes as he feels her relax and cackles, “Naoya already said he wasn’t going to do that again but I feel like Gojo will still try.”. He pulls her away and bends his neck to the side to give her full access with a smile.

“You’re too good for me, Toji…”, she laments while eyeing his neck. Instead of immediately biting him though she turns his head back towards her for a deep and passionate meeting of the lips. He responds by send his tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper as she grips his sleek black hair with her right hand while holding his throat with her left, not even meaning to. Both of their fangs form as soon as he breaks their lustrous kiss and he again positions his head to the side as she lowers her own. She can hear him groan as her teeth skip across the skin of his neck and right as she’s about to puncture him, Satoru’s presence can be felt.

“LOVE WAIT!” He runs over to the bed as Elska didn’t seem to even flinch. “Choso made a valid point!”, Toji’s glowing eyes finally meet his so he continues, “If Toji has Titer energy in him, this is about to be another fucking catastrophe!”.

Toji swiftly blocks Elska from his neck and rolls over so she’s pinned to the bed, being startled by her reaction.

Next Chapter (37) >>

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Tagging : @angelofthorr

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dontcare77ghj · 5 years ago

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Bedside Manner

Natasha x reader x Wanda x Pepper

Tony had renovated an entire floor of the Tower into a medical wing out of necessity. He'd employed an array of doctors to be on standby because he had to. Made sure there were enough medical treatments for enhanced and non-enhanced individuals alike.

Tony did all this because the Avengers were a bunch of clumsy fools.

Those were Tony's words whenever someone asked him to describe the team.

Natasha would usually cut in and add that he was apart of that statement, which would generally cause a small argument between the two.

You and Pepper would fondly roll your eyes at the two before Pepper would change the topic.

If you wanted to be honest, the four of you spent too much time in the medical wing for your liking.

For Natasha and Wanda, it was an occupational hazard. The two were Avengers. They defended the Earth against aliens, and assholes too injuries were a part of the job.

You had also been put into the medical wing a handful of times. Not because you were an Avenger, no, you were a civilian, but because you were just a klutz in general. Something your partners found very endearing to your embarrassment.

Pepper was the only one in your relationship that didn't find herself in a hospital bed every other weekend. The woman could be hopping a marathon in ten-inch heels and not so much as falter.

Waking up in the medical wing, in a bed or by someone's bedside, became a regular occurrence in your relationship, much to Pepper's horror.

"Knock, knock." You rapped on Pepper's door. "I had an appointment with my favorite CEO." You smirked, leaning in the doorway.

"Sweetheart, I didn't know you were coming." Pepper smiled, looking up from her work.

"I wanted to surprise you." You said, entering and closing the door behind you. "I also come bearing gifts." You added, holding up a greasy paper bag.

"Do I smell fries?" Pepper asked, taking it out of your hands. "Oh, have I ever told you how much I love you?" Pepper groaned before kissing your cheek.

"Once or twice." You smirked, taking a seat across from her. "I thought I should feed you before you waste away."

"Good call." Pepper nodded. "I might have to work through dinner, thought I was going to have to skip lunch too." She said, munching on the given fries.

You sat with Pepper talking about your days as she ate and continued filling out paperwork.

"Miss Potts, Miss L/N, Dr. Banner has asked me to alert you that Miss Maximoff has been admitted to the infirmary floor."

"Ow!" Wanda whined, pulling her wrist into her chest.

"Yep. That's a sprained wrist, alright." Bruce said, moving to pick up a roll of bandages. "A pretty nasty sprain too."

After FRIDAY alerted you to your needed presence, you and Pepper had raced up to the infirmary to see Natasha waiting by Wanda's bedside.

"How did you sprain your wrist?" Pepper sighed. "Nat left you alone for ten minutes.

"A lot of things can happen in ten minutes." Wanda protested.

"Not wrong," Natasha smirked, squeezing your thigh.

"Nat!" You gasped, pushing her hand off your thigh. "Jesus!" You exclaimed, cheeks turning red as Natasha cackled.

"Can the two of you behave for five minutes?" Pepper sighed. "We're in the infirmary, and Bruce is right there."

"I didn't even do anything." You protested.

"Wanda, how did you sprain your wrist?" Pepper asked again.

"I was practicing using my powers," Wanda mumbled as Bruce wrapped her wrist. "I lost concentration, and a bookend hit my wrist." She admitted. "Please don't laugh."

"No-one's laughing." You assured her. "Sometimes, things just happen, and you get hurt."

"Y/N would know that the best," Natasha commented, receiving Pepper's elbow to the ribs. "Ow."

"Everyone has clumsy moments." You said. "It doesn't mean we're going to think any less of you if you accidentally injure yourself."

"Like the time Y/N walked into a door," Natasha smirked.

"Okay, you know what, Romanoff?"

"Relax, we still love you despite how clumsy you are," Natasha said, throwing her arm around your shoulders. "Trust me, Wand, it doesn't matter how clumsy you are, you'll never be worse than Y/N."

"How badly is she hurt?" Pepper asked as she rushed into the waiting bay.

"We don't know yet. Cho is still checking her over." You said as you and Wanda stood.

"What happened? Are the two of you okay?" Pepper questioned, pulling the two of you into embraces.

"We're fine," Wanda assured her. "Nat pushed Steve out of the way and got hit. We had to force him to go to the debrief instead of waiting with us."

"God. I hate the three of you. You're going to make me go grey before I hit my prime." She sighed, sinking in a chair.

"You love us." You reminded her, taking a seat beside her.

"I do. I won't deny that." Pepper said, taking one of yours and Wanda's hands and squeezing them tightly.

A door snapped open, causing the three of you to turn quickly. Cho came out, standing in the doorway as you all jumped to your feet.

"How is she?" Wanda asked outright.

"Natasha's okay. She has some bruised ribs and, judging from the bump on her head, we're assuming a concussion as well, but we think she'll be just fine." Cho told you, holding the door open.

"Assume?" You asked. "What do you mean, you assume she has a concussion?"

"Natasha hasn't woken up yet." Cho sighed, leading the three of you to Natasha's bedside.

Natasha was plugged into several IV's and to a heart rate monitor. She looked so peaceful resting in the white bed, but it did nothing to quell your anxieties.

"But that doesn't mean anything bad." Cho quickly added as Pepper and Wanda sat beside the sleeping redhead. "All my scans indicate there to be no brain trauma or any similar issues. The worst injury is a possible concussion. I'll give the three of you some space." She said before leaving.

"I'm gonna kill her if she ever does anything like that again." You sighed, sitting beside Wanda.

"Get in line," Pepper said, pulling out her phone. "I'm ordering her favorite chocolates."

"The Russian or German ones?" Wanda asked.

"Would it be overdoing it if I got both?"

"Get both. You get hungry after a concussion, trust me." You said.

"Fair point." Pepper nodded.

"I'll order us some dinner," Wanda said, pulling out her own phone. "We could be waiting for a while."

Natasha woke up two hours later. Her concussion was apparent from the second she woke up, but she did appreciate the company and the chocolates.

You hated days like today. All three of your partners were out and busy while you were at home with nothing to do.

Natasha and Wanda had left at the crack of dawn, so you hadn't seen them since the night before, and Pepper had left at seven before breakfast.

It was only noon, and the day was dragging, so you decided to busy yourself with tedious household chores.

Laundry was next up on your list. The four of you usually sent all your clothing out for laundering, but you needed something to do.

You had just overloaded a tall basket and were making your way down the stairs when it happened. A shirt fell out from the basket at the wrong time, and you stepped on it.

The basket flew from your hands as you slipped down the long flight of stairs. You were out before you hit the bottom of the staircase.

Non-reader POV

"One of us needs to inform Steve the war ended. He doesn't need to be drill Sargent anymore." Wanda muttered, drying off her hair.

"I get where he's coming from, we do need to be a team, but I agree with you," Natasha said, packing up her duffle.

Steve had demanded everyone arrive at the compound at dawn for training exercises. He'd spent the next seven hours forcing everyone into team, partner, and solo training simulations until everyone was feeling the hurt.

"I can't wait to go back to bed." Wanda sighed. "Maybe we can coerce Y/N to join us."

"That does sound nice." Natasha smiled. Natasha was pulling her hair into a ponytail when her phone rang shrilly. "Go for Romanoff."

"Agent Romanoff." Cho greeted. "I'm required to inform you that Y/N is in an infirmary bed. Again."

"What happened?" Natasha asked, gaining Wanda's attention.

"Y/N had a fall and has broken her leg," Cho informed Natasha. "It's a minor fracture, the bone didn't pierce the skin, but she will be in a cast for at least six weeks. And I'd like to keep her here overnight."

"Have you called Pepper yet?"

"No, I haven't been able to reach Miss Potts. My call went to voicemail."

"Wanda and I will be right there," Natasha said before hanging up. "Y/N broke her leg. Call Pepper let her know it's a code pink."

Reader POV

"Hi there, got yourself into a bit of a mess have we, sweetheart?" Wanda asked as she entered with Natasha on her heels.

"Please save the mocking until my next dose of pain blockers." You begged, leaning against your pillow.

"No-one is going to mock you," Wanda said as she and Natasha took seats beside you.

"Yet. No-one is going to mock you yet." Natasha smirked. "Because if it were anyone else, this is kinda funny."

"I hate this." You groaned. "Cho said I can't even go home tonight. Last time I ever try to do the laundry."

"It was a sweet thought, dorogoy," Natasha said, taking your hand. "But from now on, let's just send laundry out."

"Jesus Christ, I'm going to kill one of you these days," Pepper said as she rushed in. "Are you okay?" She asked, pulling you into a hug.

"I'm fine, Pep. A little bruised, a little broken, but I'm fine." You assured her.

"We can all see your leg, Y/N," Wanda said, tapping on the cast. "Cho says you're gonna be in it for six-eight weeks."

"Which means bed rest," Natasha told you.

"Lots and lots of bed rest." Pepper agreed.

"When she wakes up, she'll need to be on bed rest for at least a week," Cho explained, leading you, Natasha and Wanda forward. "That means no strenuous activity in the slightest. I don't even want her reaching for her tablet."

"No work. Got it." Wanda nodded.

"She can try walking a few steps every day to avoid pneumonia. No baths for two weeks, showers are okay, but she has to pat the area dry. Now, full recovery after a surgery like this is about four weeks, but Pepper's a fighter, so it could be three."

"Is there anything else we should know?" You asked as you all entered Pepper's room.

"I think I've covered all the bases. When Pepper wakes up, make sure she drinks some water, and then FRIDAY will call me down to check her over." Cho told you before leaving you all alone with Pepper.

"God, she talks about us giving her grey hairs, I think I just lost a decade off my life span." Natasha sighed, collapsing heavily onto a chair.

"I'm waiting for my heart attack to kick in." You agreed, sitting on the arm of Natasha's chair.

Earlier that day, Pepper's appendix had burst. The four of you had been having breakfast when it exploded, and Pepper collapsed to the ground in pain.

Natasha had called Bruce and Cho while you and Wanda set about trying to help Pepper. Before you could actually process what was happening around you, Pepper had been whisked away to the med bay, and the three of you were in the waiting bay.

"She's going to feel like shit when she wakes up," Wanda commented, putting another pillow behind the woman's head.

"That is an understatement." Natasha snorted. "Thank God Cho's got her hooked up to the good stuff."

You, Wanda, and Natasha sat in Pepper's room, quietly talking, for three hours before Pepper began waking up.

"Hi, hon." You smiled, taking one of her hands. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” She groaned, turning her head towards you. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being in the medical bay?”

“Don’t think you have, sweetheart.” Wanda smiled.

“Well I hate it.” Pepper said firmly. “No more, we’re all banned from being in here from now on.”

“You’re really out of it, aren’t you, kisa?” Natasha asked, pushing hair off her face.

“I love you though. I love all of you.” Pepper added, as though she hadn’t heard Natasha. “Even if you all give me grey hairs.”

“We love you too, Pep.” You told her, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “Despite you just giving us a heart attack.”

The four of you spent more time in the med bay than any of you wanted, it was almost a second home, but there was one good thing that came out of your time in the infirmary. The four of you all got to work on your bedside manner.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @alissaginger @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore

Natasha Romanoff Taglist

@natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @ohfuckno

All women

@imnotasuperhero

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

Text

Smoke, Flasks, And Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 3

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!

Chapter 2 Link!

Summary: MK starts to realize things are a bit too familiar right now, an unspoken event is revealed, and someone else realizes other things. There is a lot to unpack.

Warnings: Mild violence and smoking at the tail end.

Chapter 3: Big Words Traveler, But Can You Back Them Up

Something felt... off. That's the only way MK could describe it. Off.

It reminded him of the Calabash when he thought about it, but was it even possible? When Jin and Yin had trapped him in that weird mechanical gourd thing they had tried to make everything perfect, barring those odd earthquakes and the glitches that his mind made excuses for ignoring at the time. Really, they were actually pretty bad at their scheme and he should have picked up on it a lot sooner. This time nothing felt perfect, however, everything felt... mostly normal.

The Monkey King kicked his butt in scheduled training and then lost matches in Monkey Mech and refused to stop until he had best out of 15. Mei and Red Son seemed to be acting like normal. No earthquakes. No glitches.

But his time in the Calabash had made him more observant of his surroundings and his mistake with Macaque had made him less trusting. The fact the weather station called for rain and it had not rained? That was just odd enough to catch his attention when the weather station hadn't messed up a forecast without someone attacking it or really messing something up, something that always got local news alerts sent to their phones and would have had Mei making fun of the poor sap who messed up by now, in the entire time he had a phone.

Something didn’t just feel off. Something was off. And just in case he was right he needed to play his cards carefully. Do something that wouldn’t raise suspicion.

“Hey, Monkey King?” He smiled, knowing that his expression was just fake enough that if the other were real he would call it in an instant. He would raise his eyebrow or ask him what was up or ask him what the look was for. “We have any snacks?”

“Yeah, bud, coming right up!” He just... smiled. Stood. Walked into the kitchen.

This was not The Great Sage Equal To Heaven.

This was not his mentor.

Well... Shit.

----------

“Wait, back up,” Mei turned from where she sat at the boat wheel. “What does that even mean?”

MK had gotten her to stop before they were nearly back to the City, feeling bad they stopped in such a poor spot for Red Son but determined to talk when they were seemingly alone. He’d played along and only grown more certain in his deduction that the person they were with was not the Monkey King. The more he paid attention the more certain he was that they weren’t on Flower Fruit Mountain either.

The mountain always smelled of four things. Flowers, peaches, dirt, and the slightest undertone of molten rock and ash from close by the Flaming Mountains. The more he tried to pick up the normal scents that would hit him they just seemed... muted, somehow. Like smelling them through a mask or like they were artificial. The rock and ash was nowhere to be found at all.

And there was more. He tried so hard to remember how he got to the mountain. Logically he knew they took a boat, they had to do that. There was a boat on the shore. But that was the first thing he remembered seeing. He could not remember the boat ride over, could not remember the walk to where they docked the boat at all, could barely remember anything past leaving Pigsy’s Noodles at all. Gaps in his memory were not an every day occurrence for him (despite Pigsy teasing him about forgetting to do his job, that was not the same thing).

The only things he knew for certain were real were Mei and Red Son. He’d almost let his anxiety get the better of him, memories of summoning monster trees with his stress being the thing that made him focus long enough to test the waters.

He knew that burying his face in their hair and smelling them was weird as hell, even given their close relationship that was pushing it way too far in comfort, but given scent was the most telling sense giving him pause he had to try once Monkey King was distracted. If it had been any other situation Mei and Red Son’s disturbed and confused faces (and the muffled “what the fuck dude” from Mei) would have been hilarious, but when he could clearly smell Mei’s tea tree shampoo mixed in with the ever present scent her bike’s motor oil he was certain she was real. He was almost certain when Red tensed up and flushed when he repeated the action, but the scent of slight burning and his overly expensive coconut oil and jasmine shampoo cemented the fact he was real as well.

He’d make up for making them uncomfortable after all this was over.

“Exactly what I said, that wasn’t Monkey King,” MK repeated, looking over the horizon at the city-scape. Still no rain. No clouds. It was half an hour until sundown. “I don’t... this is going to sound crazy... but I don’t think this is real.”

His companions looked at each other in clear concern and MK knew he would finally have to come clean. “MK, wh-”

“There’s something I never told any of you. Not even Monkey King. Just... promise you’ll listen to me?”

----------

When he finished recounting the long ago misadventure he had in Jin and Yin’s Calabash he couldn’t look Mei and Red Son in their eyes. Despite knowing he probably shouldn’t he felt guilty for keeping something that important a secret.

“Oh MK... That’s why you were so preoccupied with us not being perfect,” Mei said softly, standing to envelop her friend in a sudden hug that barely shook the boat. “I’m sorry for losing my cool with you back then.I should have known something was weird when you said that.”

A shaky breathe MK didn’t know he was holding escaped, grateful that they seemed to believe him immediately.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” MK pulled away, giving Mei an awkward smile. Red Son had moved closer, and he shot him a smile as well when he placed a hand on his shoulder. “I should have told everyone when it happened, I just... I felt..” He trailed off, looking at the rainless city again. “We can unpack that later, right now we need to see if we’re really in another Calabash or if it’s something similar. If it is Jin and Yin again they’ve really stepped up their game.”

“I don’t think so...” Red Son said thoughtfully. He bit the end of his thumb nail, pacing the boat slowly in thought. “They seemed more preoccupied with just... having fun almost, last time. They didn’t seem to have an endgame past ‘capture the Monkie Kid’. What’s the end game? Why capture all three of us?”

“Yeah...” MK sighed, looking around carefully. “I dunno.. come to think of it, it all just feels different. This time it’s a lot closer and that is really scary if I’m being honest,” MK shuddered, not comfortable with how much better it was if he was really correct. “But it isn’t 100% accurate. Everything smells dull and Monkey King wasn’t picking up on things he normally would have.”

“Is that why you smelled o-”

“Unpacking later!”

“Why don’t we do what you did to get out last time?” Red Son interrupted, looking hopeful that he had solved the problem already. “We just have to find your staff.”

“Yeah that... that’s another problem...” MK bit his lip and held his hand up to his ear. The glow that lit from it illuminated the dawning horror on his friend’s faces as the staff materialized in his hand. They both seemed to regret not watching MK train that day when they realized what this meant. “That... may not work this time.”

----------

“You’re bleedin’ delusional!” The demon couldn’t help but groan out, pacing wildly in growing frustration. Before them both was a set of screens, watching the display of the trio’s conversation. The entire room looked like something right out of one of those American spy thrillers they’d seen, computers and monitors hooked up and showing a multitude of views. “I told you, you can’t just throw that many people in at once! It doesn’t matter how improved it is, it messes up, confuses the simulation! And-and you let ‘im keep the bloody staff! He’s-”

“Not getting out any time soon,” the other demon, seated comfortably in the only chair in the room, soothed. Their words were like poisoned honey and the first demon grimaced. How they let themselves be taken in by these words... they would never forgive themselves now, not after all of this. Not after what happened to- “Patience is what you and your brother lacked the first time. They don’t need to believe it, they just need to stay in it. Come now, you need to... relax.”

The first demon, the smaller demon, backed a step away as the seated one sat up straighter. They weren’t fast enough to get away from the clawed hand that gripped their throat, cutting off their air supply and pulling them far too close to the other’s face. No fight was given, they knew what would happen if they tried, and watched anxiously as the seated demon raised their forearm long smoking pipe to their lips to take a long drag on whatever foul concoction they had in it.

“Just rest Yin.” Their open mouth revealed colored smoke, sickeningly sweet and fruity smelling, swirling around inside before they loosened the grip on his throat to blow it directly into his face as he took a hasty breath of oxygen. "Perhaps you'll be more patient after a nice long nap."

The blue demon coughed when the other finally let him go, breathing deeply in the hopes he didn’t inhale as much smoke as he feared he did. As he tipped backward onto the ground he knew that was a fruitless thought. Now he laid on the ground with his head fuzzy and gaze filled with the equally unconscious visage of his elder brother.

The Gold and Silver demons... had really messed up...

#some of you guessed the where #can you guess the who now?#well the other who anyway #smoking is bad kids don't do it #mk #Qi Xiaotian #mei #long xiaojiao #red son #mystery character #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #jin and yin #fanfic #fanfiction #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #sfaut #side note: mei 100% should not be driving that boat

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thepetulantpen · 4 years ago

Text

(More danganronpa stuff! I meant to post this like two weeks ago, but school’s been rough. Another Kazuichi/Hajime fic based on something that’s been in my ideas folder for ages: Kazuichi makes Komaeda’s hand, post dr2. Enjoy!)

“I’m only doing this for you.”

Kazuichi glares, hoping it’ll make him look more serious, but Hajime only looks relieved. It hurts to know Hajime had been expecting him to say no, but he can’t blame him, given the circumstances.

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ll owe me one.” This seems to have no effect, so Kazuichi adds, “I’m serious! I should be compensated for going anywhere near that creep.”

Hajime fidgets, hand coming up to fuss with hair that’s no longer there. It’s cut even shorter than it was in the simulation; apparently, he was a little hasty in getting rid of Izuru’s style. It was one of the first things he did when they woke up- Kazuichi remembers watching him, and seeing a bit of himself in the impulsivity.

These days, Hajime looks like he’s always towing the line, wanting to be supportive but afraid to be too defensive. Kazuichi knows he's starting to feel like something of a stranger, seeing their simulated friendships as inferior to the history the rest of them share. Not to mention the guilt at his role in… everything, but that's not exactly exclusive to Hajime.

His expression wavers, before Hajime visibly settles on, “He’s not so bad.”

It’s somehow both an understatement and overstatement- Nagito just is, a person difficult to quantify. Beyond crazy, that is.

Memory is unreliable nowadays, a jumbled mess of school friends, fellow supervillains, and bits of code on a computer simulated island. The lines feel blurred, relief at seeing his close friends alive bleeding into horror at what they’ve done. Their killing game, too, feels fresh. He can’t help but see Nagito’s body when he closes his eyes, or feel the flash of heat from the bomb. The anger, and the sadness, is irrational- which only makes it harder to process.

Kazuichi doesn’t comment on any of that, distracting himself by turning to his work table. It’s newly set up by the Foundation, not quite lived in yet. Not as messy as he likes it.

“I’ll need some measurements, but I can get started.” He grimaces at the thought, having not even considered it when he agreed to this. “You’ll get that, right?”

Hajime smiles, almost laughs at Kazuichi’s expression, but nods. “Yeah, I got it.”

The thought of Hajime holding Nagito’s hand, carefully measuring, crosses his mind and he has to shake his head to clear it. It’s a stupid thing to be jealous of- Nagito is missing a damn hand. Of all the gruesome truths they’ve uncovered, of course there’s one that’ll give Nagito and Hajime an opportunity to hold hands.

Hajime is still hovering in the doorway, something obviously on his mind aside from Nagito. Normally, this is Kazuichi’s place to prompt him, get him to spill whatever it is. As competent as Hajime likes to pretend he is- freaky Izuru powers or otherwise- he’s always been better at getting other people to talk.

It’s different now- they’ve got a lot on their plates, more than some repressed childhood trauma that’s appropriate to share on a beach. He’s drawing up schematics for his friend’s hand, and he’s not sure he can handle anything heavy on top of that.

He turns to Hajime, anyway. If something’s bothering him, it’s better if they can both share that weight. “What’s up? You in the market for more shoddy prosthetics?”

“I don’t think you could make anything shoddy if you tried.” He says it offhandedly, without thinking. The confidence in his voice is enough to make Kazuichi pause, but he’s spared having to react as Hajime continues, “Thank you, really. You’re… a good friend, Kazuichi.”

The unwitting rejection stings, but he raises his hand for a fist bump. “Of course, man. Whatever you need, alright?”

Hajime nods, a mirthless smirk on his face. It’s stretched too thin, like him. Kazuichi doesn’t know if he’s seen him sit down in the last week- always between righting one wrong and another. Chasing down the shadows of a person he never chose to be.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It’s disproportionately serious, betraying Hajime’s exhaustion. Kazuichi gestures, silently, for him to sit in one of the extra chairs, an excuse and invitation to rest until someone comes to find him. He takes it, grateful, and scoots it to sit right beside Kazuichi.

Their shoulders brush and Hajime doesn’t flinch away.

Kazuichi tries to keep his eyes on the parts, tries not move too much as Hajime leans against him. He tries not to let it mean anything when Hajime starts reaching for tools before he can, passing him exactly what he needs. Certainly doesn’t think about what it means when Hajime starts to doze off- and focuses muttering his response, never mind that Hajime stopped talking an hour ago.

“Without my brilliance? I guess you’d be collectively short of one hand.”

…

A hand, compared to everything else he’s made, is not a complicated ask. It barely takes a week, and that’s only because he tries to make it perfect. He must spend hours in testing, fine-tuning movement and searching for flaws long after he knows there aren’t any.

Not because he cares or anything- only so he doesn’t have to deal with it again if it breaks.

The procedure to attach it is surprisingly simple; Mikan takes care of it, leaving Kazuichi to wait outside the room. Hajime’s supposed to be here, too, but he’s late- called away for a Foundation summons, which manages to be less appealing than what Kazuichi is doing now.

When it’s done, Mikan leaves, scurrying out with her head ducked down. She doesn’t address Kazuichi, which isn’t particularly abnormal. They’re all dealing with... this in different ways.

Inside, Nagito is sitting in a chair, watching, nearly transfixed, as the hand responds to him, twisting and flexing. Kazuichi is tempted to just leave now- skip this interaction that he’s been dreading for days- but he doesn’t. Weirdo or not, Nagito doesn’t deserve to be walked out on.

He settles in the chair beside Nagito, gesturing to the hand. “I’ve got to show you how to take care of it. Maintenance, or whatever.”

“Ah,” Nagito smiles- a normal smile, by his standards, “I’m honored.”

Good to see coming out of the simulation didn’t fuck him up too much- this is about par for the course. Kazuichi just nods and gets to work, glancing up to make sure Nagito understands what he’s saying, more or less. Nagito still apologizes too much, which becomes an obstacle every time Kazuichi has to correct him. It turns explaining the mechanics of the hand, which parts need adjusting and which need regular replacements, into a grueling process.

He really is an air-head, when you get right down to it. Past all of the hope stuff, past all of the luck, he’s a regular guy. He’s not even so painfully insecure, in his best moments.

It’s almost easy to see why Hajime likes him so much.

At times like this, it feels like it did in school, simple friendships with no despair-laced strings attached. Hajime not being a part of that equation is a strange inconsistency. The thought that he never properly met Hajime- just Hajime, not Izuru or a computer’s impression of him- makes his head hurt.

“It’s good to see you and Hajime are still getting along,” Nagito says, apropos of nothing, “You spent a lot of time together, on the island. I know he enjoys your company.”

He sounds oddly deliberate, not like the steady stream of nonsense that Kazuichi tends to filter out. It cuts through the haze of his half-concentration on the conversation. “Huh? Yeah, I mean, of course.”

Nagito stares at him, dull grey eyes unyielding, before he smiles, again. “This hand was a favor for Hajime, wasn’t it? I’m sure he appreciated that.”

He sounds almost nagging this time, like he’s trying to get at something in particular, but it’s the words that catch Kazuichi’s attention. Kazuichi looks up sharply from where he’d been checking the spare parts, now labeled and boxed up.

“It wasn’t just for Hajime, you know.” Kazuichi rubs the back of his neck, trying not to cringe. “I wouldn’t leave you without a hand.”

“I wasn’t doubting your goodwill.” He waves his hand- the real one- dismissively. “Truly, I look up to you. Your devotion to Hajime-”

“It’s not that,” Kazuichi talks quickly, as Nagito’s face starts to fall, “We’re friends. After everything we’ve been through- you think I wouldn’t help?”

Kazuichi bites his lip, half to keep himself from saying anything else. He’s not a perfect conversationalist, but he never imagined he’d outpace Nagito in making a conversation awkward. He shouldn’t have stuck around. Nagito could’ve figured out how to adjust the grip himself, couldn’t he?

“Oh,” Nagito pauses, genuinely surprised, and stops short of whatever else he was going to say, “in that case, I’m lucky to have such incredible friends.”

The word sounds strange coming from Nagito- too hesitant, like he’s only trying it out. It’s not the first time they’ve called each other friends, but it’s the first time after the world ended; which, even for Nagito, makes a significant difference.

“We’re all here for you. For each other.”

Kazuichi winces, but it has the desired effect of making Nagito smile. Though it doesn’t look like he entirely believes Kazuichi, the expression a little forced, he figures it’s the best they can hope for.

“Right,” Kazuichi stands, abruptly, and makes for the door, “I’d better get going.”

“Wait, Kazuichi-“

He yanks it open before Nagito can finish and finds, standing in the doorway with his hand half-raised to knock, Hajime. He’s got a knowing look on his face, barely concealing a smile.

“Making friends?”

Kazuichi scowls, trying to look as threatening as he can- which is to say, not very. “Not a word.”

Hajime brushes it off easily, switching places with Kazuichi to sit with Nagito. He relaxes when he does, tension disappearing from his shoulders as Nagito waves to him with his new hand, metal creaking softly.

“Sorry I was late. Makoto is finalizing some of the details and- it doesn’t matter. How are you feeling?”

“I’m great.” Nagito looks like he means it, lighting up at the sight of Hajime. “Kazuichi’s been great company. I see why you like him so much.”

Kazuichi steps back, getting the impression he’s no longer a part of this conversation. He keeps his head down and pretends not to notice as Hajime laughs at something Nagito says- too quiet to hear from the doorway. Hajime looks up as he leaves, but Kazuichi only gives a brief wave, leaving them to their own devices.

It feels vaguely like being left behind, even if he’s the one walking out.

…

It’s a few days later, on the beach, when he dares see either of them again.

He refuses to admit that he’s avoiding anyone- he only happens to not run into them. It just so happens that he spends the majority of his days locked in his lab, with a Do Not Disturb sign up, listening to the sound of disappointed footsteps approaching, pausing, and leaving.

And, just once, the click of Nagito’s heeled shoes and an extended moment of hesitation- the shadow remaining at his door for a minute, at least- before it, too, leaves.

It’s not jealously. It’s just... weird, being around people he calls friend. Even after all this time, he feels like he can’t quite get it right.

Especially with Hajime. For multiple reasons.

He’s here now, despite that, because if he doesn’t leave the lab, he thinks Hajime might send in rescue parties after him. It should be embarrassing that he’s partially hidden behind a palm tree, creepily watching Hajime and Nagito from a distance, but it’s not the weirdest thing he’s done, even excluding his time corrupted by despair- hell, even excluding all of their time in the killing game.

Kazuichi smiles softly as he watches them, Hajime’s grin bright and Nagito looking less miserable than usual. The shadows they all carry dissipate in the steady sunlight, the rock of waves suspending them in a limbo on this island, far from where the rest of the world can reach them.

Nagito says something Kazuichi doesn’t catch that makes Hajime frown, and he waves his hand- the new, metal one- in Hajime’s face, clearly teasing. “I know you do.”

“Nagito,” Hajime is laughing as he tries to catch Nagito’s hand, “Nagito, come on.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but,” Nagito lowers his voice, so Kazuichi has to take a few steps closer to hear him, “subtlety isn’t one of your many talents.”

Hajime opens his mouth, like he’s going to argue, just as Kazuichi steps forward, intentionally scuffing his shoe against a rock- feeling, for the first time, guilty for eavesdropping. At his footsteps, Hajime whips around, something suspiciously like a blush on his face.

Hajime glares at Nagito, who pays him no mind in favor of greeting Kazuichi, cheerfully, with, “What great luck. Hajime was just looking for you.”

The beanie, a few minutes ago, had felt silly while on the beach, under the constant sun. Now, he’s grateful to have something to fidget with. He pulls it lower, as if that’ll hide him.

“You always know where to find me.”

Hajime raises his eyebrows, glancing once at Nagito- who, judging from his shrug, isn’t much help. “I wasn’t sure you wanted visitors.”

“I never mind seeing you.” It’s as if flashing neon signs reading AWKWARD blind him for a moment as he backpedals, “Uh, whenever you want to hang out, man. Never too busy for you.”

“We should,” Hajime interrupts, before Kazuichi can spiral deeper. “Hang out, I mean. Just me and you. If you have time.”

Kazuichi looks over to Nagito- or, the empty spot where Nagito was. There’s a footprint in the sand and, in the distance, he spots the flash of a coat as Nagito trips over rocks on his way to beat a hasty retreat. It’s hard to tell whether Nagito has been taking lessons from Peko, or if Kazuichi’s skills in observation are worse than he thought. He’s not sure whether he wants to thank him or curse him for leaving them- maybe he’ll decide based on how much a disaster this ends up being.

Hajime is watching him expectantly, not as surprised by Nagito’s escape act.

“Not a lot going on right now. Besides, you know, the apocalypse.” It’s hard not to be nervous, even if Kazuichi can’t pinpoint exactly why. He can feel a tangent coming on, forces himself to stop before he says something he’ll regret. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

Hajime shuffles a step closer and looks down, not meeting Kazuichi’s eyes. “I’ve missed you. I know that’s stupid, since we’re both on the same island, but-“

“I know what you mean,” he says, quietly, cutting him a break, “I think.” He hopes he knows what he means- hopes it means what it means to him.

Hajime looks up, mismatched eyes studying him. It’s not as disconcerting as he imagined it might be.

After a moment, Hajime glances away again, breaking eye contact. “Do you want to go now? There’s food in the kitchen. It’s nothing glamorous, but,” he shakes his head, smile a little sheepish, “I guess I’m not very good at this, even now.”

He’s clearly doing something right, but if Kazuichi could figure that out, he would have a lot easier time responding. He’d probably even say something more eloquent than, “Sounds great! Lead the way?”

It doesn’t make a difference. Hajime looks delighted, like Kazuichi had said anything else. It’s a warm feeling, to see Hajime smile even when he’s barely done anything to deserve it.

Hesitating just a step, Hajime turns back to Kazuichi and holds his hand out, offering an unsure smile and no words to the silent gesture. Kazuichi takes it before he can change his mind and lets himself be pulled along, nothing on his mind but this moment, the sun, the waves and Hajime.

They can make something new here- hands and hope and a life no longer broken into half-remembered pieces. It’s a new start, after the world and their lives have been burned away a few times over. A second or third chance. Best to stop counting, at this point.

It’s only fitting that they begin again on a beach. This time, he’ll be aiming a little higher than “soul friends”.

#danganronpa #hajime hinata #kazuichi souda #nagito komaeda #hajime x kazuichi #ehh i dont have enough practice writing these guys #but i think its good enough for now #should be on ao3 shortly

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soulmate-game · 5 years ago

Text

Part 2 of the Marinette x Peter soulmate oneshot

Part 1

—*—*—*—*—*

“And here,” the grouchy man in front of her held out a ring, making his daughter raise an eyebrow. His grey-blue eyes rolled almost to the back of his skull at the silent communication. “Using Kaalki for all your traveling is extremely inefficient. He’s eating all my sugar cubes.”

“You can just conjure up more,” Marinette countered, smirking in amusement as she took the sling ring from him. She was seventeen now, and had been visiting her father about once a month for the past few months, almost a year, since she first met him after he made a deal with Dormammu and essentially saved their entire reality.

“Relying on another living being for your teleportation is stupid,” her father argued, crossing his arms. “It delays you. You might not be the best at using a sling ring, but I made sure you can operate it reliably. This way, you always have an option for a near instantaneous escape.”

Marinette just snorted and slipped on the ring, right next to the silver one that sat on her right thumb. Her father didn’t approve of her wielding both Creation and Destruction at once, especially considering the fact that he knew firsthand how much energy it took to wield something with the power of an Infinity Stone, but she still did it regardless.

Adrien needed a break from the Miraculous after his father was arrested, and Marinette was only making sure that the two most sought after Miraculous were as safe as possible until she could find someone to trust as a new Cat. She wasn’t about to give up being Ladybug anytime soon just so she could retire the ring.

“Whatever you say, Dad,” she said cheerfully, ignoring his huff of annoyance at her dismissive response. Quickly leaning in, she pecked him on the cheek and jogged backwards. “See you next month!” She waved happily. Seeing the slight blush on her father’s cheeks and the way he stubbornly tried to pretend like he didn’t like the familial affection at all and was not at all a doting father figure who spoiled his daughter rotten (he was), made Marinette burst into laughter even as she waved goodbye to Wong and left out of the front door of the New York Sanctum.

She would get some shopping in the fashion district done first, and then use the sling ring to get back to Paris. Kaalki could use the rest, not that she would ever admit it to her dad.

She was browsing a high-end tailor, looking at the suits they had on display, when the door opened. She didn’t bother looking back to see who had entered, hoping that whatever rich client just came in would not question the little Asian teenager critically analyzing the merchandise. She had to be up to date on both male and female fashion, after all, and her suit construction could always use improvement. She was inspecting the way that a certain collar was stitched when the voices of the two people who had entered finally caught her attention.

“But I don’t need it,” a younger voice argued, sounding as if the owner of said voice was pouting. “And you shouldn’t spend that kind of money on me.”

“You should know by now that money doesn’t matter to me, kid. Besides, this is more efficient. Instead of wasting energy punching a guy in the face and possibly getting hurt, you just press this button and run. Help will be on the way, and if your aim is good then the guy’ll be tazed. Everyone wins.”

“Mister Staaaarrrrkkkk,” the younger voice, a boy Marinette realized once she looked up, whined. “You’re already getting me a probably super expensive suit because you won’t let me wear my old one to your party—“

“Your old one is a mess, no offense, and the pants are too short.”

“—That’s not the point, Mister Stark.”

“And anyone coming with me to my own party is gonna look fantastic.”

“You went to a party last year in an Iron Man t-shirt under a suit jacket and sneakers, Mister Stark.”

“Okay, but I look fantastic in anything. Have you seen me? I’m gorgeous.”

“Are you saying he doesn’t look good in anything?” Marinette chose to finally speak up, her mouth already curled up into a wide smile. They reminded her of how she acted with her father. Not even the fact that she was talking to Tony goddamned Stark could make her back down now that she had seen him acting so paternal and soft.

The famous engineer gaped at her for a second, and the boy next to him crossed his arms and smiled wickedly.

“Yeah, Mister Stark. Are you saying I’m not gorgeous?”

“What—I—this is betrayal. Ganging up on a guy is not fair play,” the billionaire protested childishly, pointing to each of them as if he expected that to be intimidating. It just came off fatherly. “You know what? Fine. Go to my gala in one of your science pun t-shirts, it’s not like I care anyway since I’ll be doing the same thing. We can even wear the exact same shirt if you want. But when Pepper kills us both, it’s your fault.”

Both teenagers laughed at the poor guy’s dramatics. The teenaged designer decided to introduce herself, walking over and holding out her hand to the boy. “I’m Marinette. I didn’t know Tony Stark had a son.”

The boy instantly went beet red, and started stammering. Marinette winced, feeling bad since she knew exactly how that felt. She was usually on the opposite end of an interaction like this, after all.

“Dad’s not my Stark. I mean Mister Dad isn’t— I mean—“

“He’s my intern,” Tony saved him, clapping a firm hand on the boy’s upper arm to try and ground him. Marinette furrowed her brows, noticing how Stark had carefully avoided touching his “intern’s” (she wasn’t buying that story for a second) shoulder. But the boy had instantly relaxed, so Marinette tried not to think too hard about it.

Finally, he took Marinette’s hand and shook it. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. The intern.”

Marinette was about to reply, but she felt her shoulders start to tingle. Then a flash of bright light erupted, and almost blinded them. Peter and Marinette just stared at each other for a moment before movement caught their eyes, and made both of them stumble back in shock.

“You have two mini-me’s on your shoulders!” Peter cried, pointing to Marinette.

“No, you have two mini-ME’s on YOUR shoulders!” She shot back, pointing to him. Sure enough, he had a disturbingly Kwami-looking mini-Marinette hovering over one of his shoulders dressed in all blue. Over his other shoulder was an equally chibi, Kwami-looking version of Ladybug. Domino mask and all.

Marinette stumbled back a few extra steps when her own floating… things… flew in front of her face. One was clearly a mini Peter, also dressed in all blue just like the miniature version of herself that Peter had. But the other one was a mini—

“Oh my god,” she whispered, looking straight at Peter—no, at her soulmate— as her floating versions of him returned back to float over her shoulders. “You’re—“

“Shh!” He held a finger over his lips. Marinette shut her mouth, realizing a little too late that she had just been about to expose his secret identity. Big no-no, and she knew it.

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck?” Tony suddenly spoke up, looking at the both of them like they had grown second heads. “You guys just started freaking out after Peter introduced himself, and I’m confused.”

“Wait, you didn’t see that?” Peter demanded, staring at his mentor in disbelief. “The bright flash of light, the floating anime-fairy versions of ourselves floating over each other’s shoulders, you didn’t see ANY of that?”

Confusion melted away into realization, which transformed into mischief on Tony’s face. “Ohh, I see what’s going on. You’re soulmates.”

“Oh my god we’re soulmates,” Peter breathed, looking over to a still-shell shocked and frozen Marinette. “I just met my soulmate. Oh my god.”

“Mon Dieu,” Marinette couldn’t help slipping back into French. She began to ramble in her native language; “I can’t believe this. What are the floating things supposed to be anyway? I thought the marks on our shoulders were our Marks, that we could just feel extreme pain from one another. This doesn’t make sense. What does this mean? Did our Bond evolve once we met? What can we do now? Why can’t soul bonds respect secret identities? Oh Kwami I have to tell my parents and that is going to be a nightmare and—“

“Oh my god, she’s just as bad as you,” Tony remarked, impressed as he watched the little Asian girl ramble on in rapid French. Luckily, his title was Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, emphasis on Genius, and he was fluent enough to keep up with what she said.

“Relax,” he interrupted gently in the same language, shocking her into paying attention and stopping her rambling. “We can always get Peter’s suit another day, this is more important. So how about we go back to the Tower—“

Wrong thing to say.

“Avenger’s Tower? The home to all of the primary active Avengers, the headquarters for the New York branch of Stark Industries? The single most intimidating building in the whole city, THAT tower?” Marinette rambled, still in French, with absolute horror written all over her face. “I would pass out before we got inside.”

Tony glanced over at a very confused but worried Peter, who didn’t understand a word of what was being said but could clearly read the distress on his soulmate’s face. “She’s your other half, alright,” he told him in English before looking back to the girl. “Where do you want to go, then?”

Marinette opened her mouth, but the mini-Peter flew in front of her face and gave her cheek a hug. She blinked, feeling bracing coolness coming from where the pixie-creature touched her skin. It brought her back to the present, and allowed her to take a deep breath and calm down. “Thanks,” she said to the little thing, cupping her hand around it gently to try and simulate a hug of her own before looking back at the boys in front of her (because let’s be real, Stark was only a “man” half the time and a “man-child” the rest).

Finally lucid enough to switch back to English, Marinette answered Tony. “I actually came here to visit my dad. My biological father, technically. We can go to his place.”

Sure, he’d be annoyed at her at first, but once Marinette explained he would calm down. Probably.

Tony agreed, and led her out to the sports car they had taken to get over here.

“Good thing Peter talked me out of bringing a two-seater, huh?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Don’t touch that,” Marinette warmed, leaping forward to keep Peter’s hands off of a potentially dangerous magical artifact. She would be more annoyed if Peter didn’t look suitably guilty, or have a near permanent sparkle of wonder and awe on his face from seeing everything in the Sanctum.

“This is like being in Harry Potter! I’m Hufflepuff by the way, what about you?” The hyper boy asked her, his excitement at all the magic surrounding him overruling his natural shyness. “But for real, the special effects you guys have is ridiculous. And actually putting up a three-dimensional projector outside to hide the true appearance of the building? How much money do you have?”

“For the last time, Peter,” Marinette said slowly, crossing her arms with barely disguised amusement. “No projectors. No technology. This is all legitimate magic.”

“Legitimate magic doesn’t exist,” he shot back with an eye roll. Marinette just raised her eyebrows.

“You regularly visit a tower and mentor with a guy who works with a Norse god, a literal witch, a large green buff guy, and an Android brought to life by magic.”

“...Okay, But…”

Marinette would also be a lot more annoyed at how hard Peter was to convince, if she didn’t know full well that she got the better end of the deal. Her father was the one in charge of Stark, which was undoubtedly the shorter end of the stick. Already the billionaire had activated five ancient artifacts, gotten bodily pulled away by Strange from another four, and her father had finally decided to just teleport the mechanic away when Peter wasn’t looking. Marinette didn’t want to know what her dad decided was necessary to convince Stark that magic was real and he should shut up and stop acting superior.

Her dad was a hypocrite, she knew it. She also knew he was probably having the time of his life doing to Stark what was probably done to him when he was first introduced to Sorcery.

By the time Strange had returned with a shaken up and very annoyed Tony Stark (looking like a very smug cat as even the Cloak preened on his shoulders), Marinette had already introduced Peter to the Kwami and teleported him to all of the seven wonders of the world.

For some reason, it was her ladybug transformation, of all things, that finally proved to Peter that magic was real. Something about magical girls and anime..? Marinette couldn’t completely follow his rapid rambling. She was good at English, and had mastered more vocabulary than most native speakers because of her constant reading of medical and scientific journals, but she still wasn’t great at deciphering when people spoke too quickly.

“All done, Dad?” She asked cheerfully, earning a half-hearted glare from the billionaire next to him. Her father just smirked.

“Indeed. Now, what was the reason you came back to the Sanctum without warning with two outsiders, one of which is most definitely going to give me recurring migraines?” He asked, eyes trailing over as the mechanic huffed and joined his mentee (son). Then, the sorcerer’s eyes landed on the four floating miniatures of the two teens in the room. “Oh. You have awakened your Bond.”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, looking over at Peter. Seeing a mini-her and mini-Ladybug just swinging their legs happily as they sat on his shoulders was surreal. Then again, his mini-selves were attracting his own, much more exasperated, attention. His mini-him was just sleeping on his stomach on Marinette’s right shoulder, while his mini-Spider-Man was doing a two-finger handstand and trying to impress the Cloak.

The Cloak clapped two of its corners in support, to which Strange pretended not to notice.

“We were, well I was anyway, hoping you could explain,” Marinette told her father. “My magic doesn’t really help with analyzing non-Miraculous things, and soulbonds are completely out of my expertise. With how I’m supposed to be back in Paris already, I figured getting a crash course from you as to what to expect would be better. Peter and I probably won’t be able to hang out in person very much until school let’s out,” she explained.

“Wait, you have magic too?” Tony asked, nose scrunched up. Meanwhile, Peter’s eyes were wide.

“You’re from Paris? What are you doing her—oh my god did you teleport? Like how you took me to see the Sphinx?!” He asked, bouncing up and down on his feet. Marinette smiled at his enthusiasm, liking how he wasn’t as opposed to magic as his father figure certainly was.

“Yes, I teleported. I visit my father every month, not that my parents know.”

“Her mother and step father only know that she calls me, and they believe that I occasionally fly over to visit her,” Stephen filled in casually as he flattened parts of his uniform and just generally moved his hands around to disguise the trembling in them as subtly as possible. They had gotten better over time, with him performing simple physical therapy exercises every day and his magic helping, but he no longer desired to get rid of the damage entirely. He knew he no longer needed to. “But they know nothing about magic, or the fact that she occasionally parades across Paris as a spotted heroine.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Tony asked, turning to his son— mentee’s— Bonded with his eyebrows raised high on his head. “Why did I never hear about a hero in Paris? Trust me, I look.”

“And I am very good at hiding,” Marinette retorted, her eye roll showing very clearly who she was related to. “The magic of the Miraculous helped. The super villain that used to plague Paris, Gabriel Agreste, used to wield the Miraculous of Transmission. The butterfly,” she told the boys easily. “His powers allowed him to control the transmission of information outside of Paris, though it was more of a… how do you say…” Marinette paused, allowing her father to chime in;

“Passive ability,” The older magic user offered up. “He didn’t want the Avengers or anyone else to interfere, so his abilities passively controlled transmission of Paris news so that it didn’t reach anyone that might bright that to pass. It helps that Marinette’s own powers include completely reversing the damage caused by a Miraculous. Every time the Eiffel Tower was knocked over or turned to ash, she brought it back as if nothing had happened,” he explained. His daughter nodded.

“So any rumors of Paris having a villain would probably have been seen as jokes,” Marinette told him gently, her smile lopsided. “Even the Ladyblog, a now defunct website that used to cover all the attacks, has received a lot of comments from international viewers about how good the special effects were or how intrigued they were by the ‘show’s premise,’” she admitted, using finger quotations for emphasis.

“But you got him, right? The bad guy?” Peter asked, looking straight into Marinette’s eyes. She giggled and nodded.

“Oh yeah. Turns out he was the father of the guy I had a crush on, so,” she made a face. “Not the best situation ever. But his son was also secretly my superhero partner the whole time, which made the situation both better and worse in several ways.”

“Oh hey, me too!” Peter said excitedly, his face also squishing into something uncomfortable. “Minus the superhero partner part. But a while back, I took down this guy, the Vulture, who turned out to be the father of this girl I liked.”

“It’s the worst, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah.” He agreed.

“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Strange interrupted, earning a sigh of relief from the only other adult in the room.

“Thank Science, I did not want to hear another word about teenage romance,” Tony clapped his hands together. “So, what’s up with their Connection, Doc?”

After briefly closing his eyes for patience, Doctor Strange raised one slightly shaking hand and summoned up a few glowing symbols. Muttering under his breath, he walked a loose circle around the two teenagers and bathed them in the shining orange light. After about a minute of this he stepped back with a hum of thought and a single raised eyebrow. His lips quirking into a disturbingly amused smirk did not help Marinette or Peter’s nerves.

Both naturally nervous teens squirmed impatiently.

“What few people know is that the Universe actually has a name for each type of essence link, or what most people know colloquially as a soul bond,” he explained, purposefully sounding pompous to annoy Tony, who scoffed. “The name for your bond is ‘Shoulder Angels’ and I believe it is supposed to mimic the classic devil and angel on the shoulder trope,” he crossed his arms with far too much joy in his eyes. “The blue one is your civilian self, which embodies everything normal and relatively healthy. It keeps you grounded in reality and helps you through healthy pain and emotions. The red one is your hero alter ego, which represents whimsy, encourages creativity, and will help you through toxic situations. You can call it your personal hero, really. Whenever you are experiencing toxic emotions, a dangerous situation, or anything similar, it will contact your Linked partner and allow them to comfort you by astral projecting them to you or, in an extreme situation, actually teleporting them to you. Other than that and their base characteristics, they have simplified versions of your own personalities.”

“So, the drawings on our shoulders,” Marinette said slowly. “Are they still there, or did they turn into these…” she looked at the little things again. “Fairy things?”

Stephen smiled proudly. “Always asking the right questions. Yes, the symbols were just a placeholder and altogether weaker version since you had not met in person. They are gone now, and only the two of you or experienced magic users can see your essence sprites. Although, once you practice with them you will be able to show them to people you trust. But that will take time.”

“I see…” Marinette looked over at Peter. “So, uh. Hi. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and sometimes Paris’s superhero Ladybug. Want my phone number?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Oh come on, a Churro is totally a real pastry,” Peter, currently Spider-Man, argued with the Marinette-sprite on his shoulder. The little chibi puffed out it’s cheeks and tapped it’s toe on the open air before pointing to a bakery that had good looking cookies and cupcakes in its store window. “Oh no, those are expensive and I’m broke. This might be cheap street-churro, but it’s good and I’m eating it. See?” He crunched a giant bite of his fried snack. “Mmmm.”

Mini-Bug on his other shoulder just sighed heavily in defeat.

“Wow, I didn’t know you spoke to yourself Spidey. Did ya go crazy over the weekend?” A familiar voice asked from behind him, making Spider-Man groan and shove the rest of his churro into his mouth. After he swallowed, he stood and turned to the new figure on the roof behind him.

“No, Wade. I met my soulmate, and now we have little mini-us-es on our shoulders. I have mini-hers and she has mini-me’s. Mini-her number one is trying to convince me that churros are not real pastries,” he jabbed his thumb at the one he was talking about. “Mini-her number two is just trying to get me to eat more healthy, which is not working either.”

“Oh wow, I have mini-me’s too! But they are just me, not my soulmate.”

“Do you have two bonds?” Spidey asked, tilting his head. Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, shook his head.

“Nah. My soulmate and I had a wound sharing bond.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth, deciding to just pull his mask back down over his mouth and ignore that statement to the best of his ability. He had seen Wade literally torn in half and shot in the head way more times than he could count, and he doubted Wade’s soulmate could heal like he could.

“So what you’re telling me,” Spidey said slowly, defaulting to his usual way of handling heavy topics. “Is that you’re just crazy.”

Wade pulled out a gun, and Spider-Man just laughed as he jumped off the side of the building to swing away. Mini-Marinette glared at him, but Mini-Ladybug was laughing right alongside him. He grinned at both of them behind his mask. Yeah, they couldn’t talk and weren’t replacements for the real thing, but it was nice having their company.

—*—*—*—*—*

That’s all I got for now. I might add a couple scenes here and there if I get inspiration, but for now this is it. Hope it’s okay.

#mlb x marvel #marinette x peter parker #soulmate au #bio dad stephen strange

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mr007pennyworth · 4 years ago

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Feeding Barry Headcanon

“Is this a bad time to bring up my blood sugars?”

If there was one thing Bruce had to make sure he calculated for when he built the Justice League was making sure his speedster didn't go hungry.

Money, was never the issue, the real issue came about making sure Barry had someone TO MAKE SURE he was eating enough to cope.

On an average day, just from watching Barry consume a full 18 inch pizza by himself and a guess from looking at the details of some of the foods he’d listed online, that he and Alfred would have there hands full.

Well, more Alfred.

Cue, Alfred.

When Bruce explained Barry’s apatite to Alfred at first, he didn't quite see the issue, Bruce downed 3,500 calories a day most of it just proteins so, another mouth to feed wasn’t all that hard, Dick had been on the same by the time he’d hit 16.

But when Bruce ran the simulation of Barry’s metabolism on the computer, they both began to panic.

How was a boy his age managing to feed himself the MINIMUM of DOUBLE Bruce’s calories a day on his budget?!

Alfred came to the conclusion that unless Barry ate roughly 7,000 calories a day at minimum, he’d start losing weight.

Bruce was in the trash in ten minutes, digging up the MacDonald's takeaway containers he’d bought Barry just that afternoon.

He’d given the kid his card and said go. Now he sat here with the boxes of 3 Bigs Mac’s, 6 double cheeseburgers, 3 packets of large fries, 20 chicken nuggets, a black coffee, a large irn bru and 5 apple pies. That was roughly 9,087 calories from what they could add up from the nutritional info.

That was LUNCH. That was...Barry’s minimum daily needs and only $50 out Bruce’s pocket.

$50, was pretty much Barry’s budget for THREE days of meals not just one.

Bruce went to argue with Barry that he needed to move in, Alfred managed to stop him.

Barry was all grown up and had been independent for too long to allow Bruce to walk into his life and smother him.

But something had to be done.

It took awhile but Barry did move in with some carefully plying by Alfred and the Butler managed to start tracking his food intake.

By making sure Barry got 6 meals a day for his 7,000 calories out of Bruce’s pocket, letting Barry add the rest became routine.

Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, Afternoon Tea, Diner and Supper, Alfred was finally back to using his cook books that had been gathering dust.

Each meal had to have 1,160 calories and 30g or more of proteins to be any use to Barry’s development. Now, Alfred could have just given the boy a lump of cash and let him go bonkers on fast food, but the fat’s and sugars were the bigger hurdles, as much as it met his calories and his proteins in meat from burgers...it didn’t meet everything else.

Barry’s malnutrition he found didn’t just come from the lack of food, it was the lack of the RIGHT foods. Even though Alfred balanced all six of Barry’s meals a day to cater for vitamins and such it wouldn’t be enough in places, that was where medication would have to come in, now he finds one afternoon after offering the boy some ibuprofen, that they didn’t work, his metabolism swallowed the effects in just a few minutes. Even tripling the dose, it was out of his system in just 12 minutes. That ment that to account for the speed at which his body used it’s building blocks everything had to be at least TWENTY times the rate of a normal human every day just for Barry to get a close enough dose of his nutrition.

To put into perspective, an average male needs 500ug of Vitamin D a day, thats...30 minutes of sun. Barry, on the other hand needed over 10,000 a day just to function. Something that was easily helped with him being able to travel, a couples of hours in Australia and he’d get a solid top up, but running back ment using his powers, ment burning his body’s reserves, it was one hell of a game. Tablets, were Alfred’s go to. Ten dissolvable multi vitamin tablets in a 2 liter bottle of OJ a day and Barry was good to go, with his meals included, Alfred was glad to see Barry starting to look better after the first few months.

Until, he wasn’t.

Going to work without breakfast, had Alfred concerned, but he had his packed brunch and lunch, he had his extra cash for snacks. To find that the lunch had only been half eaten when he came home was massive question mark.

Dinner Time...he said he wasn’t hungry and Alfred had him dragged towards the cave in just a moment.

Just the ONE day of not eating his minimum calories and all the work that they had progressed on was fading. Barry still as much as he’d gotten off his chest about the anniversary of his mothers death, refused to eat.

IV’s it came too then.

Dragging the boy back upstairs, he handed him off to Bruce who situated him in his room while Alfred set about getting Barry on some IV drips.

Barry muttered on about the fuss but didn't fight Bruce keeping him in the bed as Alfred put IV catheters in both arms. 6 bags of 20% dextrose fluids wouldn’t do the job his meals should have but it would prevent him from going hypoglycemic for the rest of the day. In the mean time, Bruce set about finding his weak spot, his food weak spot. Now Barry liked a lot of food, he liked many different foods and Bruce was pretty willing to pay anything for him to eat something.

He returned a few hours later with takeaway Chinese food , Indian Food , Italian food as well as three large pizzas, Mexican food meals, nearly every MacDonald's burger, Fried Chicken bucket meals, Kebabs, 48 Krispy Kreme Dounuts, nine different 12 inch sub sandwiches, Frozen meals from several different supermarkets and even a huge three tier chocolate cake. Bruce had been about to run back out of the door when he recalled a Brazilian takeaway just outside of town as well as another chicken shop when Barry came out of his room pulling the IV stand with him woken up at all the kerfuffle Alfred was making.

“Master Bruce it’s midnight I doubt the boy is going to eat”

Barry, pulling out the IV’s then sat down at the table quietly as they argued, looking over everything Bruce had bought him slightly shy of the money he could imagine he’d spent. A smile broke out on his face at the sight of the brown bag.

“He’s just started gaining weight, Alf if he doesn't-” “I’m fully aware, Bruce look, one day won't kill him, the IV’s will hold on off the worst of the hypo-”

*crunch*

They turned to see the boy happily munching prawn crackers.

Alfred pretty much dropped to the sofa in relief. Bruce just started laughing before pulling out a chair to sit opposite the speedster who was now eyeing up the cake as he packed prawn crackers into one of kebabs.

Nobody said a word until Barry had consumed at least five of the items on the table and paused for a can of lemonade.

“Barry?”

The pup looks up to Alfred on the sofa who was sat with a cup of tea, paper work spread out across his lap as Bruce sat beside him with a his laptop. It was just past one one in the morning.

“Promise me something?”

Barry paused in reaching for the rice pot next to the Korma to indicate he was listening. “When this happens again, you’ll tell me when you’ll eat again before giving us a heart attack won’t you?”

The younger nodded and fought the laugh he almost made at Bruce getting whacked with the folder in Alfred’s hand at his old man response.

Suddenly, Curry wasn't what he wanted. He’d had a kebab, a pizza, three burgers, a subs sandwich and a whole bucket of chicken...he needed something sweet, picking up one of the boxes of dounuts he pads over to the sofa dropping himself between Alfred and Bruce who shared an intrigued look, Barry picks a dounut before pushing the box into Alfred’s lap with a cheeky smirk.

Alfred sighs, the boys puppy brown eyes were too hard to resist and picks one out putting it in his mouth before passing the box back over to Bruce, the vigilante grimaced and went to give them back but caught Barry’s look of confusion.

“Okay, okay, just one, I guess it won’t ruin my diet”

Grabbing the remote, Alfred passes it to Barry as he puts away the paperwork, Bruce does the same tucking away the laptop and watches as Barry flicks for a movie.

“Coffee, Dounuts and bad horror movies at one in the morning...I guess it beats being out in the rain eh” Bruce laughs licking chocolate off his fingers as Barry snuggles into Alfred’s side.

“It’s perfect” Barry smiles around a mouthful of dounut, pulling a face as Alfred goes to wipe the caramel dripping off his chin.

Feeding Barry was always going to be a challenge, but for our vigilante and Butler Dad, it was worth it just to see him happy.

#mr007pennyworth #Alfred and Barry Headcanon #Feeding Barry Headcanon

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rae-arts777 · 4 years ago

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Ok I’ll spar you guys the million screenshots!

RAE IS MAKING A MINI STORY ON THIS! Cause just cause i was bored doesn’t mean you guys have to be ill post the picture of the summary at the end

TW: death stuff, this is Danganronpa simulation by the way

Chapter 1:

The motive was freedom, the first blackened, if they can get away, they’ll be able to walk away, into the outside world. Of course, all you got to do is kill and be free, easy right?

It didn’t take long for Coleman to go mad. Just kill one person and he can leave right? Sam was alone, he can went off the explore the area they were stuck in.

It was too easy. Too easy. All it took was one clean hit to the temple, and Sam was dead. He did it. He could leave now? Right?

A body has been discovered.

Clark screamed, seeing his brother dead on the ground. Makoto wrapped his arms around Clark tightly, he didn’t expect a murder so soon. Coleman just looked at them and laughed. He could le-

No one ever said anything about a trail. The trail...how could Coleman even defend himself? Clark and Makoto saw him over Sam’s body. It didn’t take long for the votes to be casted, as Coleman was dragged out of the room to his doomed faith.

Chapter 2:

The motive was revenge. There were a few people here who had bad blood against each other.

Liu’s eye flickered to Dorothy, that woman, costs him many things. His plan was simple, such a poor weak looking woman would not stand a chance against him.

His kill would be brutal, he wanted her to pay.

Late that night, Liu walked quietly up behind Dorothy, who was alone in the rec room. Her headphones blocked out any noises. Just as he raised the knife to kill, a body tackled him.

Shi Won Kim. The two wrestle for the knife. Dorothy took over her headphones and spun around alarm to see them fighting.

“DOROTHY!! RUN!” Was the last words like left Shi Won’s mouth when a knife was plunged through her heart.

Dorothy let out a heartbroken scream. Watching as Liu continued to stab at Won’s body. Even though Dorothy wasn’t his kill, this woman under him also screwed him over.

Dorothy darted out the room screaming still, her screams carrying down the hall to the others.

A body has been discovered

The trail was quick, Dorothy was still sobbing. It should have been her. It should have been her. Liu cursed Dorothy out as he was dragged away to his await punishment.

Chapter 3:

The motive was obsession. It was no surprise Ishigami had some admiration obsession with Akemi. It was no surprise Akemi had the obsession of keeping Makoto as her own. Despite knowing he was against her, Akemi still, chose to give Makoto her full attention.

Akemi spent whatever time she could with Makoto. Makoto would only go with her cause he knew she would not back down until he said yes.

Over the pass few days, they actually grew sort of close. Oz hated it. Seeing the way that woman laid her hands on his son. The way she called him son, telling him to call her mom. It hurt to see that Makoto did prefer Akemi over him.

Akemi could see the way Oz would look at them. She won’t have it. She won’t have this man take her son. Ishigami, would do anything for Akemi. Anything. She told him to prove his loyalty. Kill Oz.

Need say more? Ishigami followed Oz until he saw the perfect moment. The training room, Ishigami used a cord from the rec room, and choked Oz out. He watch in pleasure as Oz’s face turned blue. The last sight Ishigami saw was Oz’s body going limp, before a forced behind him broke his neck.

Two bodies have been discovered

The trail, Makoto couldn’t help but cry, he had regret. He didnt think Oz would be a victim of this game. Sure Makoto held a grudge against him, but seeing another parent dead, Oz actually being dead, it hurt. Akemi was in the hotbox. It wasn’t a secret she wanted Makoto to herself

Akemi admitted she did ask for Oz to be killed, but Ishigami she didn’t know.

Everyone stood conflicted, couldn’t they even trust this woman? She just admitted she asked for Oz to be killed. Abby sighed heavily and raised her arms up.

“It was me...”

Abby thought she could have saved Oz in time, she figured it was worth dying if she could save him. But she failed.

Makoto broke down more, not Abby.

Abby walked towards the three other members of Team Confidence. Laurent, Cynthia, and Makoto. The four of them shared a tight hug, the three of them holding Abby tightly and close. It didn’t take long for the tears to start pouring, from all four of them. Abby started to sobbed, hugging the three tighter

“Thank you....for making my life worth living..”

Abby walked willing to her execution, waving a sad goodbye to her family. (Hello I’m crying now )

Chapter 4:

The motive was lovers sickness. Being so close together for a long time sparks love between a few people.

Dorothy still heartbroken over Shi Won, Laurent dreaded over Abby’s execution. The two pervious lovers, started to lean on each other for comfort.

Clark tried his best to comfort Makoto. He hated seeing the man spending his days looking like a shell of a person.

Clark made it his mission to take care of Makoto. And to as far as starting to sleep in Makoto’s room at night. It didn’t take long, Clark..loved him. He loved Makoto. He loved him so so so so so much. His Makoto.

Over the pass few days, Makoto being to become himself again. He knew Abby and Oz would want him to keep fighting. He was going to survive for them.

Makoto went to go see how Laurent was holding up. During his time with Dorothy, Laurent learned the feeling he had for her were long gone. However, Dorothy had started falling for the Belgian man during their time together. Laurent smiled as Makoto walked up to him.

The two men hugged each other, both taking a deep breathe. Losing Abby hurt, but they will get out of this for her. Makoto melted into Laurent’s arms, as Laurent held him close. It wasn’t much, just a peck of the head. Laurent pressed his lips against Makoto’s forehead, feeling the small man melt even more into his arms

Clark felt his blood boil from a distance. How. Dare. He. Try. To. Take. His. Makoto?

That night, Laurent was heading to Dorothy’s room to talk to her about how he felt towards her. As he open the door he was me at by a horrible sight.

Dorothy’s body swung back and forth, strung up by her neck on the ceiling fan. Blood dripping from her mouth, the room was trashed like there was a struggle.

Laurent fell to his knees shaking. Not Dorothy too..

Clark busted out of the bathroom holding a bat.

Laurent and Dorothy hung side by side. Clark smiled at his work, leaving a note on the nightstand. Lovers suicide, surely everyone would believe it.

Two bodies have been discovered

Clark held Makoto during the trail. It was a suicide what are they suppose to do?

“Suicide?” Casano shook his head “its more like a homicide”

Salazar nodded in an agreement. The two men had been in a messy business long enough to know when someone was covering up a murder with a suicide. So they did have a killer. But who?

Clark couldn’t contain his laughter. Oh. He had fail. How...interesting.

“YOU COULDNT JUST LET IT HAPPEN HUH?!” Clark snapped at the two men.

Makoto’s eyes widen as he pulled himself away from Clark. “Clark-“

“What? Oh baby..” Clark smiled at him sweetly “don’t be so scared, I did it for you. For us! Don’t you get it?! Laurent was in the way of us! And I couldn’t risk his little girlfriend seeing me killing him! So I took care of her first!!”

Makoto stared into horror. This...wasn’t the Clark he knew.

Clark was dragged away to his punishment, he kept yelling for Makoto.

“Baby! I did it for you!! Please! Come on! Baby! ANSWER ME!!!”

Makoto ran to Cynthia’s arms for comfort. The redhead covered his ears to block out Clark’s yells.

Clark died with a sickness, but they never knew what that sickness was.

Chapter 5

There was no motive involve this time. Sometimes a killing really is an accident.

Cynthia and Yao were auguring by a flight of stairs. It was getting heated. Kudo overheard and went to investigate. He tried to make himself the medium. He knew he had to calm them down, cause to things got messy, Cynthia didn’t stand a chance against Yao.

The fighting got worst, as Yao got in her face, Cynthia scratched his face with her nails. The man screamed in pain and walked backwards holding his face. Before he was warned, he felt his foot fall.

The big man fell down the stairs. Now a fall down the stairs can’t kill you, unless you land on your neck just right. That was the case for Yao. The man laid at the bottom of the long flight, with a broken neck.

Cynthia started shaking. She killed him. She killed him. And now. Oh god. She’s next.

Kudo tried to calm her down. Maybe they Can reason, it was an accident! She didn’t mean too. Kudo grabbed her by her hands and lead her to the kitchen. Some tea would calm her down.

Two bodies had been discovered.

Makoto felt sick during the trail. They had found both Yao at the bottom of the stairs and Cynthia in the kitchen dead. Thomas was quiet the whole time, staring at the ground.

Just as they began the discussion, Kudo confessed.

“I’m sorry...”

Kudo explained, he knew Cynthia would have faced a horrible death. He knew she was scared. He knew there was no way around it. He wanted to lead her out of this world in peace. A poison of the tea, nothing painful. She fell sleepily and that was that. She went out in peace.

Makoto wanted to be angry, but at the same time...Kudo was taking Cynthia’s place in a horrible death.

Kudo smiled cheerily as he was lead out to his doom.

Chapter 6

It was a homestretch, the motive was given to one person, and it was self driven. It was looking they were going to make it out of here. Right?

Thomas couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to be alive anymore. He thought he could make it out of here, but after seeing Cynthia dead...something pushed him over the edge.

The next few days, Thomas begged someone to kill him. He wanted to die, he couldn’t go through with suicide, so he needed someone to kill him. Salazar tried to smack the man straight

“Would Cynthia want to see you like this.? She want you to live”

“Cynthia........please...just...I want to see her again”

Thomas’ wish was granted.

A body has been discovered

Thomas laid bleeding on the ground. His head was broken open, a bloody bat next to him.

The trail was tense. There was so little people.

Makoto looked around and scanned the faces. Everyone suspected everyone.

“I’m sorry....”

Makoto bowed “I just granted him his wish...does that really make me a horrible killer..?”

Akemi screamed, no no no no, not her son. Not him. Not him. Not him.

Salazar looked at the young man..disappointed.

Casano huffed and shook his head “a killer is a killer..but...I guess some killing can be just”

Makoto stood up “I....I’m sorry...I...” he looked up “just want to see everyone again...” a sad smile spread across his face. “When you guys get out of here...make sure a sick game like this never happens again..”

A motive was the chance to see everyone again...but there was a price.

Makoto slowly walked to his death. Akemi tried to run after him, but was held back by Salazar.

When Makoto took his last breath, a door the three had never seen opened.

It was over......but why did they be the ones to survive?

Why couldn’t...at least Makoto survived?

#great pretender #the great pretender #grepre #makoto edamura #laurent thierry #edamura makoto #great pretender anime #abigail jones #cynthia moore #abby jones #dorothy great pretender #seiji ozaki #shi won kim #kudo great pretender #clark ibrahim great pretender #sam ibrahim great pretender #DV simulation #this basically turned into a mini fanfic

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sonofkhaz · 5 years ago

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Musing: Pathologic 2

Pathologic 2 is what you get when Russian game developers down an entire bottle of Flintstone Vitamins with some Vodka while listening to Hardbass after being awake for 72 hours straight. It’s probably one of the best games I’ve played in terms of story-telling and themes.

It’s a great game, despite some mechanical issues. A few years ago, I got the original game off of GOG and only got about halfway through before giving up out of frustration and a little bit of boredom. The sequel fixed a lot of the problems the first game had. For starters, there’s a lot less walking back and forth; rather than having to literally walk around the whole town to check up on your patients to see how they’re doing, it now tells you at the end of each day if they’re okay, in danger of infection, or infected. It’s easier to track your character’s thoughts, the map now has markers, and you can sprint instead of walking (sprinting is now a feature, yes). You can use a ferry system to fast-travel around town at the cost of a coin called a Fingernail, and you can hold down CTRL to highlight points of interest and characters you can speak to.

Despite being praised in Russia and having very positive reviews (91% at the time of writing this) on Steam, the game didn’t get much traction upon its release in the west, with “game journalists”, a term I still don’t fully understand, comparing its difficulty to Dark Souls (yeah, some people still use Dark Souls as the litmus test for game difficulty) and claiming that it has Skyrim-inspired RPG elements. It’s as if “game journalists” have never played anything outside of Bioware games, Skyrim, Dark Souls and Pokemon.

Yeah...despite the fact that comparing a game like Pathologic 2 to something like Dark Souls or Skyrim is completely obtuse and ignorant, I think I understand where the frustration comes from, which I’ll get to later.

The game takes place in Town-On-Gorkhon, an isolated town in the steppes built upon contradictions. From a glance, the town might just look like your average early 20th century Russian town, but it’s inhabited by two groups of people: the Townsfolk, who are just becoming industrialized, and the Kinfolk, a group of Steppe nomads who hold veneration for bulls because they believe that the town rests on the back of a giant auroch, Mother Boddha. In addition, the latter group has a species of humanoids called Worms who water the ground with blood to grow plants, women called Herb Brides who dance in the steppes to make the twyre bloom, and other practices. Despite the contrasts, the two are not at complete odds at each other; rather, both cultures have meshed together.

In the first game, there were 3 different playable characters, but for now you’re only able to play as Artemy Burakh, the Haruspex. His father was a Kin doctor and his mother was a Townsfolk. After six years of medical school, Artemy is called back home by an urgent letter from his father, only to find out that he’s been murdered. See, a haruspex was someone in history who could divine the future from entrails; since Artemy is technically a surgeon who just returned to a town where cutting arteries, attacking someone with a knife, and digging holes in the ground are all considered taboo, he’s the primary suspect, so everyone hates his guts. People will initially refuse to trade with you, shopkeepers won’t sell their goods, and some people will try to attack you in the street. In the wake of this, a mysterious plague referred to only as the Sand Pest hits the town.

Pathologic 2 is like an adventure game and a “horror survival” tied into one. The imagery of the game goes from uncanny valley to flat out dark, with red pustules and moss-like substances growing on the buildings and streets of infected districts, infected townsfolk shuffling towards you to try and infect you, and plague clouds that manifest and chase you down the street. If you’re unfortunate to get infected with the plague, you hear voices in your head telling you, gently, to lay down and die so your suffering can cease. While you’re trying to find a cure and trying to save NPCs from the plague, you yourself are trying to survive.

Your overall survival is dependent on more than just your health bar. Sergei tries to shank you for your track suit and Semechki seeds, yeah, your health will go down if he manages to hit you. But then you have to factor in your hunger, exhaustion, immunity, and stamina/thirst. You’re hungry, so you eat some toast, but now your thirst meter is going up; while it’s not immediately detrimental, it affects the duration you’re able to sprint and fight. Your exhaustion meter is full, so you lay down to sleep for a few hours, but now your hunger is going back up and you’ve just spent precious hours that could have potentially have been used doing something else. Uh oh, you just got hit with a plague cloud and your immunity is dropping - do you use the immunity boosters/tinctures you were saving for patients to bring it back up, or are you going to take the risk and wait for it to slowly climb back to where it was?

Any time you die, your screen blacks out and you speak to Mark Immortell the Theatre Director, who gives you a tut-tut-tutting on dying and sends you back to your last save file with a penalty. Your maximum health/exhaustion meters are reduced, you get hungrier and more tired as time progresses, so on and so forth. These all stack, and they’re all permanent across all save files, so there’s no going back to scum save to prevent the penalties. If you die enough, you get visited by a friend who will offer to remove your current and future penalties forever...for a cost that you may not learn of until it’s too late to change your mind.

This ties back to my previous statement about how people were criticizing this game. A lot of survival games in modern gaming tend to be generous towards the player in terms of, well, survival - you have a meter that’s running low, or a supply that’s dwindling, so you stop whatever you’re doing to rectify the situation. Should you fail there’s usually an “out” by returning to a previous save. You can’t do this in Pathologic; one reason being mentioned in the previous paragraph. Another is the fact that time is always working against you - really, the only moment where time tends to stop moving is if you’re in a dream sequence or if you physically pause the game. The clock is always ticking so you need to frequently assess the efficiency of what you’re doing and if it will pay off in the long run. The game has a lot of choices, and not in Peter Molyneux’s Fable or Black and White perspectives of “choice”. The decisions can vary greatly. Let’s say that one of your friends needs a water barrel because they want to get water for the poor and impoverished in their district. Well meaning, but what if it infects the neighbors? The hospital needs the tinctures you need to boost the immunity of nameless patients; everyone will like you more if you carry the task out, and you’ll get paid the next day, but what if tomorrow means that half a dozen cast characters get infected and you don’t have the time to make more tinctures?

Critics of Pathologic 2 have bemoaned the fact that you can’t just walk around, immune to virtually anything and everything, and talk to the NPCs while freely exploring the town to learn more about the Sand Pest and the overall story. The desire to know more about the story is a fair point, but here’s where I see the problem: There’s a genre of story-driven adventure style games, usually referred to as “Walking Simulators”, that are typically praised and lauded by the “video games are art” crowd. Games like Dear Esther, Firewatch, What Remains of Edith Finch, and Gone Home are usually put in this category.

The difference between Pathologic 2 and those games is that the latter group takes a more “hands-off” approach in their storytelling. You don’t have a lot of interactivity or mechanics that directly tie into the games. The named NPCs you speak with in Pathologic 2 are fleshed out; it’s personal because Artemy Burakh has history with them, and the decisions that you make, or don’t make, will ultimately decide their survival. Many of them have multiple outcomes; you speak with them, see their angles, see what information they may be willing to give out or abstain from initially giving, so on and so forth. The game pushes you towards investing them emotionally. Not only are you trying to save them from the plague, but you’re trying to save yourself. You’re also trying not to starve, you’re also trying not to get infected. Rather than watching a sinking ship, you’re part of the crew trying to bail the water out and plug the hole.

Not all the mechanics are perfect. Guns and their ammo, while being extremely rare/expensive to find, have a tendency to jam up way too much and hitboxes can be choosy. Hand-to-hand combat can feel clunky, and the inventory can be a colossal pain in the ass to manage since the game does not auto-sort individual stacks and uses Diablo-style inventory management. However, I have very rarely seen things like these critiqued by the “video games are art” crowd; rather, they complain about the meter management. The problems of the town seem real because you’re in it as well. Without having to manage your meters, making sacrifices and decisions, it takes away the conditions that make moments in the game memorable.

Remember: Failure is a very real, understandable and relatable aspect of human life and society. There are times in life where you fail repeatedly before you see the light at the end of the tunnel and triumph. One of the marketing pitches of this game was, “You can’t save everybody”. For example, I spent three consecutive days treating Andrey Stamatin after he was afflicted with the Sand Pest, and it ultimately came to naught because he died anyway. Some of the game's most memorable moments and interesting dialogue come when you are unsuccessful, because the game knows that you’re going to fail at some points even when you try your best.

Overall, would I recommend Pathologic 2? Absolutely. Would I recommend it to someone who cares about story-driven games? Totally. Would I recommend it to people who have low frustration walls? No.

#pathologic 2 #pathologic #computer games #musing #long post

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