#once i finish ill do bigger actual pieces

[xiaoyazii]

doodle of the jonkler and cat. i really dont know how to draw curly hair i just ball and hope it looks good

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

It Was You All Along (Part 2)

Part Two is here! I haven’t been this inspired to write in so long, and I promise I will get to all the Criminal Minds and Supernatural requests in my inbox. I was just so excited to get this out. This part is all fluff and realizations, with a sprinkle of pining thrown in. It was partially inspired by the scene in Tangled where Eugene and Rapunzel enter the town and start dancing. Enjoy and please leave feedback! 

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

Since we had come to a stop, I looked around to try and figure out why. Geralt never really says anything. He just does stuff. 

He got off Roach in a very not graceful manner, and began to walk towards the trees on the side of the path we stood on. I felt Jaskier shift behind me. 

“The hell is he doing?”

I shrugged. Then I wondered if he even knew what he was doing. The thought made me chuckle to myself. Until Geralt came out of the trees and stood impatiently on the side of the path. 

“The town is this way. It’s covered by the trees.”

Without waiting for our response, he turned and led Roach through the trees by her reins. I guess that meant it was our turn. 

Jaskier got off Lily first, then I followed suit. The two of us walked over to where Geralt went, Lily’s reins in my hand. Jaskier walked a few feet ahead of me, swatting branches and leaves out of his way as he went. Luckily, I didn’t quite reach them, so I could duck instead of doing that. As we walked, I watched Jaskier in front of me. The past few days had felt...different around him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I felt different when I was around him. He felt different. The air...everything was just different. Not bad, however. It made my head spin and my chest flutter just thinking about it. Only, I didn’t even really know what I was thinking about in the first place. I had never felt this way before. And I wasn’t even sure what had started it. Jaskier was the same person. I was the same person. Yet the feeling was beyond off. 

Jaskier humming drew me out of my thoughts, and honestly I really didn’t mind. There had been many a night where we sat up late, talking and singing around the fire when Geralt fell asleep or was off doing something violent somewhere. It was a way we bonded. It took forever for me to start feeling comfortable enough to sing or even hum around him. But it had become one of our favorite things to do together. 

It was then that I noticed he had started to hum a new song that I didn’t recognize. 

“Jaskier, what song is that? I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

His tune stopped abruptly, and he looked over his shoulder at me with a small smile. 

“A new piece I’ve been working on. What do you think?” 

I smiled back at him before saying, “I like it” a little too loudly. 

He laughed and it made my heart skip a beat. There’s that feeling again! What is it? 

“Good. I’m glad.”

“But what about the words, Jaskier? Are there any words yet?”

He laughed again, this time a bit nervously. 

“Th-those are a work in progress, my fair lady.”

My breath hitched in my throat. What in the world is wrong with me? Am I falling ill? He calls me names like that all the time. It’s what best friends do. Right?

~

We walked and walked for what seemed like forever. Then we finally reached a clearing past a large break in the trees. And it took my breath away. 

All sorts of small huts and shacks and buildings lined the field in front of us. Some were on small hills, others in the valleys that had been created between them. Cows, chickens, and every animal you could imagine grazed on the grass surrounding us. The greenest grass that I had ever seen. Each blade seemed to blow in the breeze to its own rhythm, but together they made a song. 

“Geralt, how did you know this town was hidden like this?” I asked him incredulously. 

“I heard it,” the Witcher said simply. 

He walked off with Roach, leaving us behind as he usually did. 

I turned to Jaskier, the weird feeling from before completely dissipated in the present moment. He stared out towards the town as well, completely in awe. 

“Why would they want to hide something like this? Something so beautiful?” 

“Maybe...,” Jaskier said beside me, “maybe they want to keep it hidden. Until it’s ready to be seen.”

I glanced at him. He had an almost forlorn look on his face. But only for a split second. Then he was back to his regular smile. But his smile...it looked different now. Had it always looked like this? Maybe it was the lighting.

~

Upon walking into the town, we soon found the inn. Geralt and Jaskier got a room to share with two beds, and I got my own room with a single, small bed. I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Geralt’s face when he found out that he had to share a room with Jaskier. 

“Come now Geralt, it won’t be all bad! I can sing you to sleep if you like,” Jaskier said grandly as we walked up the stairs to put our things away. 

“Try it and see what happens,” Geralt growled. 

A slightly terrified expression fell upon Jaskier’s features, and I couldn’t help laughing once more. 

Once our things were put away and Jaskier finished complaining, Geralt left us to our own devices with only these words as a parting gift: “Don’t fuck anything up while I’m gone.”

We watched him ride Roach away to the edge of the town, to wherever his contract took him. Then it was just me and Jaskier. 

“Well, what now?” I asked, turning to the bard. 

He put his hands on his hips and looked around. 

“What is there to do around here, I wonder?” 

I jumped in front of him excitedly before asking, “Want to find some trouble to get into?” 

He bent down to meet my height with a smile that I thought would split his face in two. 

“Let’s.” 

~

The more we walked around, the more I didn’t understand how this beautiful, bustling town could fit into what seemed to be a small corner of the woods. All sorts of shops and stalls lined the street we were currently on, but one in particular caught my eye. 

“Jaskier, look!” I grabbed his arm and pointed in the direction of the stall I wanted to see. “There’s a woman selling flower crowns over there. They’re so pretty, I want to see them up close.”

I dragged him along behind me before he could say anything. 

He laughed and said, “We’ve gone into so many towns and seen so many things before, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited.”

“Well, today is different!”

There’s that word again...different. 

He smiled and my heart seemed to stop in my chest.

“Yeah, it is.” 

We finally approached the stall where the woman had her flower crowns laid out. There were so many different colors and flowers, I hardly knew where to look first. 

“Jaskier, which one would suit me? I don’t even know where to start, they’re all so lovely.” 

He looked around at the vast display in front of us, seemingly deep in thought. Then his eyes twinkled and he reached forward to a crown made out of small yellow buttercups and tiny clumps of white baby’s breath. 

Before I could say what I thought, he leaned down and placed it gently on my head, adjusting it so it would sit straight. 

“What do you think?” I asked, holding my skirts and spinning around in a circle dramatically. 

Jaskier thought for a moment, his finger pressed gently against his chin in concentration. 

“I think it was made for you, dear lady.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and I hoped to the gods Jaskier didn’t see. In order to conceal it, I turned to the merchant who was watching us with an amused look on her face. 

“How much for this one?” I asked, pointing to the crown on my head. 

“Twelve marks,” she replied. 

I dug around in my pockets for the money, but stopped when I felt a hand on my arm. 

I turned and saw Jaskier was the one who had placed his hand on my arm, but his other hand was in the pocket of his trousers. 

“I’ve got it,” he said with a half-smile. 

Before I could protest, he handed the woman her money and thanked her. 

“Jaskier! What did you do that for? You know I don’t like people spending their own money on me.” 

He began to walk away, and I followed, almost jogging to keep up with his long strides. 

“Then pretend I didn’t do it,” he quipped over his shoulder at me. 

Finally I caught up to him and walked at his side. 

“Jaskier!” 

The bard smiled down at me. 

“If you feel that badly about it, then buy me something in return. We’re best friends, remember? Or have you forgotten that revelation we came to already?”

No witty response came to mind. So instead, I settled on thanking him. 

“It was my pleasure, (Y/N).” 

At some point, we made it to the town square. Some sort of celebration was going on, and everyone was dancing around while a group of musicians played an up beat song made for parties. 

“Eh, I’ve heard better versions of this song. One done by yours truly, of course,” Jaskier said as he wiggled his eyebrows at me. 

I pushed his arm lightly. 

“Jaskier, the only thing bigger than your ego is your head”

“There are some women out there who might disagree,” he said with a wink.

“Gross!”

All of a sudden, someone roughly grabbed my arm and turned me around, pulling me further away from where I was standing with Jaskier. 

I shrieked in surprise and Jaskier yelled for me, reaching out with one hand, a startled look on his face. But before I was spun around again, I saw someone grab him too. 

Then I noticed who grabbed me. A breathless young man, probably about my age. He had his hands in mine and was twisting me about the square. I realized that I been pulled into the dance by accident. 

“You know, you should really ask permission from someone before you grab them for a dance!” I yelled over the music and commotion. 

“Do forgive me! Once you’re in the thick of this dance, you can’t help but become impulsive.”

Against my better judgement, I started actually performing the dance as well. I suppose the man had a point. At events like these with the music, the wine, and the people, you tend to get carried away. I must have looked like I was waiting for my turn in the throng of people. 

Once I let myself relax and the feeling of panic left me, I began laughing with the man in front of me. It was fun. I don’t remember the last time I had danced and celebrated something. Whatever it is the people in the square were celebrating seemed important. 

We stumbled and twirled about, passing other dancing couples. It was so unbelievably loud. But it was a good type of loudness. The kind that made me giddy and feeling as if I was floating. 

Part of this dance was to switch partners every few rounds in order to get everyone into it and to meet new people. Meeting new people wasn’t really my thing, and I slowly started to feel more and more drained and nervous as the dance went on. All good things must come to an end, I suppose.

I had been thrown into another man’s arms now, the first one I was dancing with long gone. But I just wanted to find Jaskier. Or even Geralt. Someone familiar. 

The song was coming to a close which meant this dance was also ending. But there was still no sign of Jaskier anywhere. In my defense though, there were so many people and it was hard to focus on a specific person when you were in the middle of something so chaotic. 

At the last second, I was shoved into someone else’s arms, right as the song came to an end. My hands gripped his forearms to steady myself, although my vision was still reeling. 

“I’m so sorry! I’m not used to these types of dances,” I mumbled before trying to focus on the man before me. 

Lo and behold, it was Jaskier himself, looking almost as unsteady as I felt.

“(Y/N),” he said, out of breath, “Thank the gods I finally found you. I thought you had been kidnapped.” 

My vision finally settled, and I looked up at his face to get a better look at the state he was in. 

His hair was disheveled and a bit of sweat made his face shine in the evening light. He was breathless, breathing through his lips with an exhausted smile. The shirt underneath his doublet had fallen to the side a bit, exposing the dark hair that decorated his chest. With each rise and fall of his chest, my pulse increased slightly. I caught myself wondering what his heartbeat sounded like. How it would feel to have my hand resting on his chest as he breathed and talked. What would it have been like to dance only with him? Then I felt myself become sad, and almost angry that I hadn’t been dancing with him. But more than anything, I realized that this isn’t how best friends think about each other. 

I blinked rapidly to get myself out of my thoughts. 

“Jaskier, let’s get out of here. I’m exhausted. Please.”

[romaniangothic]

oc profile

thank u @vronism for the tag ^^ gonna tag @takeoutnight @ranishoo @spud1234556 @saevus-brutalis @gothgaycowboy

if u did ur v i might as well do mine cus if i don't write down my thoughts ill just forget em 💀

tws for mentions of suicide/overdosing/selfharm/child abuse

General

Name: Axel V. Graves (yes, the V stands for something. no, he won't tell)

Alias(es): grim reaper (unwillingly), ax or axe, smartass/idiot/asshole etc etc (by both johnny and kerry lmao)

Gender: nonbinary trans man (he/they)

Age: 47 as of 2077

Birthdate: 10th june 2030

Place of birth: Night City

Hometown: Night City. he can't stay away from this place

Spoken languages: native in english but also knows enough japanese to hold somewhat of a conversation. some russian he picked from his dad, too

Sexual preference: gay (possibly demisexual? he only realizes it now 💀)

Occupation: petty thief (2046-2053), backstage tech dude? idk (2053-2055) merc but mostly a hitman (2056-2075), guitarist for some indie band (Atlanta, 2075-2077) merc again (2077-2078), idk, maybe he'll go back to doing music stuff. maybe with kerry this time 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (2078-??????)

Appearance

Eye colour: used to have brown eyes but he has mods in them now. he now has all black scleras with yellow irises and slit pupils (basically just freaky cat eyes)

Hair colour: naturally black. he's greying in 2077 but he dyes it so you wouldn't really know

Height: 6'4 / 193 cm

Scars: bunch of sh scars that were mostly covered by either chrome or tattoos. some he either got in brawls or when he was a dumbass teen

Favourite

Colour: mostly darker colors (reds and stuff maybe?)

Hair colour: just his natural one, he never really had others. (definitely doesn't like his white hair but he does think it looks hot on a certain someone)

Song: black holes (solid ground) by the blue stones (not really a favorite song, just the song i associate with him the most. he has a whole playlist actually)

Food: he's not really picky but he does have a thing for sweets (is that technically food? no)

Drink: just inject coffee straight into his veins, that'd be fine

Have They…

Passed university: never even finished middle school

Gotten pregnant: no, and he'd rather keep it that away so he definitely had surgery/mods for it as soon as he could (or whatever they do in the future)

Kissed a boy: too many

Kissed a girl: once or twice when he was a teen

Gotten tattoos: a whole bunch of em (i'm designing them rn and weeping)

Been in love: yep (derogatory)

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: he doesn't believe in sleep

Are They…

A virgin: nope and that's all i'm saying on nsfw stuff 💀. man's a bigger whore than johnny, im sure of it

A cuddler: only sometimes. he's pretty touch averse

A kisser: yeah but mostly on knuckles/cheeks/neck places like that. likes giving more than receiving tbh

Scared easily: can't afford to be in his line of business. there Are certain things that'll get to him tho 👁

Jealous easily: if there's enough communication, no

In love: yes, much to his dismay

Single: yes and no. he complicates things with both kerry and johnny for absolutely no reason 🤧

Random Questions (TW: Self harm/suicide mention)

Have they harmed themselves: yes and he still does. he'd rather not talk about it

Thought of suicide: all his life (he gets better i promise)

Attempted suicide: definitely more than once. first one was probably at 12 or something like that. latest one was around 2077-2078

Wanted to kill someone: yes and has. will do it again most likely

Have/had a job: way too many to count tbh

Have any fears: people he cares about getting hurt because of him. sharp knife-like objects as well

Family

Sibling(s): he was an only child

Parent(s): i never thought about naming them even though they're big parts of the reason axel is the way he is today 💀 his mom that died of a drug overdose when he was pretty young and his piece of shit dad that he killed at 13

Children: absolutely not. he's too scared of becoming like his dad

Significant other: kerry (affectionate) and johnny (derogatory)

Pet(s): Nibbles the cat my beloved (he wanted to call the cat johnny but human johnny didn't appreciate it too much)

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 9 (Kiro) Final Part [Delayed Answer] & [Fissure] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

Here’s the rest of Kiro’s story from Season 2 chapter 9

For the previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 9: Part 1

Enjoy~

[Delayed Answer]

The day of the new song conference finally came to a successful conclusion.

Thinking that I could finally go home and rest at ease, I suddenly received a message from Savin, asking me to bring Kiro to the company right away.

After listening to my retelling, Kiro’s smile immediately froze on his face as if he got caught sneaking out for barbecue.

Kiro: Savin will definitely give me three hours of ideological education.

Kiro: ….Or I’ll just slip away and say that my stomach hurts.

MC: It doesn’t matter, I will help you intercede.

Kiro sighed. After thinking long and hard, he quickly aligned with me and prepared to proactively explain his mistakes.

Pushing open the door of the company, gold foil ribbons suddenly fell from the ceiling and cheers came one after another to my ears.

Kiro and I were stunned in place, surrounded by everyone.

Kiki: Congratulations to our company’s successfully held new song release conference by the ace artist, Kiro!

Willow: We did it!!!

The company is full of lights and festoons and the banners of “Today’s New Year” is displayed everywhere.

Kiro was pushed to the center of the crowd, surrounded by balloons, ribbons, and flowers. Soon, a huge cake was pushed in front of him.

Behind him was a long row of tables filled with tempting cupcakes and carbonated drinks.

A few golden letter balloons were fixed on the wall, piecing together the words “KILO”.

It turns out that everyone thought that Kiro rarely showed up these days because of the sullenness of the last storm so they prepared this surprise to cheer him up.

Kiro: Scared me to death…I thought I came to receive ideological education.

Savin: Don’t worry, there will be time for that later. ***Changed some wording***

With everyone’s urging, Kiro blew out the candles on the cake.

Kiro: Thanks, everyone!

His smile in the candlelight was captured by the camera. At this moment, the whole world is full of hope and life like never before.

After the celebration banquet, Kiro and I went to the company’s terrace for some fresh air.

As the sun sets, the evening breeze gently takes away the remaining warmth.

MC: Can you tell me now…?

MC: How did the “last-minute superhero” Kiro stop the train?

Kiro: It’s actually very simple. I briefly hacked into the car’s control system and activated the emergency braking function.

Kiro: As long as the startup program is disrupted, the train will be able to stop.

MC: What! I didn’t think of that before!

Kiro: The most important thing is that the boy changed his mind. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked even if I typed many lines of code.

MC: You’re right, but fortunately, he was not brainwashed by the people of GRAY RHINO.

Kiro: Because his heart has never changed.

Kiro: He lost his way and fell into a quagmire. All he needed was someone to pull him out.

Kiro: Therefore, we have also agreed that no one will say a word about what happened today.

The wind lifted his hair on his forehead and the eyes that looked at me were shining.

I nodded solemnly.

MC: No matter what, I will support your decision.

MC: What’s more, during that plane accident, he  changed his mind in the end and saved the person on that flight.

The real culprit is GRAY RHINO. They took advantage of this boy’s pain and weakness to achieve their goals.

If today’s crisis wasn’t resolved, perhaps the contradiction between Evolvers and ordinary people will incite into an unprecedented degree….

Thinking of this, my mind suddenly fell into a daze.

CORE is like a stone thrown by an invisible hand, constantly stirring up even bigger ripples. I’m also more and more certain that the most critical variable in this world is CORE.

But for most people in this world, some of them choose to move forward and some choose to retreat.

Some people stay where they are, while others are lost and don’t know where to go.

Therefore, there are many people with inconsistent paces and different destinations.

The history of this world is written by everyone, but not everyone’s fate will be recorded.

Can their voices be heard? Can these meager destinies be included in the “beautiful future” pursued by this society?

Regardless of whether it is B.S., the Special Task Force, GRAY RHINO, these self-regulated people at the forefront, how can they frame the correct choice at every step….

Kiro: What are you thinking about? Why do you show such an unhappy expression again?

I shook my head.

MC: I was just thinking that the pain I felt from that boy might only be one thousandth or one ten thousandth of how he felt.

I was able to see his past memories, but I can’t 100% feel his current pain.

Kiro put down the soda can, rested his hands on the railing, and looked at me quietly.

Kiro: Will MC suffer because of her own abilities?

I thought for a moment and shook my head seriously.

MC: Only when you are close to suffering, you are closer to reality.

MC: Isn’t it cowardly if you ignore the facts because you are afraid of pain?

MC: And so….

Before I finished speaking, Kiro suddenly took my hand and gently placed it on top of his head.

His tousled hair brushes my palm, ticklish. I looked at him, puzzled.

Kiro: Then MC can also feel my memory.

The corners of his eyes were bent, and the golden color of the setting sun seemed to flicker in his eyes.

Kiro: Since you have the ability to perceive pain, you should also have the same right to perceive happiness.

I stared blankly at him and couldn’t help but blurt out.

MC: Are you happy?

Kiro: Mm. When I’m by your side, I am happy.

MC: Is this comfort?

Kiro shook his head, giving me a serious expression.

Kiro: Not comfort, but a promise. By your side, I am happy.

The wind rustled the hair on his forehead, revealing his starry eyes and the sincere gentleness in them.

Kiro: But speaking of the topic just now, I also have a question for MC.

His tone suddenly became a little lighter.

Kiro: “If you don’t hurt people, you will be hurt”… what would you do with this choice?

MC: In fact, someone once told me this answer.

I looked into his eyes, as if I could feel a warm feeling pouring into my heart.

MC: He should be the one who chooses the latter without hesitation , but he can always get himself out of the situation.

Fresh and vivid memories. Some are complete. Some are fragmented and they converge like a river of flowing into the sea of memories little by little.

MC: But there is something he is a bit bad about—he likes to keep the secret until the end.

MC: …So I didn’t know for a long time after arriving.

Kiro blinked and suddenly sneezed twice in succession.

Kiro: Is someone speaking ill of me behind my back….?

I chuckled, the last regret in my heart seemed to disappear with the wind.

MC: Given that these days are so unlucky, let us be superstitious for a bit.

I took out a coin and put it in the palm of my hand, muttering something to the night sky.

MC: If it’s positive, it means something good will happen. If it’s negative, it means something generally good will happen----

Kiro: Miss Chips is so greedy. But----what if it’s in the middle?

MC: What a coincidence!

I retorted righteously and tossed the coin up while talking.

The silver coin drew an arc in the air. I held my breath and waited without blinking for the coin to fall back into my palm.

That’s when a cold gust of wind came and caught me off guard. With a shake of my hand, the coin slipped through my fingers. ***Changed some wording***

MC: !

Kiro clutched his stomach and laughed, but I could only watch the coin fall downstairs.

MC: Unexpectedly, there is such a thing as bad luck…

Hearing me sigh, he stopped laughing and looked at me seriously and tenderly.

Kiro: Maybe God thinks that this answer should not be revealed now.

Kiro: So, let us leave everything to the unknown tomorrow.

[Fissure]

The night is dark, like a deep ocean with turbulent undercurrents and unknown crises lurking within.

The old streets that no one cares about in the city form a narrow, unnamed area. Only a few dirty, industrial buildings stand here.

This is the Secret Research Institute of B.S.

I hurried out of the elevator, walked through the dark corridor, and opened one of the hidden doors.

I put the documents in my hand on the table and told the B.S. researchers who looked at each other.

MC: Help me find something.

MC: Without my permission, do not disclose it to anyone and do not tell anyone that I have been here.

MC: Including BOSS.

B.S. Researcher: But Miss Nox, this is not compliant—

MC: Don’t forget that I have the first level permission of B.S.

The winter seems to have sneaked into the city quietly and every narrow street has been immersed in the precipitous chill.

When I left this building, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The roof of the building in the distance seemed to glint with a hint of pure silver, almost melting into the moonlight.

I couldn’t help but look back, only to find that the streak of silver was gone.

A black shadow flashed in the night sky, and it quickly melted into the dark.

All the hustle and bustle in the city, the noise of people underneath.

As the cold wind passed by, he stared at the street where he lived alone in the night, holding his breath for the appearance of a figure.

??: Helios, it’s time for you to act.

Helios: I’m not doing things for you. You’re not qualified to order me.

The person on the opposite end sighed softly.

??: There has always been a big misunderstanding between us. In other words, between B.S. and GRAY RHINO.

??: I hope that our future cooperation can be built on the basis of mutual trust.

Helios: The assumption is that you don’t do unnecessary stupid things.

Helios: If you want to get something like that, just do as I say.

Helios cut off the call impatiently, and the man’s hypocritical voice made him feel very disgusted.

As far as he can see, a figure finally walks out of the building’s door.

He watched the figure until the girl disappeared into the night.

He pressed his lips, pulled the rope fixed to his waist, and jumped off the billboard.

The dark figure jumped vigorously, following the rope in his hand, simply and neatly, and quietly entered the building from the window.

??: Who are you!

Helios: Don’t move.

The researcher who had just picked up the gun was caught off guard against the man’s golden eyes, and suddenly his fingers on the trigger were unable to exert force.

The man played with the knife in his hand, walked to the table, and his eyes fell on the experimental report.

Helios: Did she only leave this thing?

B.S. Researcher: …..

Helios: Answer me.

The golden light flashed in the man’s eyes, and his raised voice was like an unsheathed coldness.

This invisible power. His vocal cord muscles contracted uncontrollably and a word was slowly squeezed out of his throat.

B.S. Researcher: ….Yes.

He finally remembered the identity of the man in front of him and the legends about him circulating in the organization.

B.S. Researcher: You, you are….

Before he could recall his name, the man had already turned around.

Under the dim light, he suddenly turned his head and the corner of his mouth formed into a mocking arc.

Helios: I command you all—

Helios: Forget everything that happened just now.

“The train will be arriving shortly, please stand behind the safety line and wait in an orderly manner…”

The first ray of morning light came into the platform. The boy remembered yesterday’s ordeal and subconsciously took a step back.

But soon, what the blond man had said, rang in his ears--

Kiro: Those who use past experiences to deny themselves are cowardly people.

Kiro: Don’t believe in the stories told by others, let alone the signs of the destiny you have altered.

These words shone like a beam of light into the abyss of his heart.

He made up his mind that no matter what the people in that organization say, he will not waver, let alone contact them again.

Thinking of this, he took a lively step forward.

He can do anything that makes him strong. Such as, submitting a transfer application form. Or give a severe beating to those who bullied him in the past.

And his Evol should be his booster, taking him to farther destinations, just like the train he is about to board.

The train stopped in front of the platform. The sound of running tracks overwhelmed the small sound of bullets in the air as well as the sound of the boy hitting the ground.

The gunpowder smoke from the muzzle quickly dissipated into the air like white mist from the breaths of pedestrians in winter.

The train doors opened and a few passengers stepped out of the carriage, yawning.

Soon, screams and chaotic footsteps filled the entire station.

The tall man standing at the top of the stairs grinned slightly, his smile fleeting. He put the gun into his sleeve and turned briskly to leave.

??: Mission completed.

The passengers panicked as messy, bloody foot-prints were left on the floor tiles.

??: The bait is ready and the fish should be hooked.

[mira--mira]

...i think that i remember that you had gone and had mentioned somewhere that hashi has got four mothers, like not all of them at once i'm sure, but i guess for different au's that you have got? so the soulmate au with hagane, then kuuru from boaf au, then kiyomi for oot au and whoever the last one is supposed to be! i've got to say that your worldbuilding is just awesome how you have come up with all of that and how detailed that it is

I did! I mentioned it when I posted the two Kou’s I drew but never got around to finishing that piece, LOL. I have my design references and they’re rough but I’ll post them.

Anon, it blows my mind that you kept track of all the oc moms 🥺 and just for you I will reveal the fourth mom! (though with the valentine’s one-shot it may bump up to five unless I decide to use Kiyomi there too LOL) This is a short breakdown and in order of who’s most likely to murder Butsuma at any given point. Why is that my mom-ranking system? I don’t know, but it is. 

Hagane (Two Hearts, Tied Together aka soulmate au)

The quintessential terrifying mom who loves her kids but will kill anyone who threatens them. She’s skilled in genjutsu, long-range weapons (kunai, senbon, shuriken), and sensory techniques. I love Hagane, she’s one of my favorite characters I’ve ever made but it’s very hard to put her in any aus because 1. she will murder Butsuma or 2. she’ll abscond with the Senju kids and throw the plot into disarray. 

Kiyomi (Out of Time) 

Kiyomi’s actually a mix of Kuuru and Busuko in terms of looks/skills. Since she’s from Uzushio she knows fuinjutsu, in addition to being skilled in suitons and poisons (though she was mostly a healer, not a poisoner). Kiyomi has generally become my “base” for Hashirama’s moms despite her being created last. She’s a good middle ground of a warm, caring figure who also will do anything to protect her kids.

Busuko (Birds of a Feather)

Ah the mysterious fourth mom! We haven’t gotten to Busuko yet because I am behind in writing for BoaF but hopefully this answers some questions to those who are curious! Busuko is not Hashirama’s biological mother. Since so much of that fic is about exploring cultures and I plan to bring in Uzushio in a decently big way, Hashirama is the biological son of Kuuru, an Uzumaki. I mentioned in the last BoaF chapter there were two options for the Senju to deal with Kou 1. marry Butsuma to an Uzumaki for their sealing or 2. marry him to another clan with a water affinity strong enough to counter her. Busuko is from that second clan and was the option Butsuma first wanted to go with before the elders refused. That’s because while Busuko is a strong suiton specialist and a sensor she is, first and foremost, a poisoner and has a kekkei genkai that negates poison for her but makes her blood one of the most poisonous substances in the world. All that said, I’ve read a few fics where if Hashirama and Tobirama have different biological mothers, Tobirama’s is vilified to hell and back and that is not how this plays out. Busuko and Butsuma were in love before the Senju elders made their decision and while Kuuru did die early, Hashirama was a product of that union (ie one of the bigger reasons Butsuma dislikes him in this au.) But Busuko adopted him and considered him her own son and absolutely abhorred Butsuma’s attitude/treatment towards him. They fought about it a lot before she died and that’s why she’s third on this list instead of fourth. 

Kuuru (Birds of a Feather)

Hashirama’s biological mom and Butsuma’s first wife. Kuuru is the youngest sister of Ashina and was married off when she was seventeen. (I know that realistically this kind of marriage would have been with an even younger girl but I already feel ill at imagining a seventeen-year-old getting married so I won’t go lower.) It was completely political and she didn’t like Butsuma but wasn’t in a position to say no. In their short marriage they generally avoided each other, especially after she got pregnant. Kuuru was an Uzumaki so she specialized in fuinjutsu and was one an up and coming sealmaster and historian, in addition to having a small water affinity. She died shortly after Hashirama was born due to complications from his birth. 

I honestly adore worldbuilding and figuring out how events before the story impact it from the start! (It’s also therapeutic to add in multiple moms bc canon refuses to acknowledge them!) 

[endof-theline]

Day 27-Tropetember: Quarantine/Locked In

Day 27 of super early Tropetember with Quarantine/Locked In! Steve and Bucky are forced to isolate after mission, it's just poor timing that Tony had come down with the flu while they were away...

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32862223

If Bruce had to hear either the super soldier duo or Tony whine one more time, he was going to have to spend time in the Hulk-proof room. The soldiers had gone on a mission to a Hydra base and their scientists had released a gas through the building that hadn’t done anything to the pair that they could tell but Bruce wasn’t risking it without a hell of a lot of testing and several showers, especially with Tony in his own quarantine currently.

Tony had managed to pick up the flu from somewhere and with his awful immune system Bruce didn’t want him in contact with everyone else who could be carrying god knows what on them, Jarvis was happy to help locking Tony in the penthouse and only letting Bruce up to help look after him.

Normally having two separate teammates in quarantine at the same time wasn’t the big of a deal, but unfortunately for Bruce this wasn’t like when Natasha and Clint had to be separate from each other and the team. Steve, Bucky and Tony had been dating for almost a year and they were lucky until now that no one had to isolate themselves, but it was also the first time Tony was seriously ill since they had started dating and it had come on during their mission so there was nothing they could have done for him.

“Is their quarantine almost over?” Tony rasped hopefully, he had managed to get out of bed today but he was still sitting on the sofa with blankets surrounding him and was still trying to refuse food.

“Almost Tony, I’m hoping that I can release them tomorrow and I’ll get Jarvis to do a full scan to make sure they’re safe before sending them up to you. If I send them up, I would want you to isolate with them, is that alright?” Bruce asked softly as he gently brushed Tony’s hair out of his eyes, sitting by his side and letting Tony worm into his arms.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Just miss them so bad, Brucie” Tony nodded before letting out a little whimper as he shivered with the chills that racked his body, Bruce hugged him tighter and let Tony rest his head on his shoulder.

“I know and I’m trying to get them here as quickly as possible for you, I just don’t want to risk you getting even worse and having to be locked up here longer” Bruce hummed as he grabbed the bowl of soup making Tony whine sadly but sit up a little from his bundle of blankets “Feeling hungry today?” “A little” Tony mumbled quietly as he took the bowl in his hands and carefully ate the gently flavoured soup, Bruce knew that if it was tasteless Tony would hate it but his stomach couldn’t take too much right now so it had been an experiment to find a balance that Tony would eat happily “Tastes good”

“I’m glad, hopefully you’ll be able to keep it down” Bruce smiled at him as he gently ran his fingers through Tony’s sweaty hair, he had planned on getting Tony to have a wash today and knowing how upset Tony would be at seeing his boyfriends while he was all gross definitely pushed that idea to the front of Bruce’s mind.

Once Tony was cleaned up and fed, Bruce had made sure that Tony also had snacks, water and his tablet with him to make sure that Tony didn’t need to move around too much; Bruce marched down to his lab to try and finish off the tests he needed to do before releasing Steve and Bucky.

It was two in the morning when Bruce managed to finish his tests and the man was close to falling asleep at his desk when the equipment he was using beeped at him to let him know it was done. The tests cleared Bucky and Steve from their quarantine so Bruce asked Jarvis to notify the pair as soon as they were awake that they could leave, and after a shower and a full body scan from Jarvis they were also cleared to stay with Tony.

The gas had turned out to be a fairly strong knock-out gas, but wasn’t strong enough to affect either of them or at least noticeable effect them so they hadn’t needed to isolate but no one blamed Bruce for being careful of unknown Hydra gases.

Six AM sharp, Steve woke up and shortly after Bucky was awake and grumbling about being awake, until Jarvis’ voice ran out through the guest room “Good morning, Captain, Sergeant, Doctor Banner has given you the all clear to leave but has requested that you shower and allow me to do a full scan of you before seeing Mister Stark”

“Thank you Jarvis, that’s great news!” Steve cheered happily and that news pulled Bucky out of the bed as he sped into their bathroom “Eager to see our sick boyfriend, Buck?”

“You bet I am, I’m about to compare you and Tony and see who is the worst sick boyfriend out of you two” Bucky called from the bathroom before Steve could hear the shower running, there was a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Tony’s that told Steve to get in the shower with Bucky, but the blonde resisted the temptation knowing that they needed to be actually clean before seeing Tony.

Tony groaned as he woke up, feeling the weight of sickness still on his chest and the chills still shaking his body before he could hear a voice that he had been dying to hear for days “Hey sweetheart, you wanna wake up for us”

“Bucky?” Tony mumbled as he blinked open his eyes to see Bucky sat on his bed, the man smiling down at him before Bucky was cooing at him and running his fingers through Tony’s hair “You here to stay?”

“Sure am, doll, Stevie and I are gonna take care of you now” Bucky nodded before he was helping Tony to sit up and lean into his chest, wrapping blankets around Tony when the smaller man kept shaking in his arms “Steve’s just making you some food to eat and then he’ll be here with us”

“Missed you both” Tony sniffled as he nuzzled into Bucky’s chest making the bigger brunette coo at him “Missed you so much, wish I wasn’t sick when you came back”

“It’s okay, Tones, you wouldn’t have been able to see us even if you were healthy” Steve said as he walked into the room with a smile on his face and sat on the other side of Tony, Bruce had told Steve to try getting Tony to eat some toast and had told him that Tony might respond better to him and Bucky eating with him “Bruce said you might like toast so I thought we could all eat together, Bucky and I haven’t eaten yet today either”

“Not had toast yet since I’ve been sick, not sure it’ll stay down” Tony's voice was quiet and shy as he kept his head on Bucky's chest, eyes down as he messed with his pile of blankets.

"That's okay, we'll be so proud of you if you can try for us" Bucky cooed before Steve passed him a piece of toast and Bucky took a big bite out of it, Steve handed Tony a piece as well before eating his own piece "Come on, Tony, eat up"

"Don't want to be sick" Tony grumbled but as Bucky held him closer, he took a small bite of his breakfast and laughed a little when Steve cheered a little "You gonna be my cheerleader, Stevie?"

"If that what it takes to get you better, then yeah Tones, I'll be your personal cheerleader" Steve chuckles before leaning over to Tony and pressing a kiss to his cheek, Tony turned with wide eyes as he goes to protest "Buck and I can't get the flu and we're all clear, it's okay sweetheart"

"But I'm gross" Tony whined as he gently pushed Steve's face away from his, making Bucky laugh before dropping a kiss on the top of Tony's head.

"You're never gross to us, doll" Bucky teased before Tony hit his chest weakly with a whine in his throat “None of that, you’re our sick boy and we’re going to take care of you, even if you try and push us away”

Tony whined again but ate his toast slowly as both Steve and Bucky ate more beside him, and as much as Tony protested against their help much like he had done with Bruce, Steve and Bucky stayed with him the entire time. Bucky quickly found that Tony was easier to deal with when he was sick since the smaller man just wanted to be held and only pushed them away when he was feeling really rough, whereas Steve had fought him against everything Bucky did to try and help him when he was sick.

It was when Tony was almost over his illness that he heard the pair of soldiers whispering above his head as he tried to nap through the day, a smile spreading across his face as he turned into the pillow.

“I really love him, Buck, I don’t know what I would have done if he wasn’t getting better”

“I don’t know either, been a long time since I had to worry ‘bout that sorta thing, but I’m gone on him too”

“Just gotta hope he feels the same” Steve hummed as he brushed Tony’s hair back from his face carefully, Tony peaked an eye open to look up at the blonde who startled for a moment.

“Love you both too” He muttered before squealing as Steve pressed kisses all over his face, Bucky laughing behind him as he watched fondly. Watching his boys tease each other swiftly stopped any of the negative thoughts of Tony leaving them that had bubbled up during their own quarantine period, hearing Tony say how he feels and seeing how he smiled at the pair of them wiped out the rest of his concerns.

In sickness or in health, together or apart, it was going to take a lot more than that to split the trio up.

[xanican-exile]

Interview the Muse

Do all of them

Long post under the cut

- What is your Full name? Include any maiden names, aliases, or nicknames.

”Venix Savreux. My last name is Mornese, I guess that must be where my mother was from. Its a country a bit to the east of Xanica.” - When is your birthday? Do you know where you were born and at what time?

”I’m actually not sure. I know that my birthday is a few weeks before the first snowfalls, but rangers didn’t really have calendars out in the Wyrmswood.”

- What is your star sign? Do you know your Chinese Zodiac too?

“I don’t know what that means.”

- What is your earliest memory that you can remember?

“My... Mother wiping a bloody scrape on my cheek. I’m really young, can’t be more than 4 or 5? It hurts a lot but I won’t let myself cry. Babies cry, but I won’t. She’s chiding me for getting in a fight, especially with two boys that are bigger than me. But I think a little part of her is proud. They were making fun of me for being a whore’s son.”

- Where was your childhood home? Was it more urban or rural?

“I was born in docks quarter of Esklay, one of the big port cities in Xanica.”

- How was your childhood in general? Did your parents treat you well? Did you have a lot of friends?

“My mother and I didn’t have much. She was a whore, no idea who my dad was, and I wasn’t exactly around there long enough to make friends.”

“Things got a lot better when I joined the rangers though.”

- How was/is school? What is your favorite and least favorite subjects? What were your grades on average?

“I didn’t go to school, but I was trained to be a ranger from the time I was... 8, 9? Something like that. I know I was ranked pretty high among the cadets, I was the top in sword skills, but everyone else that would join my pack was better than me in at least one thing.”

- Did you have a best friend growing up? What was their name? Are you still in touch?

“No, no I’m not in contact with any of them. Vex, Rand, Mako, Velite, Ilia. They.. They aren’t around anymore.”

- Were you in any cliques?

“We were encouraged to become close to small groups, they would become our pack once our training was finished.”

- Best childhood memory you can recall?

“The day my pack became full rangers.”

- Worst childhood memory you can recall?

“... My mom dying.”

- Name an event in your childhood that has shaped you into the person you are today

“Probably the day I was found by the rangers. After my mom died I ran from home, didn’t know where I was going, too young to think beyond getting away. I think it was a few weeks of being on my own, barely surviving on scraps. I guess I was going north, because I eventually ended up in the Wyrmswood. I don’t know how, it’s hundreds of miles from where Esklay is on the coast, must have ended up in one of its southernmost reaches. I.. I ended up passing out around a ranger campfire, barely noticing the people watching me. A lot of lost kids, orphans, bastards, and street rats end up as rangers, but I’ve never heard of any others stumbling on them like I did. Its probably happened, Xanica is pretty big, but I’ve never heard of it. Anyway, when I woke up they fed me, tended to my wounds, and teased my story out of me. I remember one of them asking me if I would like to be strong enough to never let something like this happen again. I took his offer without a second thought.”

- What is the dumbest thing you have ever done to impress someone? Were they impressed or was it all for naught?

“I guess there was a couple times when I was still training that I tried to go off on my own, hunt things I wasn’t ready to to impress our masters. Only took a couple beatings before I stopped doing that though.”

- Did you ever have any sweethearts or lovers? Do you have a boy/girlfriend?

“Not really. I’m on the road a lot, going from place to place. I don’t get time to get close to a girl like that. There is this one bard I seem to keep running into though..”

- Are you a virgin?

“No.”

- Do you ever plan on getting married in your life? Do you want kids?

“I’ve.. never really thought about that. I guess no. Having a family or getting married doesn’t sound like something I can do.”

- Would you rather have your own kids or adopt? How many kids would you want?

“I don’t really have a preference, its hard for my to imagine doing either.”

- Do you think you'd be a protective parent or a relaxed parent?

“I don’t think I’d be a very good one.”

- How would you prefer to pass away? Surrounded by loved ones and at peace, or while doing something heroic?

“Definitely fighting. I want whatever takes me down to remember how much of a struggle it was to kill me.”“

- Generally, how healthy are you? Do you get sick or injured easily or are you fit?

“I do everything I can to stay in peak physical condition. Doing otherwise would mean I end up dead in my line of work.”

- Have you ever been badly injured before?

“Several times. You don’t fight monsters for over a decade without collecting a fair share of scars.”

- What is the worst injury you have ever gotten? What was it and how did it happen? Were you ever close to death?

“This one right here. Those three slashes across my chest? Those are from a Wyrmling. Its like a wyvern but flightless and with four legs. I had to hunt one on my own once. Those claws destroyed my armor, but I would have been turned to paste if I hadn’t been wearing it.”

- How many times have you been to the hospital/doctor's?

“I haven’t been to many hospitals. Those are for sick people, but I’ve had to visit a lot of surgeons and healers over the years to get stitched up or have other wounds treated. I’ve never tried counting how many times I’ve been to those.”

- Have you ever had a concussion or brain injury? Have you ever had amnesia?

“I’ve had more than a few concussions, but I don’t think I’ve ever had amnesia or a serious brain injury, thankfully.”

“...I should really get a helmet.”

- What was the worst illness you ever contacted? Do you know what it was? How long were you sick?

“I don’t know what it was, but there was one time that I was stuck in bed for over a week as a child. It happens sometimes to cadets, they weren’t sure I’d survive, but I proved stronger than they expected.”

- Ever had any extended hospital stays? What for?

“Didn’t I already answer this?”

- Have you ever had to give yourself or someone else emergency first aid? What happened?

“Multiple times. Sometimes they lived, sometimes they didn’t.”

- Are you employed? Where do you work and who do you work for? What do you do?

“I guess you could call me a mercenary. Since leaving Xanica I’ve made my living going from place to place dealing with bandits, poachers, and monsters. Once or twice I’ve been hired to stay on a noble’s estates for a season to keep it guarded. Those jobs are boring, but pay best.”

- Are you happy with your current job?

“...No. Most of it is just busywork. I do it because its what I know, because its closest to what I used to do. But I wish I had something more meaningful to use my skills for.”

- Did you have any previous jobs? What were they and what did you do?

“I was raised to be a ranger. Its what I did until leaving Xanica about 2 years ago.”

- Most dangerous thing you have ever done?

“That’s hard to say. I’ve been involved in a lot of dangerous things. The expedition into the Divide might be at the top though.”

- Do you consider yourself a more active person or a more relaxed person?

“Definitely more active. I’m not good at sitting around doing nothing for than a day or so.”

- What is your dream come true? How about your worst nightmare?

“My... My nightmare already happened. My dream would be for my pack to be alive.”

- What is the biggest and most important goal you have set for yourself?

“To never let what happened to the rangers happen to someone else.”

- How persistent would you say you are? How much does it take to get you to give up on a task?

“I’d like to say I don’t give up easy, but I guess I’ve already given in on the stuff that matters.”

- Would you surrender yourself to your enemies or fight to the very end?

“Fight. I won’t run again, not while there is something I can still do.”

- When do you usually do your shopping? What is currently on your shopping list?

“Usually between jobs, or right after I finish one. Right now I need to get myself some new rope, hardtack, my cloak stitched, and a pan for cooking.”

- Top three things on your wishlist?

“Wyvernhide leather cuirass, a pair of those new glyph inscribed boots that resist water, and a warm chocolate mint drink.”

- Currently, what is something you want but do not need?

“A warm chocolate mint drink “

- Do you like shopping? What is your favorite thing to shop for?

“I don’t know if I like shopping, but I don’t dislike it either, its just something I have to do.”

- What is the most expensive thing you have purchased? Was it worth it?

“My mail shirt. Absolutely worth it, saved my life more than once.”

- What would you do if you were suddenly given one billion dollars out of the blue?

“I’m not sure. I don’t really buy a lot of luxuries. Maybe I would purchase a keep or something? A place to winter at when the roads get snowed over.”

- What would you describe your style of clothing as?

“Practical.”

- Do you have any hobbies? Name all of them if you can.

“I can make simple woodcarvings, I play the flute, and I guess I’ve dabbled in falconry.”

- Do you like and appreciate art? What is your favorite piece of artwork?

- Do you like music? What is your favorite style of music?

- Have you ever seen any musicals? What is your favorite?

- What are your top three favorite animals? What would you say your "Patronus" or "Spirit Animal" is?

“Eagles, Hawks, and Bears. Most rangers would probably say our spirits are most like wolves.”

- What are your top three favorite colors?

“Red, white, and I guess yellow or amber, though that last one is really just with eye colors.”

- What is your favorite season? Do you prefer hotter or colder weather? Do you like snow at all?

“Spring. I can’t stand the snow, it makes it easier to be tracked, and the work always slows down during the winter.”

- What kind of flavors do you prefer: Sweet, Sour, Bitter, Spicy, Dry, or Umami (savory meat taste)?

“Savory is my favorite. I’m not really a fan of sweets aside from fruits. I like mint a lot as well, but I don’t know what that falls under.”

- Can you cook at all?

“Yes. Everyone in the pack took turns cooking. So we all got pretty good at it.”

- What is your favorite dish? Can you prepare it? Do you have the recipe handy?

“I don’t know if I have a favorite, but I do like going to new places and trying their foods.”

- What is your favorite fruit and vegetable?

“Strawberries and onions.”

- What is your favorite dessert? What is your favorite type of candy/treat?

“Choclate is just about the only sweet I enjoy.”

- What is the best thing you have ever had the opportunity to eat? What is the worst?

“Xanican haggis is always a treat.”

- Do you like to drink tea or coffee? Any favorite flavors?

“Both are good, as I said earlier I like mind a lot.”

- Describe your sense of humor.

“Sarcasm.”

- What is one thing you are justly proud of?

“My skill with a sword. I’ve always been good with a blade. The best of all the rangers in my age group.”

- Do you have any religious beliefs? If not, have you ever been to a church service?

“Everyone pays respect to the gods, but I wouldn’t say I’m really religious. I’ve had to go to a few services when going to priest or nun healers. They usually make that their payment.”

- What would you say is the worst thing someone has done to you? What is the meanest thing someone has ever said to you?

"Tricking my pack into helping stoke the fires of a civil war and then getting them all killed. Anything that’s been said to me doesn’t even come close to that.”

- What is the worst thing you have done to someone? What is the meanest thing you have said to anyone?

“I’m not really sure. I tend not to talk much unless I have something really worth saying, insults are usually not worth the effort.” “Worst thing I’ve ever done to someone is definitely kill them. I’ve had to kill quite a few people.”

- Share the latest entry in your diary/journal.

“I can’t write.”

- What is the most precious thing you own? Is it valuable at all?

“Garmr. My sword. Over a thousand years old. I’ve heard some people say that its worth a kingdom, I wouldn’t know, and I don’t plan to sell it.”

- Talk about someone you know. It can be someone you either like or dislike.

“Rubio. He’s just a kid, got a lot of heart but a chip on his shoulder too. He’s had a rough start to his life, and I’m hoping to teach him a few things so he can make the rest of it better.”

[teacupfulofstarshine]

pattonella part 10: in which the author cannot write a fight scene to save her life but attempts to do so anyway

cw: cartoon/fantasy violence, injury, passing out, death of unnamed background villains, swearing

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // read it on ao3!

in the end, it’s patton who stays behind. 

“you don’t have any battle experience,” virgil says. 

“you don’t either!”

“i’ve been trained in self-defense my whole life,” virgil says. “i used to have to spar against dorian when he was learning. and i have magic to compensate for when my skills fail me. you don’t have either of those things.”

“not to mention, roman will become distracted enough when he sees us ride to his rescue,” logan says. “if he realizes you are there as well, his distraction will be heightened, and the likelihood of his injury will increase.” 

virgil watches patton open his mouth to argue, tense his shoulders, and bow his head. “you’re right,” he says. “but - but roman is my - my - i care about him, and i care about you too, logan, and - and virge, you’re my brother! what if something happens?”

“nothing is gonna happen to us, pat.” virgil holds his hand out, and a shimmering purple hexagon appears over his palm. “i’ve got magic to shield us and keep us safe. logan and i will come home safe, and we’ll bring roman back to you alive. i promise.” 

patton wrings his hands anxiously, reaching forward and making small grabby hands at his brother. virgil surges forward and pulls him into a hug, wrapping one hand tightly around patton’s waist and letting the other one weave up into his hair. “it’s okay, pat. just wait here with nate, and i promise we’ll bring roman back.”

“i trust you,” patton says. “i always trust you, you know that. i just - i’m -”

“hey, you’re talking to the living embodiment of anxiety,” virgil jokes. patton laughs wetly into his shoulder. virgil leans back and presses his forehead to patton’s. it’s the most intimate display of love and trust between family, one that had taken virgil years to be fully comfortable with. patton exhales shakily. 

“i trust you,” patton says, softer this time, he kisses virgil’s forehead and smiles, eyes watering. “come home safe, okay vee?” 

“of course, pat.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, pat.” 

patton looks to the doorway, where nate is waiting. virgil smiles when he sees patton’s family crest sewn over nate’s heart. patton squeezes virgil’s hand before following nate out of the armory. virgil exhales and turns to look at logan. the second prince has a crossbow strapped to his arm, two quivers slung over his shoulders, a box of crossbow bolts on each hip, and a proper bow in his hand. 

“that’s a lot of weaponry.”

“these are the weapons in which i am most proficient,” logan says. “do you have a weapon of choice?” 

virgil looks at all the weapons hanging on the walls. there are halberds bigger than he is, morning stars so heavy he doubts he could lift them, battle axes with blades thicker than his arm. he carefully selects a slender basket-hilted sword and straps the belt around his waist. he also pulls a few daggers off the wall and tucks them into the straps on his belt. 

“an interesting choice of weaponry,” logan says. “knives take a great deal of speed and skill to use properly in battle.”

“you’ve got one, don’t you?” 

“my weapons are primarily long-range,” logan says. “they are fired from horseback. i do not engage in direct combat if i can help it. that is not my area, not like it is roman’s. i do far better with the strategy of war than the actual fighting.”

“bet that’s why you’re so good at chess, huh?” virgil teases. logan smiles and steps forward. 

“i find that i would very much like to kiss you now, virgil.”

“i think that’s acceptable,” virgil says. logan gently holds his face with one hand, and virgil leans into logan’s long, cool fingers. his thumb strokes gently beneath virgil’s eye, and then logan leans in and kisses him. their noses bump together, and when virgil loops his arms around logan’s neck his fingers brush the fletching of the arrows.

“nothing is going to happen to roman,” virgil says. “nothing is going to happen to you. i won’t let it. i’ll die before i let that happen.”

“please do not die,” logan says, voice strangled. 

“i don’t plan to.” logan looks like he wants to argue more, but virgil kisses the words right out of his mouth.

*~*~*~*~*

thomas comes down to see them go. 

he watches logan saddle up his dappled grey horse, watches virgil tentatively pat the nose of his black horse, watches them load up saddlebags of supplies. logan is wearing chainmail, leather gloves, and leather arm guards, but virgil doesn’t have any armor on. 

“is that wise?” thomas asks. logan turns to face him. 

“virgil insisted that he did not want to be weighed down with armor.” 

“i notice your armor is fairly light as well.” thomas tries not to sound disapproving. judging by logan’s facial expression, he has not succeeded. 

“virgil has layered additional protection spells on both of us. heavy armor will only slow me down.” 

“patton is not with you.”

“he has less combat experience than we do, so he is staying in the castle.” logan’s face darkens with emotion so quickly that thomas can’t pinpoint what exactly he’s feeling. “thomas . . . please keep an eye on him?”

“of course, lo.” thomas wants to hug him tightly, wants to press his face into logan’s hair and beg his little brother to come home safely, but they are in the very public courtyard and he thinks it unwise. instead, he grips logan’s shoulder and squeezes just a touch too tightly. “be careful.”

“i always am,” logan says softly. 

thomas watches logan mount his horse, taking the reins with an expert hand. virgil takes a few more tries to get onto his horse, gripping the reins a little more tightly than logan does. he wathes them kick their horses into action and canter out of the castle courtyard. 

he curls his fingers tightly in the hem of his shirt and exhales a short, sharp prayer to whatever god may be listening. please, let them come home safe. all of them.

*~*~*~*~*

the village roman left to defend is roughly a day or two’s ride away from the castle at a measured pace. when they break at noon for lunch, logan spreads a map out and weighs it down with two rocks and curses. “this is nowhere near enough progress,” he curses. 

virgil looks up at him, and logan tries to release some of the stress from his tone. there’s no point in taking out his frustration on virgil; it isn’t his fault. “i know that there is no way for us to know when your vision will occur, but the sooner we can get to roman, the sooner we can protect him. what if we get there, and your vision has already transpired?” 

he kicks angrily at the grass, and virgil sets down the bread he’d been eating. logan feels a hand on his and a head leaning against his shoulder, and he exhales slowly. “roman is my baby brother,” he says softly. “even though he is the captain of the guard and he is the knight, i have always seen it as my responsibility to care for him and keep him safe. when - when our mother -”

logan cuts off, swallowing once, twice to control his emotions. “when our mother passed on, roman was . . . too young, really, to remember her. but thomas and i, we remember. we were there, shortly before the illness took her, and she made thomas promise to take care of me, and she made me promise to take care of roman. i take that very seriously.”

“i get it,” virgil says. “i take care of patton, even though he’s older than me.” 

“he is my brother,” logan repeats. he feels stupid for not being able to articulate his feelings more clearly, but virgil nods against his shoulder. 

“i understand.” 

he gently kisses logan’s neck, which makes logan shiver, and steps away. “maybe i can help.”

“what do you mean?” 

“i’m magic, l.” virgil carefully approaches the horses and lifts his hands. purple light begins to swirl around him, escaping in wisps from his fingertips and shining from every lock of his hair, which ruffles in some nonexistent wind. the horses toss their heads nervously, but virgil speaks a single word in that ancient, lost-to-time magical language, and they calm almost instantly. 

virgil lifts his hands, and he speaks. 

logan has studied many languages extensively. his role in life has always been perfectly clear: thomas is the crown prince, destined to be the next king; roman is the knight, the protector; logan is the diplomat, the lawmaker. even if he cannot speak a language, he can usually understand or at least recognize it. 

he doesn’t think anyone has ever heard the language virgil speaks to use magic. he doesn’t even know if virgil is consciously aware of the fact that he is speaking another language. logan can’t tell a noun from a verb from an adjective when virgil speaks, but he usually gets so enthralled in the way all of virgil’s speech flows together seamlessly to look for individual words. 

logan is not prone to figurative language. however, he thinks that if he had to assign a simile to his feelings when he listens to virgil speak magic, he would probably compare it to an orchestra. he could listen to pick out each instrument and its contribution to the whole, but it disrupts the collective genius of the whole. for once in his life, logan closes his eyes and stops trying to actively examine every single piece of the input he’s receiving. 

he just listens as virgil speaks. 

virgil finishes the spell with a flick of his wrists. purple magic speeds out from each hand and coils around the hooves of the horses before dissipating into sparkles. “what was that?” logan asks. 

virgil’s hair settles around his face, and when he turns to look at logan his irises gleam with the faintest spark of purple. “a speed spell, with any luck. i never really had any formal magic training, so for the most part i just kind of guess? i dunno, i concentrate really hard on the effect i wanna have and then the words just . . . come to me.” 

logan means to ask virgil if he can run some tests on this phenomenon once they have rescued roman and returned home safely. what comes out of his mouth is, “you are the single most fascinating creature on this planet.” 

virgil’s pale skin flushes pink to red to scarlet, and he rubs the back of his neck. “oh - geez, l, i - uh - really?”

“i would not say it if i did not mean it,” logan says earnestly. virgil’s eyes skitter from his shoulder to his ear to his face, and logan steps forward to kiss him gently. 

“we - we should finish eating,” virgil says. “and we should get going.”

“i agree.”

*~*~*~*~*

virgil breathes a quiet sigh of relief when he realizes that his speed spell works. the countryside passes them by in streaks of blurred color, even though their horses don’t appear to be moving any faster than a normal canter to either him or logan. when they dismount outside the village, virgil feels faintly dizzy, but logan is right there with a steadying hand on his elbow. 

“do you hear that?” he whispers. 

virgil does not, but logan slides his bow off his shoulder and grips it tightly. “distant fighting. i do not see any signs of conflict in the village, which means it must be elsewhere.” his hands shake ever so slightly, and virgil reaches up and takes logan’s free hand in his before he knows what he’s doing. 

“it’s okay,” he says. “we’re here. we’ll find ro, we’ll keep him safe, we’ll bring him home, okay?” 

logan lets out a long, controlled exhale. “okay. you are right, of course, my love.” virgil feels a pleasant fire curl in his chest at the nickname. “is the speed spell still on the horses?” 

“no, it dissolved when we got here. i could try and put it back on?”

logan shakes his head. “conserve your magical energy for the fight. if we can hear the battle, they cannot have gotten too far from us. we will lead the horses into town and ask if anyone has seen the prince.” 

virgil takes his horse’s reins in his hand and walks beside logan. as they enter the village, logan’s entire demeanor changes. he pushes his shoulders back, lifts his head, sets his jaw; his eyes become hard and focused. he looks less like logan, virgil’s . . . boyfriend? fiancé? partner? . . . and more like the kingdom’s second prince. 

a young woman looks up from sweeping the street in front of her house, catches sight of logan, and immediately drops into a deep curtsy. “your highness!” logan lifts a hand in greeting. 

“rise,” he tells her. “this is my consort, virgil. we are looking for my brother, his highness prince roman, who was dispatched here with some knights eight days ago to resolve a bandit situation.” 

“his highness lead the knights and some of our able-bodied villagers into the woods to ambush the bandits,” she tells them. “we hear the distant fighting, but we have no news. they left mid-morning.” 

logan nods. “thank you.” she curtsies again as logan swings up onto his horse. virgil grips his saddle and pulls himself up onto his own horse as best he can. “virgil, we must hurry.” 

“yeah.” 

they follow the path into the woods, hearing the sound of battle grow louder and louder. logan stops abruptly, dismounting and tying his horse up to a nearby tree. “we will be faster and less conspicuous on foot,” he whispers. virgil quickly dismounts and ties his own mount next to logan’s. he draws his sword, flexing his fingers around the hilt; logan pulls an arrow from one of his quivers and notches the arrow. 

virgil listens to the battle grow louder and louder and prays that they aren’t too late. 

*~*~*~*~*

dodge, roll, parry parry thrust slash shield up and block , spin and counter, thrust forward and bash and bring your sword up and then down, flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you, no time to recover bring your sword up now and block the strike, kick out and knock him down, spring up, sword down - 

roman loses himself to the rhythm of the fight. he can feel claire at his back, feel the adrenaline singing in his veins. these are his people; he swore an oath to defend them. he cannot let them down. he will not allow himself to be defeated. 

in the corner of his eye, he sees movement behind him. there is movement all around him in the chaotic ocean of battle, and he has to focus on the three bandits bearing down on him from the front. he has no time to turn and look behind him, and then -

an arrow sprouts out of the neck of the largest bandit. he gasps, chokes, drops his weapon and fumbles for his throat as he drops to his knees. roman is confused. he doesn’t remember bringing any archers in his encampment. he squints at the arrow and realizes that it’s fletched with dark blue. 

only one archer in the kingdom uses such arrows. 

the other two bandits grip their weapons more tightly. roman lifts his sword, and then -

“roman, get down, NOW!” 

roman whirls around in time to see an enemy archer in the trees. they fire, and he freezes; he can’t get out of the way in time, he won’t make it -

the arrow strikes a shimmering purple hexagon and drops harmlessly to the forest floor. behind him, roman hears a dull metallic thunk, spinning on his heel to see the weapons of the remaining bandits hit a wall of purple hexagons. two more dark-blue-fletched arrows sprout from their necks, and they drop like flies. 

logan is nowhere to be seen, but the enemy archer falls out of the tree with a cluster of arrows in her chest. virgil bursts into the clearing, hands glowing bright purple. he draws the sword hanging at his hip, and purple light spirals down the blade. “come and get me, motherfuckers!” he shrieks, head wreathed in purple fire, eyes glowing. 

bandit after bandit falls to logan’s arrows, but none of them can seem to find where, exactly, the second prince is. virgil is swarmed by bandits, but he stabs his sword into the ground and produces a shockwave of purple magic that sends them all flying. the wounds he leaves glow with purple light, and any bandits bearing such wounds stagger to an unconscious halt within minutes, no matter how slight the wound. 

virgil slashes his way across the battlefield. his hair whips around him, and a string of rotating purple hexagons swirl around his body. whenever an attack comes towards him, whether it be an arrow or a sword or a fist, a hexagon detaches from the string and grows and blocks the attack. roman can feel himself beginning to flag, but he finds himself face to face with virgil. he lifts his glowing sword and touches the tip to roman’s chest. 

roman inhales sharply as strength and vigor begin to flood into him. “i have dispatched the enemy,” virgil rumbles. “take their energy and drive them out.” roman connects the power in hie veins to the comatose bandits on the forest floor and grins. virgil smiles back at him, feral and unhinged, and whirls around to bring his sword crashing down on the head of a bandit attempting to sneak up behind him. 

another arrow blooms from the shoulder of a nearby bandit, and roman raises his sword. 

*~*~*~*~*

the battle goes swiftly with virgil and logan’s assistance. 

roman hoists his sword high over the clearing as the last of the bandits flee and fall beneath his forces. “victory!” he cries. the rest of his knights lift their weapons and echo his sentiment. he sees claire across the battlefield, wincing as she makes her way over to him. 

“are you injured?” 

“a few cuts, probably a mild sprain. i’ll be alright, your highness. you?” 

roman looks down at his arms and inhales shakily. there are a few small cuts littering his hands and forearms, but as he watches purple light travels across them and leaves clean, unbroken skin in its wake. he looks up to see virgil, still glowing with an almost unholy light, sword almost too bright to look at. 

“i have more energy than i can contain,” virgil says. his eyes are solid purple, glowing as he stares at roman. “if his highness permits it, i will heal his knights.”

“will it hurt you?” roman asks. 

“i have the energy to spare.”

roman looks at claire, then back to virgil, and nods. “do it.” 

virgil nods. “as you wish.” he turns his back to logan, heaves his sword up with two hands, and drives the blade into the earth. another shockwave of purple magic ripples out over the battlefield. instead of damge, however, this one bathes roman’s knights and the villagers who’d accompanied them in soft purple light. gasps of shock echo across the battlefield as tendrils of magic wrap around any injuries sustained in battle and carefully heal them. 

“roman!” 

roman whirls around to see logan drop from a tree and sprint across the battlefield. he’s breathing heavily; there’s a slice on his cheek from where his bowstring must have rebounded, and his fingers are bruised and rubbed raw. logan drops his bow and grips roman’s shoulders. 

“are you alright?! have you sustained any serious injury?!”

“what are you doing here?” roman asks. 

“virgil had a vision,” logan says. “you were struck by an arrow and killed in battle. we could not let that happen, roman, i -”

roman drops his sword, decorum be damned, and throws himself forward to hug his brother. logan stiffens at the sudden contact, but quickly melts to hold him tightly. “i was so scared,” logan murmurs. “i know you are a competent swordsman, but when virgil told me you were fated to die, i -”

“i know,” roman murmurs. he pushes his face into logan’s neck; his brother is sweaty and too-warm, but roman refuses to let go. “i know, but i’m here. i’m okay.” 

logan pulls back and studies him critically. “are you injured?”

“i was.” 

“what do you mean, wa - virgil?!” 

virgil slowly approaches them, still surrounded by ethereal purple light. “beloved,” he says. logan swallows, hard. “you are injured. allow me to help you.” he steps forward, brings his glowing hands up, and pulls logan into a deep kiss. logan’s eyes widen in shock before slipping shut. virgil supports logan as he dips him backwards, and purple light travels through logan. roman watches his cuts seal up and his injuries heal themselves. 

logan brings a hand up to touch his lips when virgil finally breaks the kiss. “i . . . you . . . wh . . .”

virgil smiles. it’s different than the feral grin he’d had in the heat of battle; this one is soft and loving. “beloved,” he says again. virgil blinks, and the purple light dissipates from him all at once. he sways on his feet, looking completely and utterly exhausted, and pitches forward into logan’s arms. 

“virgil!” logan gasps, catching him and slowly lowering them to the ground. 

“shit, is he -”

logan already has two fingers on his neck looking for a pulse. “his pulse is weaker than i would like, but he is breathing. i suspect he overexerted himself during that fight. i have never seen him use that much magic at once.”

“the doc will be able to help him, right?” 

“most assuredly,” logan says. he looks up at roman and sighs. “would you care to return home, roman?” 

roman thinks of patton, bright and smiling, running to greet him in the courtyard. he pictures sweeping patton off his feet and spinning him around and showering his round face in kisses before connecting their mouths and thoroughly reacquainting himself with the taste of his beloved. 

“yeah, lo. let’s go home. 

[xxx-cat-xxx]

A little broken

Over a year after defeating Thanos and almost losing Tony, Peter is still haunted by the final battle. In an attempt to outrun the memories, he starts college far from New York.

It takes a visit from his mentor and an ill-timed flu bug that brings them both to their knees until Peter realises that he doesn’t have to take on the whole world alone.

Some Irondad hurt/comfort for everyone who’s quarantining at home (and those of you who have to work. Stay safe!) This is my @marveltrumpshate​ fic for Heyriel. Great thanks to @whumphoarder​ for doing so much more than beta reading. I hope you enjoy.

______________________________

The first time they meet, Peter isn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

The man shows up unannounced to Peter’s apartment, chewing on May’s date loaf and walking around Peter’s room as if he owns the place—talking as if he owns the whole world. Peter is both awed and appalled, May’s occasional comments about greedy billionaires ringing in his ears. But then Peter starts talking about his motivation for doing what he does, and for a moment something in the older man’s face seems to break. That’s when Peter knows that there’s more to him than what makes the tabloids. 

Germany is both a thrilling adventure and an unparalleled disaster. Peter watches the group of heroes he’s looked up to since childhood break apart before his very eyes. The fight is grueling, taking more out of Peter than he knew was possible. He is lying there on the ground, trying to catch his breath, when Tony bends over him. And for a moment, there it is again: the broken facade on his face—below it, pure panic. The way Tony looks at him with thinly masked worry reminds him of Ben’s expression whenever Peter was little and having an asthma attack, and it does something to his insides that he can’t really explain. 

Then, a few months later, Peter inevitably screws up and slices a ferry in half. The two of them are standing high above the city when Tony takes his suit away, and Peter feels tears pricking at his eyes. He cries later in his room, alone, because it’s so much more than just the suit; he feels that by disappointing Tony he’s lost his chance at something so much bigger. 

It’s a miracle he manages to fix this one.

After Siberia, Tony is darker and quieter and indisputably older—like he’s finally grown up. Peter is sad for him, but it’s not all bad either. This new Tony starts taking more of an interest in Peter’s training—starts acting like a real mentor to him. There are afternoons spent together in the lab, dinners at the tower with Tony and Mr. Rhodes, and even the occasional low-stakes mission. Slowly, Tony’s world starts to feel like a place where Peter might one day belong.

But then, the universe gets ripped in two and somewhere on a red and war-torn planet, Peter clings to Tony in desperation, feeling first his body, then his thoughts slip away from him. 

When he wakes again, there’s another battle to fight, but this time there’s no thrill to it. It’s his personal horror film come true.

He can hear the moment when Tony’s heart stops. Peter cries openly this time.  

*

In the end, Tony makes it through. He loses an arm and much of his physical strength, but he’s stubborn as hell and fights his way through recovery. But somehow the day of the battle never fades from Peter’s brain like memories should. 

When he finishes school, May proposes NYU, Tony naturally wants MIT, but Peter chooses Culver University. It might be good for him to get out of New York, is what he says. It might be good for him not to be in a place that has Tony’s legacy lurking around every corner, is what he thinks. And maybe moving away will make things easier when he returns. 

Three months into Peter’s first semester at Culver, Tony accepts a guest speaking gig at the university and decides to stay at a nearby hotel to spend the weekend with Peter.

And that’s when it all goes to hell. 

*

“Hello? Earth to Peter.” Tony waves a hand in his face. “Who are you daydreaming about?”

“Huh?” Peter looks up at Tony, then down at his half-finished iced tea. “Nothing,” he evades. “Nobody, I mean. Sorry, I’m just—just tired. And I have a lot of work left this weekend.”

“Mh-hmm.” Tony looks as if he isn’t quite believing it. “You want more spring rolls?” 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll wait for the main dish.” 

Peter hasn’t eaten much today, but he’s not quite hungry either. He’s nursing a headache and the tiredness is not just an excuse. As happy as Peter is to see his mentor, Tony’s timing in showing up the week before midterms really could’ve been better. Peter feels like he might fall asleep right here at the restaurant table, but he already knows that he’s going to have to stay up until late to finish his readings. 

“You’re doing it again,” Tony points out. “You’re being awfully quiet, kid. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, seriously.” Peter manages to hold eye contact for a few seconds and then takes another sip of his iced tea. “So, you said we could fix the suit while you’re here?”

Tony takes the bait (or maybe just lets it drop intentionally) and the talk quickly turns technical. 

After a few minutes, they’re interrupted by the waitress—a student Peter thinks he recognises from his Python lab—who stares at Tony for a moment, her gaze lingering on the scars decorating his right cheek and ear before dropping down to his bionic arm. Then she catches herself and asks for their order.

When their food arrives, Peter observes Tony take out a box of different coloured pills and swallow a couple of them dry. 

“I know, not sexy,” Tony remarks, noticing his look, “but sort of necessary if I want to keep this baby ticking.” He taps his hand over his chest with a wan smile. 

Peter grins half-heartedly in return, even while he can feel his insides clench. The comment reminds him of the time Tony’s heart actually did stop, of the battlefield with the dust of Thanos’ army still hanging in the air, of the utter helplessness he felt when Tony snapped, of― 

“Uhm, excuse me?” It’s the waitress again, her voice shy, cheeks blushing. She extends a piece of paper toward Tony. “Could I, uhm, could you, maybe give me an autograph for my sister? She’s a big fan. I mean, we all are, of course, but she’s got her room decorated with posters of you and all that…”

Tony looks her up and down with a raised eyebrow and a smirk playing around his lips. “What’s your sister’s name?” he asks finally, making a show of producing an integrated pen from his bionic arm. The waitress is visibly impressed, and Peter resists the temptation to roll his eyes―it’s far from the first time he’s seen this trick. If Tony was famous before, it’s nothing compared to the status he earned since dusting Thanos and saving the universe. 

Tony gives the waitress an easy smile along with the paper he passes back, and then turns back to Peter with a smirk. “Fangirls,” he whispers. “Gotta love ‘em. Did I tell you about the kid who offered me all of his allowance for a hoofprint from Gerald?”

*

Because Tony is Tony, it takes a long time before he has caught Peter up on anecdotes of Morgan, Happy, and Gerald’s newest misadventures, and by the time Peter gets back home, it is already late evening. His studio apartment is small and rather old, with walls that have turned grey over time and windows that don’t fully close anymore, but it’s got its own kitchen and bathroom, which is much better than a dorm room―especially since Peter wouldn’t know how to explain the odd hours he keeps or the regular blood stains in the shower to any of his fellow students. 

Peter’s head has been throbbing painfully for the better part of an hour, and the lights from the screen when he pulls out his laptop don’t make it any better. All his body seems to want is sleep, but if he’s going to spend the next two days upgrading his suit with Tony’s help, he really needs to get these chemistry readings finished. 

He tries for several hours, but the words don’t seem to want to stick in his mind and it takes longer than expected until he feels that he has understood the chapter. Peter drops into bed around 3:30 in the morning, too tired to even change out of his jeans, and falls asleep immediately.

*

Peter is woken up by someone knocking on his apartment door to the beat of “We Will Rock You”, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. He drags himself out of bed and over to the door.

“Finally,” Tony sighs when Peter lets him in, shoving a reusable thermal to-go cup in the kid’s face and causing him to flinch backwards. “I thought I’d have to actually start singing.” Then he gives Peter a once-over and his face falls. “What happened to you?”

“I think I’m sick,” Peter replies, realising it is true the same moment the words leave his mouth. His head is hurting even more than the night before and his throat feels raw and painful, but the worst is the utter weakness in his body and the chills running down his back that tell him he has a fever. 

“What kind of sick?” Tony asks suspiciously. To Peter’s surprise, instead of turning on his heel and leaving the surely germ-infested apartment, Tony steps over the threshold and raises a hand to cup to Peter’s forehead.

“Dunno.” Peter shrugs. “Just feel like garbage. Flu was going around the school last week―it’s probably that.”

“Aw, kid,” Tony sighs, something like compassion in his voice. “Yeah, you feel really warm.” 

“Sorry about the suit,” Peter says, moving back to sit down on his bed heavily. “I guess you can just go back to New York early then.” 

“What? You think I’m coldhearted enough to leave my former intern alone on his deathbed somewhere in the Virginian wilderness?” 

“Culver’s not that bad,” Peter defends. “And I’m not alone either.”

“So that means you have someone here to take care of you?” Tony raises a sceptical eyebrow.

Peter hesitates. “I… May’s a nurse,” he evades. “I can call her.” 

Truth is, there actually isn’t anybody. He hasn’t really made friends yet―at least certainly not the kind he would consider asking to take care of him while he’s down with the flu. He calls May twice a week, skypes with Ned—and occasionally still with MJ—on the weekends, and he’s friendly enough with his classmates when they’re working together in classes. But his downtime is mostly spent studying on his own and patrolling the city at night.

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening.” Tony looks him over appraisingly, then seems to make a decision and presses the cup of hot chocolate into Peter’s hand. “Guess I’ll stick around for a bit. Here, drink that.” 

“I don’t really feel like it.” Peter is definitely queasy, bordering on nauseous, and the thought of drinking something as rich as hot chocolate almost makes his stomach turn. He shifts on the bed so that he can lean against the headboard, feeling too tired to hold his body up without support.

“Well, you need to have something. Super metabolism and all that.” Tony strides over to the small, definitely not tidy kitchenette and starts opening cupboards, most of which are empty. He comes up with a few packets of shrimp-flavoured instant noodles and a box of Coco Puffs. “Really, kid?”

“I was gonna get groceries today,” Peter says defensively. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that now,” Tony states. “What do you say to buttered noodles? That’s all Morgan ever wants when she’s sick.” 

“Yeah, that’s...that’s fine,” Peter says, dumbfounded at the idea of Tony Stark going to the supermarket and making pasta for him. 

“Good. Glad that you agree, since that’s about as far as my cooking skills go.” He zips up his jacket and grabs Peter’s keys from the table. “Don’t do anything stupid till I’m back.” With that, he’s out of the door. 

Peter doesn’t feel like he’d be able to do anything stupid even if he wanted to. He can’t remember the last time he felt this bad, and with his Spider-Manning lifestyle, that really says something. He’s thirsty, but his throat hurts in a way that doesn’t make him want to swallow anything. There’s an ugly taste in his mouth and he really wants to brush his teeth, but the bathroom could just as well be a hundred miles away. 

If May were here, she would have set him up on the sofa with Star Trek: TOS playing on the TV while changing his sheets and airing out the room, he thinks. And suddenly the homesickness hits him like a train. He misses May. He misses New York and his friends and even the busy schedule that high school provided him with, but mostly he misses coming home to an apartment that’s not empty, having someone to eat breakfast with in the mornings and share his day with in the evenings over burnt teriyaki chicken. Just the thought of May’s disastrous cooking skills almost brings tears to his eyes. 

He stays like this for an indefinite amount of time, feeling miserable and blinking back tears, until Tony eventually returns. He sets down the shopping bag on the table and closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge between them with his fingers, the telltale sign that he has a headache. 

“You okay?” Peter asks hoarsely.

“Yeah. You live in a village, kid. Took forever to find a parking spot and then everyone and their mother wanted an autograph. Basically fought my way out of there. Might have to give my lawyer a heads up, actually.” 

Peter can’t even bring himself to force a laugh. A part of him wants to tell Tony to just go home already; the other part of him really, really doesn’t want to be alone right now. He sniffs hard and swallows to keep his nose from dripping.

“Hey,” Tony’s expression sobers as he sits down next to him on the mattress. “Did I miss something?”

“I just―” Peter rubs a sleeve over his watery eyes, feeling embarrassed. He thinks for an excuse and suddenly remembers the very real problems of college. “Ah, crap.” 

“Huh?” Tony asks.

“I have two tests next week,” Peter admits miserably. “I haven’t done anything for them yet―I was going to study this weekend in the evenings―”

“That’s fine, kid, we can deal with that. We saved the universe, remember? Schoolwork is nothing compared to Thanos, trust me.”

“I know,” Peter sniffs. Then, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I‘m just missing home.” 

“Ah,” Tony says. He lays his bionic hand on Peter’s shoulder and rubs it. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter goes on, “I didn’t mean, I’m just―” 

“You’re just sick and tired and emotional,” Tony assesses, but there’s no judgement in his voice. “Come on.” He gestures for Peter to lie down and pulls the blanket up to his neck. “Go to sleep, kid.” His tone is almost soft. “I’ll be here.”

Peter falls into a feverish, exhausted sleep. He’s dimly aware of an icy cold gripping him and chills wracking his body, and then of Tony putting an extra blanket on him. At some point Tony offers food, but Peter’s too tired to even fully open his eyes. He mumbles something that he hopes Tony understands and turns over to the other side. 

The next time he fully surfaces, it’s from Tony gently shaking him awake. “Hey Pete, I know you’re tired, but you really need to eat something.” 

“Don’ wanna,” he mutters, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Peter. Come on, kid.” 

He blinks himself awake. The apartment is dark now; it must be evening already. The faint smell of food lingers in the air. “D’ I sleep all day?” he asks, confused. 

“Almost. You can still catch Saturday Night Live.” 

“Hmm.” Peter sits up slowly. He feels woozy and weak and his head is still hurting, which is ridiculous considering how long he slept for. 

“Just let me check your temperature.” Tony takes off his smartwatch and presses it against Peter’s neck, just under his chin. The cold metal sends shivers down his spine. 

“102.6,” Tony reports. “Yeah, that’s not great. A pity that fever reducers don’t work on you.” Tony’s voice sounds rough. Peter squints up at him just as the man turns his head into his shoulder to cough. He looks tired—really tired—and, as far as Peter can make out in the dim light of the bedside lamp, his face is kind of flushed. 

“Are you okay?” Peter croaks. 

“Uhm...” For a moment it looks like Tony wants to lie, but then he falters. “Not really. Guess I caught the same bug you did.”

“Shit,” Peter says. This sucks big time. 

“I already texted May—she’ll probably be up here tomorrow. As soon as you’d had something to eat and drink, I’ll go back to the hotel and get out of your hair. You don’t need an old sick man around.”

“What? No!” Peter blurts before he can stop himself. He feels his breath speeding up, horrified at both the idea of Tony leaving him here alone, and of Tony being on his own in some hotel room feeling as miserable as Peter does now. “Please don’t go.”

Tony looks taken aback. “Pete, I don’t think I’m going to be much help soon.” 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Peter feels himself blushing. “It’s nice not to be alone,” he admits in a small voice. 

Tony gives him a long look. “Okay, fine,” he agrees eventually. “But that means you have to listen to me. And the first rule is: eat your dinner, kid.”

They eat quietly. Tony is visibly making an effort not to let on just how bad he’s feeling, but Peter has learned to read the signs during his mentor’s long period of recovery from the snap. Tony is rubbing his shoulder whenever he thinks that Peter isn’t looking, which means that his prosthesis is hurting him. His shoulders are slumped, showing how tired he is, he’s nursing a headache, and then there is the fairly obvious sign of him hardly having eaten anything except for two spoons of pasta and his medication.

After dinner, Tony calls Pepper while Peter calls May. She gives him a run-down of the usual flu advice―“Stay hydrated, try and rest, and for god’s sake, don’t pile every blanket you own on yourself like that time you had strep, Peter—keep the curtains on the windows”—and promises to drive up tomorrow if she can get her shift covered. Then she asks to talk to Tony. Meanwhile, Peter uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth and changes into pyjamas. Observing himself in the mirror, he realises just how run-down he looks. He splashes some water on his face, which does nothing except make him shiver. 

“She asked whether you built that Lego ship she got you for your birthday,” Tony announces when Peter returns. 

“Oh.” Peter hasn’t, of course. He’s neither had the time nor the motivation to do so without Ned.

Tony makes a show of looking around the room. “This place is less personal than an airbnb. I told her there’s not even a poster on your wall.”

“So what?” Peter sighs. He feels the need to defend himself, but he’s too sick to come up with anything.  

Tony doesn’t press it, luckily. He borrows a pair of sweatpants, which end up being a bit short around his ankles and make it look like he’s outgrown them. It almost makes Peter smile. They pull out the sofa-sleeper that May insisted on him getting, but which he’s had no opportunity to use until now. When everything is set up, Peter is almost dizzy from being on his feet for so long. He’s both sweating and shivering and very glad to lie back down under the covers.

Tony turns on the TV, but neither of them is really paying attention. Peter is half asleep a few minutes into the news and Tony seems visibly uncomfortable, shifting around every few minutes on the couch. 

“Do you want to switch to the bed?” Peter asks him, secretly hoping for the answer to be no―he really doesn’t want to get up again. Tony shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. Then he gets to his feet faster than Peter would have thought possible for someone in his condition and bolts to the bathroom. 

Peter hears nothing for a while. Then there’s a few weak coughs, followed by a retch and the sound of splashing. Peter cringes, his own stomach twisting in sympathy. The small size of the apartment and his enhanced hearing make it impossible to tune out the sounds as Tony continues to be sick into the toilet for the next ten minutes. When the retching tapers off, Peter shakily gets to his feet and fills a glass of water from the kitchenette. 

He knocks on the bathroom door, then leans heavily against the frame. “I got you some water,” he calls, hearing Tony’s ragged breathing inside. “Can I come in?”

“Just go to sleep, kid,” Tony croaks. 

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbles under his breath. After a few moments, he hears the sound of the flush and then the door opens. Tony is covered in sweat and looking about as bad as Peter feels, plus there’s a greenish tinge to his face. The smell of vomit wafts out and hits Peter’s nostrils, turning his own stomach. 

“Thanks, Pete,” Tony croaks says hoarsely and takes the water from his hand. His metal fingers feel cold against Peter’s burning skin when they brush the back of his hand. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

“‘S okay,” Peter mumbles. He suddenly has a hard time focusing on Tony. His head feels so heavy that he has to rest it against the doorframe as well. 

“Jeez, kid,” Tony comments. Then his face drains even more of colour and he presses his knuckles against his lips, swallowing thickly. “Go lie down, okay? I’ll be out in a bit.” With that, he turns and disappears back into the bathroom. 

For once, Peter listens to him, unsure whether he will be able to keep standing much longer anyway. After a moment of consideration, he curls up on the couch, leaving the softer bed for the older man. He drifts there for a while, trying to tune out the sounds of sickness coming from the bathroom. 

Eventually, he is dimly aware of someone entering the room and switching off the lights. There’s cold metal touching his neck as someone takes his temperature and tsks, then softly brushes back his hair and lays a cold washcloth on his forehead. It feels amazing against Peter’s burning skin.

“Thanks, May,” he mumbles.

*

Waking up feels like resurfacing after diving into a deep pool of water. Peter’s eyelids are sticky with sleep and his brain feels like it’s been through a potato masher. He’s disoriented, so it takes a bit until he realises that it was Tony’s voice that woke him. “Pete,” he hears him calling again weakly. Something about it shakes him out of his half-awake state. 

“Tony?” he asks, sitting up. There’s a rustling sound and a thump from the bathroom, confirming his worry. A quick glance at his phone on the bedside table tells him that it’s just after 4am. Definitely not the time to take a shower.

Peter’s head swims when he gets up from the couch. He takes a few unsteady steps towards the bathroom and then stops to lean against the wall until his vision clears and he can open the door.

Tony is on the ground next to the toilet, wrenched in between the bowl and the shower, looking about ten times worse than earlier. His face is almost grey except for the scars on his right cheek, which are flushed in an angry red. His dark eyes are glassy and deeply exhausted. Sweat sticks to his hair and t-shirt, the prosthesis off and one sleeve dangling empty. The smell of vomit hangs thickly in the air, much stronger than before.

Tony slowly lifts his head when Peter steps in. “Hey,” he croaks, attempting a smile and giving up somewhere halfway. “Sorry for waking you. ‘S just that I could use some help.”

“With what exactly?” 

“Getting up?” Tony asks sheepishly. “I tried and almost took down your shower curtain.”

Peter blinks. “Well, shit.”

“You said it, kid.” 

Peter extends a hand and Tony grabs it gratefully, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Peter closes the toilet lid and Tony sits down on it with a heavy sigh. He shudders convulsively, then closes his eyes and swallows rapidly a few times, as if trying to stop himself from being sick again. 

“How long have you been in here?” Peter asks while checking Tony’s temperature on his smart watch. He finds it to be at a worrying 103.6.

“Uhm,” Tony makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Midnight, maybe? Kinda lost track of time.” Peter frowns. “Sorry for waking you up, kid,” Tony says again, taking his expression the wrong way. “That’s kind of why I didn’t want to stay.”

“You should have called me earlier.” Peter fills a glass of water from the tap. “And yeah, really reassuring to think of you spending the night on the bathroom floor of your hotel because you can’t get up on your own.”

Tony mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Not like I haven’t done that before.” When Peter hands him the glass, the man’s hands are trembling so much that half of the water spills out onto his shirt. 

“Shit,” Tony mutters. “All my spares are at the hotel.” 

“I can give you one of mine,” Peter offers. 

“Yeah, that... that would be great,” Tony says earnestly. Peter wonders whether he’s maybe a bit delirious. “This shit didn’t use to happen before the snap, you know.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter says, surprised at the admission. He fetches a clean sweatshirt from the dresser and hands it to the older man. His mentor’s whole body is shaking violently with chills. While Tony changes, Peter notices that the scar pattern around his shoulder stump is an angry red. It looks painful, but Tony doesn’t seem to care too much. 

Something twists within Peter. It reminds him too much of the time just after the snap when he saw Tony in the hospital, weak with fever from the infected limb.

“Ready for bed?” Peter asks, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“Yeah,” Tony says, although he doesn’t look too sure. Peter pulls him upright and almost staggers under the man’s weight and his own weakness. Tony doesn’t comment, and when Peter turns towards him, he sees that he is biting his lips, eyes largely unfocused. 

“This really hit you hard, huh?” Peter asks when they have made it to the bed, sitting down next to Tony. His mentor is bending forward, head in his hands, panting and shaking like he just finished a mission in the suit. That’s not the only thing, though. With his advanced hearing, Peter can pick up Tony’s heartbeat, which is slightly arrhythmic. 

“Tony?” he asks suspiciously. “What’s wrong with your heart?”

“Yeah, about that…” The other man raises his head, but avoids Peter’s gaze.

“What?” Peter can feel his own heart rate speeding up in worry.

“I, uh...remember my heart medication?” Tony says casually. “I threw up the last dose. It’s not dangerous, don’t worry,” he adds when Peter stares at him, alarmed, “Or, well, at least not yet. Just sort of increases the nausea and dizziness.”

“Can’t you take another dose?” he asks. 

“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now,” Tony admits. “But I’ll try in the morning.”

“Hmm.” This doesn’t really do anything to make Peter feel better. 

“Don’ worry, kid” Tony adds with a tired slur to his words, which only achieves the opposite. With a lot of effort, he pulls his legs up to the bed and then lies down under the blankets. “Let’s both sleep for a bit and things will look brighter in the morning.”

Peter gets himself a glass of water and then curls back up on the couch. He hears Tony’s breaths turn heavy and even out before long, but although he feels exhausted, he has a hard time going back to sleep. The sofa feels like rocks under his achy body, and he keeps turning around, unable to find a comfortable position. His head doesn’t fare any better. With his brain cloudy from fever, it’s even harder than usual to stave off the memories from the battlefield. 

His eyes finally fall shut and back he goes, right into the middle of dust and blood and death looming around every corner. He knows that there should be screams and shouts everywhere, but it’s silent, dead silent, except for the underlying thump-thump-thump of Tony’s heartbeat, becoming ever quieter. 

Peter rounds a heap of rubble and almost stumbles over Tony, who is lying on the ground, half his body eaten away by the radiation. The beating gets weaker even as Peter falls onto his knees and tears stream down his cheeks. He��s been here a hundred times, unable to save the man who saved him, and he knows exactly how this is going to end. 

A beat, almost indiscernible. A breath leaves Tony’s lips for the last time. 

Silence. 

*

He wakes to the feeling that everything in the world that possibly could be wrong, is wrong. His whole body is hot and he feels nauseous, almost as if he will throw up. Sick, he remembers. He’s sick. Tony’s― 

Peter forces himself to take a deep breath that comes out more like a choked sob. He sits up dizzily, and is surprised by the light streaming through the windows. His eyes immediately wander to Tony’s still form on the bed, covered by blankets. Peter can make out his slightly ragged breathing, but he’s way past the point where he would feel calmed by this. 

Unsteadily, he makes his way over to the bed and sits down on the floor next to it, shivering uncontrollably from the coldness of the tile, but not wanting to wake Tony up. He tries to calm himself, but his heart won’t stop racing. Everything feels kind of surreal and he can’t shake the image of Tony’s body on the ground, so still and lifeless. There are tears burning in his eyes. He shoves his knuckles in his mouth to keep himself from sobbing loudly. 

“Kid?” Tony’s groggy voice asks. “What ‘appened?”

“S-Sorry,” Peter manages. “G-Go back to sleep.”

“Hey.” Tony rubs his eyes and tries to push himself up, only partially succeeding. Looking at Peter, his face takes on an alarmed expression. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Peter whispers, feeling infinitely stupid. “J-Just had a nightmare.” He bites his lip, but with the admission, a dam seems to break. He can feel his eyes overflowing. 

“Hey, kid, hey,” Tony says softly. “It’s alright.”

Peter just shakes his head, tears dripping down his cheeks onto the floor. Tony extends a trembling hand to wipe them away. “Do these nightmares happen often?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Peter evades. He wonders why he doesn’t just tell the truth. That there’s rarely a night when he doesn’t go back to the battle against Thanos, or the dust on Titan, or even the Vulture in flames―an enemy that seems ridiculous now compared to the ones they’ve fought since, but sometimes still makes it into Peter’s dreams. 

“It’s gotten worse again, hasn’t it?” Tony asks. “Since you moved here.” His hand drops down to Peter’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly. 

“‘S okay,” he lies. “I’m fine. Jus’... just the fever.”

“Mmh-hmm, sure. Come here.” Tony nods his head towards himself, weakly lifting an arm, and Peter lets himself get pulled into the hug. “Woah, kid. You’re on fire.” 

“Hmm,” Peter mumbles. “You too.” 

It’s true; Tony’s body feels even hotter than his. The sweatshirt Peter had given him is already damp with sweat. And, most concerningly, his heart is still beating out of rhythm. It reminds Peter way too much of his dream for him to ignore it. 

“You need to have some water,” Tony says, ignorant to Peter’s thoughts. “And eat something. It’s been a while.”

Peter’s queasiness increases at the thought. “Stomach’s not feeling great,” he admits. “How are you doing?” he asks then, into the older man’s chest. “And don’t lie.” 

He feels Tony grimacing. “Like a clock someone forgot to wind up.” His remaining arm lets go of Peter as he brings it to his chest to massage the area around his heart. “But hey, don’t worry. I’m gonna try my pills and some water and then I’ll be back on my bullshit before you know it.” 

But he isn’t. Half an hour later, Peter has to support Tony to the toilet to once again throw up the medication and the few sips of water he’s just managed to get down. He stops trying to reassure Peter after the second bout of painful dry heaves wrack his body and doesn’t even resist when Peter wipes down his grey face with a wet cloth. On their way back, halfway across the bedroom, they almost lose balance when Tony’s legs suddenly give out. Peter just manages to stabilise him before they can faceplant all the way. 

“That’s it. You need to go to the ER,” Peter decides after all-but carrying Tony back to the bed and sitting him down. Peter’s own body feels heavy with exhaustion. Tony weakly shakes his head and opens his mouth to object. “Please, Tony.”

There must have been something in his voice that gave away his desperation because Tony shuts up mid-inhale. He gives Peter a deep look and then nods shakily. ”But only if you eat something first.”

“Okay.” He checks Tony’s temperature, which has climbed even higher, to 103.8. Peter’s own is hardly any better at 103.2, but at least he can still stand―kind of, he realises when he has to sit down to be able to concentrate on his phone screen long enough to call a cab. 

The walk to the kitchen feels like it’s a mile long. Peter surveys the meagre food choices and decides that cold pasta with salt looks like the best option. After the first few bites, his queasiness abides a bit and he manages to finish his small plate, suddenly realising how hungry he was. He drinks two glasses of water with it and finally feels a little less lightheaded. Then he goes to the bathroom and, on a whim, swallows a small handful of painkillers from the bottle of Advil Tony has sitting beside his pill box. They will hardly do anything for him, but hopefully they’ll keep him upright until they reach the hospital.

When Peter comes back, he expects Tony to be lying where he left him and is already wondering how he’s going to maneuver him down the stairs from the second floor with the man's balance shot and his own legs feeling like noodles. But Tony is sitting up and in the process of putting on his shoes. His determination, however, falters a bit when it comes to actually standing up. 

“Just go slow,” Peter directs, supporting Tony to the door and taking on most of the man’s weight. “One step at a time.”

They make it down the first staircase before Tony holds up a hand. “Just need a minute,” he exhales, sitting down with a sigh and leaning against the wall, his eyelids fluttering shut. His breathing is ragged. Peter looks at him worriedly, the unsteady thump of the man’s heartbeat loud in his ears. Tony, as if feeling the gaze, opens one eye to squint at him. “Not dead yet, kid. Come on, let’s get downstairs.” 

Maybe it’s the fact that the painkillers are wearing off faster than expected or that Peter’s anxiety is finally getting the better of him, but the cab ride is kind of a blur. He just remembers Tony sitting with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, looking deathly exhausted, and at some point grabbing the older man’s hand and holding on. 

Peter only lets go of it when he has to fill in the forms once they reach the hospital. The ER nurse takes one look at Tony’s scarred face and missing arm and then directs them to a private room. Peter’s hand is shaking so hard that Tony’s name on the form looks like a child’s scrawl. Behind him, his mentor is already being connected to a heart monitor, while another nurse is bringing an IV stand.

He hands the form to the elderly nurse and then has to steady himself against the wall when he stumbles a bit. 

Her brow furrows. “Are you alright?” she asks. 

“Y-Yes,” Peter answers quickly. 

“Bullshit. He’s got the flu too,” Tony mutters from the bed behind them. 

“I’m fine,” Peter insists, feeling his heart rate spike. They’ve done a great deal to keep his secret identity, well, secret while he’s at Culver, and he’s not about to let his powers be discovered just because of a flu bug. “Really, I’m okay. Not a big deal.”

“Honey, you can’t be here as a visitor if you’re sick,” the nurse says, her tone kind, but firm. “You’ll risk infecting the other patients.”

Peter looks up, taking a moment to understand the implications. “What? No, please don’t make me go!” 

The nurse eyes him critically, then sighs and relents. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to be inside this room at all times. I can’t have you walking around spreading germs.”

“That’s okay,” Peter agrees immediately. It’s not like he was planning to walk the halls anyway; his legs feel like they might go on strike any moment. When the nurse turns around to start working on Tony, Peter wobbles over to an uncomfortable chair in the corner and collapses into it.

He feels like the next time he takes an actual breath is once Tony is hooked up to painkillers, antiemetics, and something for his heart, the fluids dripping steadily into his arm through an IV and the heart monitor finally—finally—reverts back to a steady rhythm of beeps. Tony isn’t conscious anymore to notice; after spending the better part of the last 24 hours on Peter’s bathroom floor, his exhaustion has finally gotten the upper hand. He drifts off as soon as the meds start kicking in. 

Once the nurses leave, Peter drags his chair over next to the bed. Tony looks—there is no other way to describe it—frail. Like he might fall apart any minute if Peter stops watching. His fever is still much too high at 103.3 and he is sleeping fitfully, as if the dreams are haunting him as well. Peter can still see images from the nightmare in his mind. Not clear, but looming, like he might find himself on the battlefield any time he turns around. 

He doesn’t want to fall asleep, but he’s dead tired. Now with the adrenaline fading, it feels like his body weighs a thousand pounds. He suddenly doesn’t even feel able to keep his head up, and instead lets himself slump forward, crossing his arms and resting his head on top. His cold hands are a sharp contrast to his burning face. 

His mind feels oddly detached from his body, like he’s floating, and he has no idea how much time has passed when suddenly the nurse shakes him awake from where he’s slidden down onto the edge of Tony’s mattress. “Can you just move for a second, hon?” she asks gently. “I need to hook up some more fluids."

"Oh yeah, sure, of course..." Peter nods groggily and goes to stand up a little too quickly. The moment he is on his feet, he can practically feel the blood rushing away from his head, and a wave of darkness rolls over him. Peter grabs for something to hold on to but comes up empty. He feels himself sway into the nurse, who grabs his shoulders and just about manages to keep him from face planting on the hospital floor.

“You’re really warm, dear,” she observes after helping him sit back down on the chair. "You really can't be here if you're not a patient. Let me call someone to get you a bed."

“But I—” Peter feels panic swelling in his chest. He doesn’t want to leave Tony alone, especially when he can’t be sure that the man’s heart won’t stop again, but he can’t let anyone find out about Spider-Man either―

"Peter, it's fine,” he hears a thin voice. Tony, just woken up, is shifting wearily under the blanket, turning his head towards them. “They'll sign NDAs and no one will know. Just do what she says and get in the bed, alright?"

So Peter does. The nurse calls her colleague, who sets up a bed next to Tony’s and takes Peter’s vitals. After Peter groggily explains that fever reducers won’t do anything to bring down his 103.5 degree temperature, the nurse hooks him up to fluids to counteract the dehydration.

The world goes blurry again and he is half asleep when he sees Tony slip something into the elderly nurse’s hand on her way out the door.  

When she’s gone, Peter gives Tony a confused look. “You bribed her to let me stay in the room?” 

“What are you talking about?” Tony scoffs lightly. “I just asked nicely and told her you took part in saving the world―that was more than enough.” He shrugs a bit. “And I might’ve signed an autograph for her son.” 

Peter would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn’t hurting so much. “Still a bribe,” he mumbles.

“Go to sleep, kid,” Tony says warmly.

He closes his eyes but then opens them again to see Tony watching him. “You’ll be okay, right?” Peter asks. 

“Of course,” Tony replies. “I’m always okay.”

*

When Peter wakes up again in the early evening, it’s to May lightly stroking his curls out of his face. A tension he didn’t even know he was holding seems to fall off his shoulders.

“Hey, baby,” she says softly when he hugs her. “Rough weekend, huh?” 

It is decided that neither of them has to spend the night at the hospital―Tony has to fight to be discharged, but they eventually let him go after making him promise to rest, take his medicine, and tell May if his heart acts up again. In turn, Tony collects each of the staff members’ contact details to have his lawyers send NDAs later. 

The drive back to the flat is quiet. Tony attempts small talk for the first five minutes, but is still too out of it from the combined force of illness and drugs, and quickly gives up again. Peter is just relieved that May is there. 

Once they’re home, May makes both of them eat some toast and then ushers them off to bed. Peter feels like he hasn’t slept since he moved to Virginia, and maybe that’s true in a way. But now with Tony and May both there, he finally feels like it’s safe to let himself go. 

*

He wakes up to May opening the windows to let in the chilly morning air.

“C’n I have some water?” he mumbles. 

May hands him the glass. “Your fever has come down a bit overnight. Feeling any better?” she asks. 

“Hmm.” He’s still weary and headachey, but the chills are gone and the world seems much less frightening now. “How’s Tony?” he asks.

“Still asleep. We talked a little last night—he didn’t get much rest, I’m afraid. But you should wake him up and tell him it’s time for food and medicine.”

Peter sits up and is rewarded with a lack of dizziness. He goes to the toilet and washes his face before trudging over to the bed and sitting down carefully on the mattress next to his mentor’s sleeping form. Tony’s eyes are moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids as if he’s in the middle of a dream. His hair is a greasy mess, the scars as red and angry as before and his cheeks still flushed with fever, but the rest of his face isn’t as pale as it was the previous day, and, when he listens carefully, Peter can make out his regular heartbeat.

“Tony?” Peter whispers, gently touching his flesh shoulder. 

Tony grunts and rolls himself over. “Pep?” he asks in a muffled voice. 

“Not exactly.” Tony blinks awake and squints up at Peter. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh…I want my hospital drugs back,” Tony half-jokes. “But not on the verge of cardiac failure anymore, so that’s a plus.”

“Hmm.” Peter reaches for his hand to check the smart watch. “Your temperature’s down.” Tony’s is at 101.5, whereas Peter’s is at 100.7. Tony gives first the numbers and then Peter a critical once-over before closing his eyes again. 

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Peter warns. “May said you need to take your medicine and eat something.”

Tony groans audibly. “Nurses never let you have any fun...” 

*

The first time they met, Peter wasn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

Times have changed, Peter thinks, as he surveys the scene in his apartment. 

After a painfully slow shuffle to the bathroom and back, Tony decides that he doesn’t feel up to walking around just yet, so they all eat breakfast in bed, assembled on various pillows and blankets, while Star Trek plays on the TV in the background. With his appetite returning and worries temporarily lifted, Peter devours two pieces of toast with chocolate spread and a glass of orange juice while Tony sticks to saltines, tea, and the pills he swallows under May’s watchful eye. 

When they’re done, May announces that she’s heading out for groceries. “No crime-fighting until I’m back,” she orders with a smile. “And I want each of you to finish the water bottles on the table.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Tony salutes sarcastically. The moment May shuts the door, he sets down his half-finished cup of tea and slumps visibly into his pillows. 

“You alright?” Peter asks immediately. 

“Jeez, kid, you’re worse than Morgan,” Tony comments, not without affection. “I know last night was scary for you, but honestly, this is not even in my top 20 for life-threatening events I’ve experienced in the last few decades.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Peter retorts. “Because it really doesn’t.”

He must have come across less playful than intended, because Tony’s expression sobers. He regards Peter with the deep look that always gives him the feeling of being x-rayed. 

“I know,” Tony says. “But that’s kind of the point. I’ve been through so much shit in my life that I know pretty much exactly how you feel.” 

He drags himself a bit more upright and lays a warm hand on Peter’s forearm. “I know how it is when your thoughts circle back to the same moment over and over again and the nightmares won’t let you rest. I know how easy it is to isolate yourself because the memories are eating you up and you feel like nobody can help you.”

He pauses for a moment and rubs a hand over his forehead. Peter remembers the darkness on Tony’s face the first time they met and wonders whether that’s what Tony sees on his now. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Tony continues, “you don’t have to pretend to be fine if you’re not. At least not in front of me or May.” 

The irony of it almost makes Peter smile, despite the lump forming in his throat. Tony just spent the last 36 hours trying to downplay the pain he was in. “You are one to talk,” he remarks.

Tony chuckles quietly. “Still learning, kid.” He picks up his tea cup and takes another sip before continuing in a softer voice. “Just trust me, it‘s okay to be a little broken, even when you’re not sick. And you don’t have to hide it. I know what loneliness looks like. I’ve been through all of it and it took me years to understand that the only thing that can help is to let other people in―the right kind of people.”

The thoughts are running a marathon in Peter’s head and he’s dimly aware that he’s trembling. He swallows hard before speaking. “It’s just… sometimes I don’t even want to remember. It’s just so hard to start talking. About”―he takes a deep breath―“the battle. And the dreams. And everything else.”

“Yeah, it is. I never said it would be easy.” Tony seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he pulls Peter toward him one-handedly so that they can lie side by side. He covers both of them with his blanket. Peter turns his head into Tony’s shoulder and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. “And we don’t have to start today. But I’ll be there whenever you’re ready.”

________________

If you liked this, you might also enjoy my other post-Endgame fic (in which Tony is obviously still alive): What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Almost There

Pairing: Tony Stark x C.I.A platonic!reader (Gender neutral)

Request: The reader is a real life federal agent, and is task to go into the mcu to bring tech out. The reader is given a teleporter, fake ID, money, and a pistol. The plan is to steal a truck full of Stark tech and be transported back. When the reader enters the MCU they wake up in an abandoned warehouse. They spent several months gathering information, practicing and discovering what'sx different inside the MCU. One day they put the plan into action everything goes to plan until the transporter is broken at the rendezvous point. (From the real world point) The reader is then captured by stark and interrogated about them not existing. The reader in the end stays quiet but before they're arrested the battle of N.Y happens and they escape wondering what to do.

Warnings: some cursing, cocky reader, being rude to Tony Stark (sorry to Tony lovers)

Word Count: 1663

A/N: This was requested by @iawaythrown. Thank you so much for the request. I hope you like it. I also tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible. I’m sorry if I did not. This is not Beta read, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

I had a mission. It was all planned out, all I had to do was follow instructions. Of course things here never seem to pan out the way you want, and of course I was seemingly suspicious. No wonder he caught me. No wonder I’m now trapped here. 

Okay, I’m getting way ahead of myself. I’m not from this universe, reality, or whatever you want to call it. I’m from a world where this character was just that, a character! Now I’m here with no plan, no mission, no escape, and no Stark Tech.

Yes, you heard me right, I was after some Stark Tech, but here I am being interrogated by Tony Stark himself. Now, for how I got to this point, that’s easy. I’m a CIA Agent, and given the almost impossible task of gathering as much Stark Tech as I possibly could in a truck, and bringing it back to my world. Most likely to be used, or improved, to be given to the people in my time. You know, to speed up the process of technological advancement.

I never asked questions though, that wasn’t my place. All I know is that I had to come here with the transporter, gather as much Stark Tech, as discreetly as possible, and meet at the rendezvous point before anyone found out what I was doing.

Alright, enough of me summarizing what happened, and didn’t happen. Allow me to enlighten you a bit. I’ll spare you the details of the full mission brief, not very brief if you ask me, and get down to my adventures here in the MCU.

“You ready for this?” One of my coworkers asked, helping me prepare for my journey.

“I’m so excited. I have studied every single person I will be getting to know in this world. I spent hundreds of dollars, and did lots of bargaining to get every last copy of the comics for the 6 members of the Avengers. As well as all the Avengers comics.”

“You’ve worked hard for this mission. You seem more dedicated than usual.” They spoke, handing me my bag and wallet with fake ID and money.

We walked over to the transporter where everyone else was waiting. I was given one last bit of information on how to get out before I was told where to stand.

“Just a warning, you may feel a bit nauseous, or you might pass out on entry. Just find Stark and the others as soon as you can. We cannot waste any time.”

“Yes sir.” My commanding officer then starts up the transporter, and I’m sent away in a flash of white light.

When I awoke I was in a warehouse. I got up quickly, and walked outside. I had studied every map of New York City I could find. I knew how to get to Stark Tower from every possible place I could land. I started to make my way to the tower. 

My disguise was his new secretary, and I honestly thought that was a genius idea. When I got to Stark Tower, I was greeted by the doorman asking me for my identification. I gladly obliged and he allowed me inside, showing me to Tony Stark’s office.

“You are my new secretary?” He asked, laying eyes on me. He didn’t seem too impressed with me, but that didn’t matter.

“I am. If you have a problem with that, then I will see myself out. Just so you know though, you won’t find anyone better than me.”

“I see your people skills are lacking, but your persuasiveness is impressive.” He smirked, and showed me around.

I was in! This was my chance to get as close to him as possible without him realising why I was actually there. Tony started with his part of the tower. He said that it would be mostly off limits unless I truly needed him. 

The next part was my favorite. He was showing me where he came up with all his inventions, and that’s where I made my first grab. Of course he had to be something small that he would barely notice was gone, and a discarded prototype, which he showed me plenty.

This went on for about a month. I would always end up finding him in the lab, purposely of course. As he would leave, I would sneak a piece of tech. As time went on I gathered bigger and better tech and loaded them into a U-Haul truck that I rented to take back to my world. 

I only hoped that no one had caught on to what I was doing, but I didn’t think so. The day finally came, and I had to tell Tony I had to part ways with him. He seemed to really enjoy the work I was doing for him, but I guess I would just have to live with that I guess.

“Hey there is my favorite secretary.” He grinned, chuckling some

“I’m currently your only secretary.” I said, not very amused.

His grin faded, and he cleared his throat, “anyway, I want to show you something. My latest invention.”

My curiosity peaked, and I had almost forgotten what I came down to the lab for, “latest invention?”

“Yep, granted the project had been set back. For some reason I kept misplacing some of the tech needed to complete it.”

“You misplace things? That’s shocking to me.”

“I don’t usually, but for some reason more recently my mind has been clouded.”

“I wonder why?” I asked, being genuine. I may be stealing him, and making him think he’s losing it, but I’m not heartless.

Tony just chuckles, and brushes off the question. He always liked to share as long as there was a little pity to him, then he would move on. It annoyed me a little, but at the same time, I was used to it.

Tony led me to where his new invention was. He did warn it may not intrigue me, for it was more of an upgrade for his Iron Man suit. When he showed me, I was absolutely amazed. There would be no way that I could sneak this new piece of tech, but you bet I was going to try.

“Tony, I have something I have to tell you, and you probably won’t like it.”

“I knew it! All of my tech started disappearing after you showed up!” He jumped to conclusions.

“Uh, I was going to say I have to leave. My mother has fallen ill, and I am the last close family member to care for her. So, today will be my last day.” I spoke, looking confused at his accusation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. What is she sick with, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She is in severe kidney and liver failure due to her heavy alcoholism after my father left her.” I said too casually, but he did not question me.

“So, where ya headed?”

“Maine. Specifically Augusta, Maine.”

“I see. It will be hard to see you go, but I understand how important family is. Before you go, come up to the penthouse, so I can give you a proper goodbye.” With that, Tony walked upstairs leaving me alone.

I knew him leaving me in the lab alone was a test. He was obviously on to me, and as much as I wanted to steal that new piece of tech, I had to leave it be, but I now had a lot of the tech to recreate it myself.

I of course did not want to say goodbye to Tony properly. He was just a pawn in a bigger game. I knew that I wasn’t playing a better, or bigger role, but more important than him. I made my way outside, and back to the abandoned warehouse where I kept the U-Haul truck. 

I climbed in and headed to the rendezvous point. I was of course nervous about everything going wrong now that I was so close to getting back home. I made it to my point, and it was almost time to head back. Though, when it was time to head back, something went wrong. I couldn’t get the transporter to work.

That’s when I heard a car heading my way. I couldn’t help but begin to panic, and I kept hitting the transporter button. That’s when I heard the car stop a few feet behind me. The car door opened then closed, but I dare not turn around.

“This is the opposite direction of Maine, sweetheart.” Of course, this was just my luck.

“Yeah. I realise that.” I was extremely frustrated at this point.

“Open the truck.”

“Absolutely not! You do not have the authority to search my things.”

“I could get the proper authorities involved.”

I glare at him. I was not going to be threatened like this, but I could not use my authority here in this world. I technically didn’t exist. Not to mention I would blow my entire cover and mission.

“Or you could come with me, and explain what you’re doing with a truckload of my tech.”

I had no choice but to follow him. I had to remain as innocent as I could until he had enough evidence to prove I’m not.

Now you are all caught up to now. Nothing else has happened since then. Tony has since left me alone, and hasn’t returned. I think I hear something happening outside. This may be the only chance I would have to run. You bet I will be making a break for it. If I no longer update on my story, assume I made it back home, or I haven’t been captured by Stark and his posse of weirdos. 

That’s it for now. Thanks for listening to my weird story. Just make sure to burn this once you have finished. Unless you’re Tony Stark, then you can suck it. Y/n out.

[coolgreatwebsite]

Cool Games I Finished In 2020 (In No Real Order)

Oh, hey! Right! I have a website! I’m like a week late on writing this, but what’s a week on top of an entire year of not writing, right? 2020 was... well, we all know what 2020 was. For me personally, it was simultaneously the best and worst year of my life. The worst in both ways you can probably assume and ways you definitely can’t (neither of which I’ll be getting into), and the best in ways I absolutely never would have guessed. That uncertain job I mentioned last year got very suddenly much more certain, at a much bigger company, for a much larger amount of money. That allowed me to get my own place, making my weird living situation much less weird. Still haven’t gotten the majority of my belongings off of the east coast, but if the entire world wasn’t currently fucked up by a global pandemic I’d have sorted all that out too. What I’m saying is that, for the third year in a row, my life has been a complete whirlwind that has left me very little time to get comfortable with any aspect of it. But I did manage to play more video games than I did last year! Which is perfect, because it’s once again time for another one of these. Here’s a bunch of cool games I experienced for the first time in 2020.

Astro’s Playroom (PlayStation 5, 2020)

My one word description of Astro's Playroom is "delightful". It's just an absolute goddamn delight. A total surprise too! Included with every PlayStation 5, Astro's Playroom is, in my opinion, one of the best pack-in games of all time.

First off, it's an incredible tech demo for the PS5's new DualSense controller. It was easy to brush off Sony's talk about the controller's haptic feedback and triggers as some Nintendo-style HD Rumble bullshit, but it really is incredibly cool once you get your hands on it. The game is obviously more than a tech demo though, or else it wouldn't be on here. It also just so happens to be an extremely solid and fun platformer on top of that. Astro controls exceptionally well and the levels are all well-designed and fun, even the gimmick vehicle ones designed to show off different features of the controller. It also has an oddly compelling speedrun mode, made all the more compelling by the PS5 notifying you when your friends beat your times and the ability to load into it within two seconds from anywhere on the console. But the biggest thing for me and, call me a mark, because I am, is that the game is an honestly incredible love letter to PlayStation history.

For the first time ever, Sony has pulled off a nostalgia piece without it ending up as embarrassing garbage in the vein of PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale. There's a Nintendo-like joyful reverence for all things PlayStation oozing out of every single corner of this game. There are so many nods and references and gags for literally every PlayStation thing of note throughout the the last 25 years, and then on top of that there's a whole heap more for the things that AREN'T of note that only hyperdorks like me would get! A sly reference to the ill-fated boomerang controller? Yep. A goof on the fat PS3's Spider-Man font? You betcha. A trophy you can earn by repeatedly punching a Sony Interactive Entertainment sign until it breaks and reveals the Sony Computer Entertainment sign it was slapped on top of? Yeah buddy. It's deep cuts all the way down, even up until the final boss which had me grinning like a total dipshit the entire time. The game is endlessly, effortlessly charming.

Animal Crossing: New Horizons (Nintendo Switch, 2020)

Animal Crossing: New Horizons was the perfect game at the perfect time. That doesn't mean it's a perfect game, I actually have some issues with it, but it could not have released at a better time than when it did. It came out at the very very beginning of everyone going into lockdown due to the pandemic, and it was the biggest game in the world for a couple of months as a result. I played like 300 hours and that pales in comparison to the amount of time many others put into it.

Animal Crossing: New Horizons is the most different Animal Crossing game there's ever been, and I'm of two minds on it. Like, I loved the game, I played a ton of it, but it's lacking so much of the stuff that made me love Animal Crossing in the first place. The series has been slowly trending in this direction for a bit now, but it's not really a game that happens around you anymore. It's all about total player control. You select where everything goes, you customize every detail of everything to your liking, hell, you can even terraform the landmass to be exactly what you want. Your neighbors take a backseat in focus and end up as little more than decorations with limited dialogue and next to no quests associated with them. Series staples like Gyroids are missing in action. Facilities and services that have been around since Wild World aren't implemented. It's similar to past Animal Crossing games in a lot of ways, but on the whole it feels like a different thing.

But like I said, two minds. New Horizons strays from what I truly want from an Animal Crossing game, but I can't deny that the game as it is is a hell of a lot of fun. There's SO much you can do and SO many options, it's super addictive. Plus it implemented my long-requested feature of letting you effortlessly send mail to friends online! Too bad the actual online play is as cumbersome as ever.

In conclusion, Animal Crossing: New Horizons is a land of contrasts. I'm kidding. It's good, but definitely missing something in a way where I can understand some people being disappointed in it. I had a ton of fun though, and I'm probably going to get back into it later in 2021.

Trials of Mana (Nintendo Switch, 2019)

Late in 2019, with the physical release of Collection of Mana for the Switch, I decided I was going to play through each game on it for the first time and finally find out what this whole Mana thing was about. I went into Final Fantasy Adventure (the first game in the Mana series, because every RPG had to be Final Fantasy back then) with zero expectations and found a totally serviceable little Zelda-like with light RPG elements. I enjoyed my time with it. I went into Secret of Mana with the expectation of it being a beloved classic and found the worst game I beat that year, hands down. That game fucking sucks. I get why it made an impression on people at the time, but it's just so so SO awful to play. Needless to say I was pretty disappointed. Honestly, I would have been disappointed even if I hadn't heard it was one of "the best games" for so long. It would have been a disappointing follow-up to Final Fantasy Adventure, a game that in and of itself isn't anything incredible. Secret of Mana is just that rotten.

I braced myself for more disappointment when (after a much needed vacation from the series) I started up Trials of Mana. This game had a reputation too, as a long-lost classic that never made it stateside. One of the best games on the Super Nintendo, criminally never released for western audiences! Like Secret of Mana before it, I'd heard nothing but effusive praise. Unlike Secret of Mana, however, I was very pleased to find out that Trials of Mana mostly lives up to the hype. From a gameplay standpoint, Trials is an improvement on Secret in almost every single way. It's not perfect. The menus are still kinda clunky, animations for things like magic and items are still frequently disruptive. But the main thing is it actually plays like a sensible video game designed by humans with brains. Attacking is responsive! Hitboxes aren't complete nonsense! You don't constantly get stunlocked to death! There are more answers to combat than casting the same spell for five straight minutes to kill your enemies before they get a chance to move! It's great!

On top of being an enjoyable video game to actually play, the presentation is top notch. Secret of Mana could be a pretty game with decent music in some spots, but Trials is consistently gorgeous and the soundtrack is across the board great instead of randomly having songs that sound like clown vomit. And while Trials of Mana doesn't have the deepest story in the world, it manages to avoid being completely paper-thin like Secret. The story actually kind of has a reason for being a bit straightforward, and the reason is that it has a really cool system where you pick your three playable characters from a pool of six. Each character has their own goals and storyline, some of which line up with other potential party members, some of which don't, and you'll even run into the characters you didn't choose as NPCs along the way. This and the relatively brisk pace of the game make it highly replayable.

I'm really glad that Trials of Mana made it over here in an official capacity, even if it was like 25 years late. It's as good as I expected Secret of Mana to be and singlehandedly saved my interest in seeing any more of the series. I'm aware the quality of what came after is very spotty, but I'll get to the rest eventually!

Final Fantasy VII Remake (PlayStation 4, 2020)

They (almost) did it. They (basically) pulled it off. They remade (a chunk of) Final Fantasy VII and (for the most part) didn't fuck it up. Ok, funny parentheticals aside, Final Fantasy VII Remake is astoundingly good coming off of over two decades of just absolutely dreadful post-FF7 sequels, side games, and movies.

Final Fantasy VII has been historically misremembered as this kind of miserable, angsty, brooding thing, both by fans and by the company that made it. FF7-branded media after FF7 itself is a minefield of changed personalities, embarrassing original characters, and monumentally lame stories. Final Fantasy VII Remake is the first post-FF7 anything that actually remembers the characters, setting, and plot of Final Fantasy VII and what made them memorable and special to people in the first place. Which isn't to say it's a slavish recreation! There's a ton of changes and additions, and I actually like almost all of them! Except for some really big stuff I'll touch on in a bit!

The combat in Final Fantasy VII Remake is great. I was super skeptical about it when the game was first announced, but they actually managed to make the blend of real-time action and turn-based RPG menuing fun and engaging. The characters all play super differently from each other too, which is a huge and welcome difference from the original game. The Materia system fits like a glove in this revamped combat system as well. The remixed music is good as hell, and the visuals are beautiful (outside of a couple of very specific spots that I'm kinda of surprised they haven't fixed in a patch yet). It's a well-executed package all around.

But alas, as always, there are negatives. For starters, this is only part one of the overall Final Fantasy VII Remake project. It goes up to the party leaving Midgar which, as you may or may not recall, is the first six hours of the original game. They compensated for this by fleshing the hell out of the Midgar section the game, ballooning the overall playtime to total of about 30-ish hours. The game feeling padded is a common complaint but for what it's worth, I didn't really feel it until the unnecessarily long final dungeon, There's also the previously mentioned and funny parenthetical'd changes and additions I don't like.

This is big time spoilers for this game so if you don't want that jump ahead to the next game on the list. The Whispers suck ass. Final Fantasy VII Remake should have been brave enough to be different without having to constantly derail everything in the most ham-fisted and intrusive way possible. You can have Jessie twist her ankle without making a spooky plot ghost trip her. I don't want to fight the physical manifestation of the game everyone thought they were getting as an end boss. If you're not doing a straight remake, that's fine, but have the fucking guts to stand by your artistic decisions without feeling the need to invent the lamest deus ex machina I've ever fucking seen. The last couple of hours of this game are 100% about the Whispers and are awful for it. It's a true testament to the strength of the rest of Final Fantasy VII Remake that this aspect didn't completely sour me on it. I can only hope that they stay dead and gone for good in the games yet to come and the remake can be different while standing on its own two feet.

I truly cannot wait for the next entry in the Final Fantasy VII Remake project. I'm excited for Final Fantasy VII in a way I haven't been since the late 90s. I have a bit of trepidation that they could royally screw it up. I mean, they already got kinda close, as I said in my last paragraph. But they got so much right in this entry that, for the first time in decades, I'm willing to believe in Square Enix when it comes to Final Fantasy VII.

13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim (PlayStation 4, 2020)

My one word description of 13 Sentinels is "fucking crazy". I realize that's two words, but shut up. A bizarre hybrid of visual novel, adventure game, and strategy RPG, 13 Sentinels not only makes that work, but makes it work incredibly well. 

The story is fucking bonkers. It's told entirely non-linearly and is purposefully dense and confusing, but it does an amazing job of hooking you with a cast of likable characters and some impressively well-paced twists, made all the more impressive by the fact that you can tackle the story in basically whatever order you want. I'll say it again for those in the back, the story is Fucking Bonkers. Wherever you think it's going, it's not going. Where it is going is PLACES. Seriously, if you want a wild goddamn ride, this is the game for you. The presentation is also stunning. It's a drop dead gorgeous game with a really nice soundtrack. Easily Vanillaware's best looking game, which is saying something seeing as looking good is Vanillaware's whole deal.

If I had to levy one criticism against the game, it's that the strategy RPG portion is just kind of ok. It's enjoyable enough, it doesn't get in the way and there's not too much of it, but once it starts introducing armored versions of previous enemy types it's kind of done doing anything different. It is really good at getting people to out themselves as having no idea what tower defense is as a genre though!

Hyrule Warriors: Definitive Edition (Nintendo Switch, 2018)

I haven't really historically been a "Musou Guy". Not to say I've actively disliked them, they're just not something I've seeked out very often or played very much of. Hyrule Warriors: Definitive Edition kinda turned me into a "Musou Guy" a little bit? It's good, surprisingly-less-mindless-than-you'd-think fun.

I actually super don't care about the Zelda branding. I think all the fanservice stuff is meh at best. What I do care about is that there's a ton of character variety and a metric shitload of content. There's so many different characters and weapons for those characters that all play differently from one another and SOOOOOO many levels to play. Like the story mode is, again, kinda meh, the real meat of the game is the Adventure mode and there's a ton of it. It's 8 different world maps, each based off a different Zelda game, with each square of the map containing a little mini-scenario with unique objectives and rewards. There has to be at least 1000 scenarios between all the maps. There's so much. And that's not even getting into some of the other side stuff like the challenge modes and the fairy raising. It's a crazy amount of game in this game.

And again, it's not as mindless as it'd seem. It's not really a game ABOUT destroying 5000 guys, it's an area control and resource management game where the 5000 guys are one of those resources. Knowing who to send where and when to fight who is way more important than pressing the XXX YYY XXX YYY on the more than one million troops.

I'd say that if you're even cursorily potentially maybe interested in a musou game, this is the one to try. And if you like it, it could literally be your forever game. A sequel came out recently too, and I'm looking forward to trying that out soon.

Phantasy Star Online 2 (Xbox One, 2020)

Phantasy Star Online 2 finally came stateside in the year 2020, eight years after its initial Japanese release and initial American cancellation. It's no Phantasy Star Online 1, but it is a really fun game in its own right provided you can find the willpower to break through its clunkiness and eight years of confusing poorly tutorialized free-to-play MMO cruft.

The main thing going for PSO2, and this is a major improvement from PSO1, is that the act of engaging in its combat is fun. The combat is just feels really really good. There's a bunch of different weapon types and classes, and once you find the ones that really click with you you're in for a good time, whether you're izuna dropping dudes with wire claws or literally doing air juggles and rainstorm from Devil May Cry with the dual machine guns.

The other stuff around that combat is weird. I generally like it, but it's weird. The story mode is one of the most bizarrely presented things I've ever seen. It apparently used to be something you'd seek out in the levels themselves, but presently it's just a list of scenes you pick from a menu and watch with next to no context until it makes you fight a boss sometimes. There's some weird moments in there that MIGHT have been cool if it were presented in literally any other way?

The systems and presentation are also way more... I dunno, pinball? Pachislot? In very stark contrast to how chill original Phantasy Star Online was, everything in PSO2 is designed in a way to maximize that flashy light bing bing wahoo you got ~*~RARE DROP CHANCE UP~*~  feeling. Which isn't to say I don't like flashy light bing bing wahoo, but it's a weird different thing.

Was it worth the wait? Yeah, sure! For me! This is another one that I played like 300 hours of! I haven't even seen half of it, I fell off right before Episode 4 released because it coincided with my move! I'm gonna go back and see all that shit! PSO2's fun! A different flavor of fun than the original, sure, but fun all the same. Another one that I'm glad finally made it over here.

Riichi Mahjong (A Table, 1924)

Holy shit I fucking did it I finally learned how to play Mahjong and it rules.

It started when I picked up Clubhouse Games for the Switch. I saw that it had Riichi Mahjong and something in my brain snapped. For whatever reason, I decided that this was the time I was going to rip the band-aid off and figure this shit out. It wasn't too dissimilar to the first time I decided to try eggs, but that's a different and much stupider story for a different time. I did the tutorial in Clubhouse Games, looked up some more basics and advice because the tutorial wasn't super amazing, and I kept playing while being aided by the game's nice helper features like the button that pulls up recommended hands. I kept playing and... sorta got it. I learned the basic rules, but none of the strategy. And then I stopped playing for a few months.

In that few months, for whatever reason, a decent amount of people I know had their brains snap the same way? Like a more-than-two amount of people I'm either friends with or following online also decided to learn Mahjong. I decided to get back on the horse and downloaded Mahjong Soul and I don't know whether it was perseverance or the power of anime babes, but this time I got it. I still refer to a sheet with all the hands and whether they work open or closed, and I'm by no means a master player, but I actually honest to god understand what I'm doing and it's an incredible feeling.

Mahjong has such a huge amount of what I like to call "Get That Ass" energy. It is the energy you feel when you get someone's ass. In Mahjong you are either constantly getting someone's ass or getting your ass gotten. Someone puts down the wrong tile and you fucking GET THEIR ASS DUDE! They're got!! They're a fucking idiot that put down the wrong thing and now you have their points!!! Or you draw what you need yourself and you're a brain genius all according to plan and everyone gives you points because you're so wise!!!! It's great!!!!!

Mahjong has long been one of those games where I'd say "I'll learn this someday" and never reeeeally actually try to learn, and I'm so glad I finally took the effort to because it's good as hell. And, truth be told, it wasn't THAT hard to learn? Like you can get to the point where I was where I didn't know the strategy fairly easily in my opinion, and once you do that It's just a matter of continuing to play to understand the rest. I highly recommended that you also go out and learn it if you similarly revel in getting that ass, it's so satisfying once you do.

Yakuza: Like a Dragon (PlayStation 4, 2020)

Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio took a big gamble with Yakuza: Like a Dragon. After seven games (more if you take spinoffs and remakes into consideration) they decided to focus on a new main character and, even more unexpectedly, they decided to change things up by turning the series into a turn-based JRPG. Their gamble paid off in spades. This is easily in my top 3 favorite Yakuza games.

The JRPG gameplay is surprisingly solid. There's definite room for improvement, but they nailed a bunch of it right out of the gate. Some mechanics are a little janky and I wish the job system was more fleshed out or just worked more like Final Fantasy V's, but they nailed one of the most important things and made the battles brisk and fun. It's a great foundation, especially for a team that's never attempted anything like this, and it's way more fun than the combat's been in any of the previous Dragon Engine games. I can't wait to see them iterate on it.

Everything else is top fuckin' notch. The music is great, the side content is fully fleshed out in a way it hasn't been since before they switched to the Dragon Engine, and I love the characters and story so much. Yakuza has a new main character in Ichiban Kasuga, and he's my son and I love him. Kiryu was great, and I love him too, but he was a bit of a passive protagonist. Stuff happened around him and he mostly just stoically reacted to it. Ichi is a much more active lead and it's great. He's a big lovable dope, and his tendency to keep an upbeat attitude and eagerness to leap into action is such a breath of fresh air. And it's not only Ichiban, since this is an RPG you have a whole party of characters and they're all great! Having them with you at all times bantering with each other and reacting to things is another great change of narrative pace, too. 

Yakuza: Like a Dragon just straight up rules. As someone who has historically not been too much of a fan of the Dragon Engine games, it's simultaneously a refreshing new take on the series and a fantastic return to form. I can't wait for what comes next. Wherever Ichiban goes, I go.

Moon: Remix RPG Adventure (Nintendo Switch, 2020)

After 23 years of Japanese PS1 exclusivity, Moon: Remix RPG Adventure finally got an English release this year for Nintendo Switch. I'm glad it did, because Moon isn't just the very definition of A Sebmal Game. It's the Sebmal Game missing link. In addition to being just a great video game, it helped me make a mental throughline for a bunch of games I love and a large part of my taste in video games.

To keep a long story short (seriously, I have a much much longer version of this saved in my drafts that I'll maybe finish someday), Moon turned out to be not the JRPG I assumed it was, given the title and basic story pitch, but a secret prequel to a game I love named Chulip. Moon's developer, Love-de-Lic, was formed by a handful of ex-Squaresoft employees, many of which worked on an extremely formative game I love named Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars. Love-de-Lic broke up in the year 2000 and its staff went on to form a bunch of different studios that ended up making a BUNCH of different games I love like Chibi-Robo, Freshly-Picked Tingle's Rosy Rupeeland, Dandy Dungeon, and the aforementioned Chulip. These games, when you make the connection and line them up, all have a very distinct weirdness in common that makes perfect sense once you've realized many of the same people worked on them. Figuring this all out felt like snapping a piece of my brain back in place, and it was really crazy to come to understand exactly how much this studio that formed and disbanded decades before I'd even heard of them had impacted my tastes and, hell, my life.

So what is Moon, for those who don't innately understand what I mean by "a secret prequel to Chulip"? Moon is an adventure game where you explore a world with a day/night cycle, learn about that world's inhabitants, and eventually solve their problems. Think of it kind of like The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, but if the sidequests were the entirety of the focus with no Groundhog Day time reset mechanic and none of the Zelda stuff like combat and dungeons. You play as a young boy who, after a late night JRPG binge session, is sucked into the world of the game he was just playing. Everything is off from the way it was portrayed while the boy was playing the game, though. The hero he had previously controlled is actually a silent menace, raiding peoples' houses for treasure and slaughtering every innocent animal that crosses his path in an endless quest for EXP. The townspeople seem more concerned with problems in their day-to-day lives than the supposed world threatening crisis outlined in the game's intro. It's up to you as the boy to investigate this world's mysteries, help the townsfolk, mend the damage the hero has done, and eventually restore love to a loveless world.

Speaking of love, I fucking loved Moon. I loved the story, I loved the characters, I loved the music, I loved the way it looks (even though the Switch port is a little crusty in that basic emulator-y kinda way), I loved how constantly bizarre and surprising and funny it was. Like I said earlier, it's the very definition of a game made for me. It was essentially the progenitor of a long line of games made for me, and of games potentially made for me but I don't know yet because I haven't played them due to not understanding Japanese (UFO: A Day in the Life translation next please? Anyone from Onion Games reading this??). For as similar as Moon and Chulip are in their systems and pacing, I think I might actually like Moon better despite it coming earlier? It's not as full force maximum impact absurd as Chulip is, but it is a lot more playable and less obtuse once you get a grip on the time limit mechanic. You don't need a full strategy guide included in the instruction manual for Moon, and you don't need to exchange business cards with every single character to get information vital to finishing the game either.

I truly cannot recommend Moon enough if your taste in games ventures anywhere off the beaten path. Maybe this is a little conceited of me, but I assume if you're reading this article, let alone this far down into it, you relate to my video game opinions at least a little bit? You should play Moon. Everyone reading this sentence should play Moon. Moon: Remix RPG Adventure is my game of the year for the year 2020.

These games were also cool, I just had less to say about them:

Death Stranding (PlayStation 4, 2019): Death Stranding, much like Metal Gear Solid V, was a game I enjoyed for the gameplay and not much else. The story, characters, and writing were a huge disappointment for me, but man if I didn't enjoy lugging those boxes around and setting up my hellish cross-continental goon summer camp lookin' zipline network. Mr. Driller Drill Land (Nintendo Switch, 2020): I am a known Mr. Driller Enjoyer, and I enjoyed this Mr. Driller. Originally released for the Gamecube, Mr. Driller Drill Land is another long-time Japanese exclusive that finally came stateside this year and it's packed with new and novel twists on the Mr. Driller format. It looks super sharp, the music's great (also the credits music is the most impossibly out of place and extra as hell shit in the world and it's hilarious), and it's just a good ass time. The main campaign is pretty damn short, but if you're a post-game content kinda guy it has that and it's all super hard. Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 1+2 (PlayStation 4, 2020): They finally made another good new Tony Hawk game, and all it took was perfectly remaking two of the best old Tony Hawk games! Plays exactly like you remember it with the added benefit of the best mechanics from up to THUG1, looks great, packed full of content, even has most of the music alongside some mostly crappy new stuff. It's the full package as is, but I do hope they end up adding THPS3 to it eventually. Mad Rat Dead (Nintendo Switch, 2020): Mad Rat Dead was a pleasant surprise that I only picked up because I saw a couple of people on my Twitter timeline constantly talking about it. A fun and inventive platformer where all your actions need to be on beat with the music. The gameplay feels great (aside from some not so great performance issues on Switch), the soundtrack is fun, and it's got a real good style to it. Demon's Souls (PlayStation 5, 2020): I love Demon's Souls and this is Demon's Souls. It plays exactly the same with some minor quality of life changes. I don't agree with many of the artistic changes, but there's no denying it looks incredible on a technical level. If you want to play Demon's Souls again or for the first time, this is a perfectly valid and fun way to do so. Groove Coaster: Wai Wai Party!!!! (Nintendo Switch, 2019): Groove Coaster is one of my favorite rhythm games, and they finally made an acceptable at-home version with Wai Wai Party. It's not a perfect replication of the arcade game control-wise, I have some issues with the song choices, and the pricing is frankly fucking ridiculous if you're not a Groove Coaster maniac like I am, but the same ultra satisfying gameplay is all there. You can even play it vertically in handheld mode! Flip Griiiiiiiip!

And we're done! Phew! Honestly didn't realize I played that many good games until I typed all this out. Thanks as always for reading this far. I'm gonna try and get back to regularly posting Breviews this year at the very least. Honestly don't know if I'll get anything else up on here, but we'll see. Here's to hoping 2021 is a little bit less of a nightmare!

[parkjess]

hi thank you for doing the rocky imagine on the beach. i was wondering if i could request one for sanha when him and the reader are best friends but they like each other and one day they were having a sleep over which led to them play fighting and sanha throws the reader on his bed and he falls on top of them. they both get flustered but feel confident enough to confess their feelings for each other. again no rush🤗. thank you😊!

That’s cute!

Thank you for requesting again!🥰❤️

{Y/L/N- your last name}

“Oof,” you sigh, leaning on the back of the chair, crossing your arms against your chest. “It’s been a stressful month isn’t it?” You ask your best friend, who was nearly explosion from studying too hard for the past month, but luckily this is your last test for this year, it was kind of relieving but you had to pass this test as well.

-“I’m dying!” Sanha whines in response, holding his head in his hands that leaned on the desk. The library was almost empty since it was already getting dark and usually people aren’t coming after 6 pm.

You yawn and open your eyes right after to see Sanha eyeing you from the side, this sight of him made your heart melt since you liked him for years now, but kept it only to yourself. “Yo, let’s get some food.” You tell him, hitting his arm slightly to wake him up from the daydream he fell into. “Come on, glucose won’t hurt you now.” You giggle since the last test was biology, his and yours favorite subject, but this test seems to kill both your brains.

-“Ugh~ don’t say that word in the next three months.” He whines again while rolling his eyes as you pull his hand to help him stand up. His tall figure stands in front of you, tightening the grip of his backpack after putting everything back in, and he asks, -“So, are you taking me to McDonald’s?” He smiles at you, his eyes are quite sleepy but he tries to stay awake. “Fine, everything for my fries-lover baby.” You roll your eyes and head out of the library, nodding goodbye at the librarian and he giggles right after he calmed down from the jump his heart made for you calling him “baby”.

Fast forward to after taking the exam...

“Yoon sanha!” You shout in the hallway of your school, this is the last test you both had to take and it felt like doing it for 10 hours but it actually was 3. -“Hey!” He waves his hand at you, seeing you from the hella crowded hallway, only he could see you thanks to his height.

You followed the wave of his hand since you couldn’t really focus on his face between all of these people, and when you reached you jumped on him.

“We did it!” You shout loudly, hugging his neck after he catches your body, holding you tight. -“Woah, what’s up with you?” Sanha puts you down after spinning in his place with you in his arms while in the air.

“Can’t I just be happy we’re finally done with this sh-“ he stops you as he puts his hand on your mouth since people started to look at you weirdly. You slap his hand off your mouth and pout, “Aish...” you sigh, “let’s go celebrate.” You say at once as he puts his arm over your shoulder.

“No- I’m not paying, and we’re not getting McDonald’s again.” You say before he even approves, seeing his disappointment appearing slowly as you speak.

-“How about cinema night?”

“How about a sleepover, at my place?” You don’t even bother listening to his option in the first place since you had planned and wanted to have a sleepover with him forever now, and you two always met for studies.

-“Cool, ill bring the snacks.” He agrees with a huge smile, nearly jumping from excitement though his words don’t match his actions.

“Great! See you then.” You said and left your friend in the crowded hallway that became empty as time passed.

-“Wait...” he tried to say but you already escaped, rushing as if somebody was calling your name.

It was almost midnight when you heard a knock on the door, you finished fixing small details in your room and walked towards the door to open.

-“I brought snacks!” Is the first thing your extremely tall besties says as he raises a bag full of chips and Doritos. You giggle at him as you shove a piece of chocolate muffin your mouth, closing the door after he steps in. “You know you didn’t have to...” you say as you walk into your bedroom, it was organized and clean, pillows all over your bed, and even some neatly placed on the floor, even the snacks were organized well in little plates.

-“Woah, since when you clean your room?” He jokes, you reply with a slight hit on his arm which makes him fake crying. “Oh right, I’ll be right back.” You say as you get reminded of something, handing him the remote control to choose a movie to watch in the meantime.

“I made your favorite cheesecake. And before you’ll think something, it’s only because we’re done with school finally.” Think something... You didn’t want him to think you have a crush on him, though you really do have.

A small smile plastered on his face and got bigger as he stared at you with sparkles in his eyes, you could notice the stars in them, even a whole galaxy.

-“Thanks y/n-“ before he even says your name, you cut him off and steal the remote from his hands. “Did you choose a movie yet?” You say completely coldly, ignoring his overwhelmed face. -“Yah! What’s up with you? Why are you taking it like that?” He suddenly shouts, scared the hell out of you with his reaction, and all of the sudden a pillow hits your shoulder as he immediately apologizes with covering his mouth with his hand.

-“Oh my god y/n I didn’t mean to...” he mumbles under his hand. You closed your eyes impatiently, “YOON SANHA, WHAT DID YOU JUST-“ you take the pillow and throw back at him as he saw this coming and grabs another one, getting his revenge. You didn’t even know there’s feather inside your pillows but there are, and it’s now all over the place, luckily the door is closed so your parents (/siblings) can’t notice the mess you two made.

-“Y/L/n y/n get your senses back!” He shouts while you see him flying towards you, and both of you land on your comfy bed, Sanha is on top of you, only a pillow separating you from hitting your foreheads.

“Uhm... Sanha...” you whisper while both of you trying to realize what just happened, he holds himself by his hands on each side of yours supporting, yet your hands rest on his chest, accidentally ofcourse.

-“Y/n... uhm... I- you’re so beautiful...” he whispers almost to himself, but he’s surprised the words came out loudly for your ears to hear them too.

You hold back yourself from giggling from being too embarrassed at his compliment, which almost sounds like a confession, but can help but blush. “Stop... you’re making me blush.” You never thought you’d say this sentence to your best friend, and you cover your face, finally letting go of your grip of his shirt.

You felt something move and peek through your fingers to see him moving the pillow to support his body on top of yours as he slowly takes your hands away your face, -“You’re pretty, don’t hide your face. And that’s even cuter.” He meant the red blush that spread even faster on your cheeks.

“Shut the hell up-“ your inner beastie came out for a short moment as Sanha’s lips attacked yours, so gently but quick enough to stop your from finishing the sentence.

-“I guess you did first.” He giggles when his face slowly turns away from yours.

“I love you Sanha.” That sentence wasn’t interrupted in the middle, yet came out fluently from you, making both of panic a bit.

-“I love you more, I think...” he jokes at the end, glad it took him time to pick a movie. -“This is the movie I’ve been looking for.” You never knew his romantic, flirty side.

“Me too, Prince Charming. So, are we gonna stay like this any longer or...?”

-“Do you have a better idea to spend the night then kiss me again?”

“Good point.” You reply and pull him by neck for another session of butterflies dancing in your stomach.

[thetravelerwrites]

Arkag (Orc) MLM

Rating: Mature Relationship: Male Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Male Reader, Reader Insert, Orc Boyfriend, MLM Content Warnings: Missing Limb, PSTD, Flashbacks Words: 3415

Another commission for @severedreamerbeard​! A young man encounters a mysterious, secretive orc who lives on the outskirts of his village. During a sudden storm, the orc has a violent flashback to the day he lost his arm, and the reader helps him cope. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

There was a bit of a legend in your town about the woodcutter that lived outside the village borders. He’d lived there since before you moved to the village and he was an orc, that much you knew, but there was precious little else anyone could tell you that wasn’t speculation or rumors.

Some said he was a war criminal who’d committed heinous crimes and was cast out of his stronghold. Some said he was being hunted for desertion by his clan. Some said he was a smuggler who was using his work in the village as a front. A few folks wanted to run him out of town for fear that he’d bring the wrath of whatever he was escaping from down on townspeople’s heads, though he was so large that few people seemed to be willing to follow through. Besides, he didn’t technically live in town, so it wasn’t as if he was really bothering anyone.

All you knew was that he supplied the town with firewood, which he would drop off on every person’s doorsteps in the dead of night when most people were sleeping. He had a dislike for people or being seen, so he did most of his work when it was dark and he could be alone.

The most unusual thing about him was something you’d seen with your own eyes but no one had mentioned: he only had one arm.

You had gotten up one night when you were ill with food poisoning and gone out to get sick at the edge of the field near your house. During a brief respite, while you were gasping for air, you saw the figure of the orc step silently out of the woods on the footpath, the hand cart he pulled behind him as quiet as he was. You watched in the dim light of the moon as he stopped at your door, let go of the hand cart, picked up a bundle of wood wrapped in twine, dropped it on your doorstep, and continued on his way. All one handed.

His entire left arm was missing and the left sleeve of his tunic was sewn shut unevenly. His ill-fitting clothes were plain and worn, likely the cheapest he could buy if he hadn’t scavenged them from somewhere. It hurt your pride a little as a tailor to see him wearing such rags. He wasn’t wearing a coat either, despite the chill of the autumn night, and his boots looked pretty beat up.

He was as big as everyone said he was, though he looked thinner than you expected, almost lanky. His hair was cut short, rough and jagged, looking as though he’d done it himself somehow, but you couldn’t determine its color in this light.  

You’d almost forgotten that you were sick for a few minutes as you watched from the shadows as he made his way down the block and dropped off the wood at each door. Did he get paid for this service? You’d never paid him before, and most people in town were terrified of him, so you didn’t think they went out of their way to make sure he got his due for the work. Did he do it for free? Why?

After a moment of watching and pondering, your body abruptly remembered that it had eaten some bad eggs and you hurled what was left in your stomach into the brush. You tried to be quiet about it, but it’s hard to make a distressed belly obey or mask the wet splashing of sick in the dewy grass. The force and pressure of heaving actually caused you to black out.

When you awoke, you were inside your home, lying on your bed, and you saw someone moving around in the dark.

“Who’s there?” You croaked roughly, your throat raw from vomiting.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” A deep male voice responded. A cup of water was pressed into your hand. “Drink this. I saw you pass out. Sick as you are, you’d likely have caught a killing fever if I left you there.”

You took a sip dutifully. A match was struck and a candle lit near the door, illuminating the face of the thin orc woodcutter.

“Oh, it’s you,” You said.

“Yeah. It’s me,” He replied flatly. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” He raked up the coals in the fireplace of your room and threw in a few logs, bringing the fire back to life. In this light, you could see his hair was a soft brown color, and his eyes matched. His skin wasn’t green, like most orcs you’d seen, but an dark red ochre color. You tried hard not to stare at his missing arm.

“Thank you,” you rasped, taking another cautious sip of water. “What’s your name?”

“Arkag,” He said. “Not that it matters. We likely won’t speak again.”

“Why not?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said. “I need to go soon. I have to finish the deliveries before sun up.”

“Why?”

“I make people nervous,” He said simply. “It’s best if no one sees me.”

“I see…” You said sadly. He sounded detached and resigned. You felt terrible for him and had to wonder what led him to living such a solitary life. You were almost certain it had to do with his arm, but you couldn’t dig up the courage to ask him about it. “Well, let me repay you for your kindness.”

“No need,” He said.

“Really, I insist. I’m a tanner and a tailor. I could make you a coat! You need one; it’s going to get colder soo--”

“No!” Arkag shouted. “I don’t need your charity and I’m not looking to make friends. Don’t make me regret helping you.” He stalked out of your room and to the front door and left without another word.

You grimaced and grumbled. You didn’t care what he’d said. This wasn’t about charity; it was entirely possible that he saved your life. A coat was the least you could do to repay him.

Once you’d recovered from your illness, you hired a hunter to bring you back as big a pelt as they could find. You knew you’d need a big animal to clothe Arkag and you wanted it to be all one piece. Nothing you had currently in your stock was adequate.

It took you more than two months to tan the leather, and then another two weeks to waterproof it. Sewing the coat took less a few days. By the time the coat was finished, it was well into winter and the snowfall was getting heavy. You wished you’d had the chance to start this project this sooner. Either way, it was done, and you went out during the day to find Arkag’s house.

You followed the beaten footpath deep into the forest and eventually found a small cottage in a circular clearing. The cottage seemed to be a single well-built room made of grey stone thatched with dry reeds and clay. It had a small garden in the front, though it was mostly empty currently, save for a few winter vegetables. You didn’t see him anywhere, and there was no smoke in the chimney, so you assumed he was out working. You left the coat, folded and wrapped in waxed parchment, on the stoop of his front door and left.

That night in the early hours, you were awoken by a loud banging on your door.

“Open up!” You heard Arkag growl.

Aggravated, you wrapped your blanket around you and went and flung the front door open.

“And what time do you call this?” You snapped.

Arkag had the coat clutched in his fist and threw it at you. “I told you I didn’t want your charity!”

“It’s not charity!” You yelled back. “I wanted to make it! I’m just repaying you for helping me!”

“I don’t want anything from you! I don’t want anything from anyone! Leave me alone!” He spun and stomped off.

You huffed and slammed your door. Months of careful work gone to waste because of one stubborn ass. The coat had been made for Arkag and it wouldn’t fit anyone else. You sighed forcefully and put the coat back on the body form.

The next day you went out to hunt. You could catch small game just fine; anything bigger than a deer, though, and you usually either went with a party or hired a more experienced hunter. You were low on meat and thought a small boar would last you a good month or so, if you dried and salted it properly. Plus, you wanted to make yourself some new soft boots for spring.

As you shrugged on your quiver, Arkag’s coat caught your eye. On impulse, you snatched it from the body form and folded it, stowing it in your satchel. You weren’t sure why you did, but maybe you could talk some sense into that block-headed orc.

A few hours tracking had produced nothing, and you were wondering if you shouldn’t just settled for a few rabbits when you felt the air electrify and the small hairs on your neck stand on end. Looking up, you saw that the clouds were darkening and decided to give up the hunt for today. A storm was coming.

You heard thunder in the distance and you hastened your steps. Thunder and lightning during snow storms was unusual, especially in the middle of winter. You had a feeling this one would be bad.

Just as you were coming to the place where the trees opened up a bit, you heard the crack of lightning hitting a tree, startling you. What startled you even more was the blood-curdling scream that followed. You broke into a run and followed the sound with your heart in your throat.

The snow was falling as you stumbled into the clearing that housed Arkag’s cottage. Arkag was on his knees next to his chopping block, an axe lying nearby, wailing as though he were in pain, though you couldn’t immediately see any wound. There was a smoldering tree nearby that must have been struck by the bolt.

“Arkag!” You shouted, running to him. “Arkag! Are you alright?”

“My arm!” He cried. “My arm!”

You looked at his right arm and inspected it frantically for injuries. “It’s alright! You’re arm’s fine! Arkag, you’re fine!”

“My arm! Oh gods, my arm!”

“Arkag, you’re arm isn’t hurt! You’re--” You realized then that his right hand was grasping for his missing left arm. Arkag was shaking violently and sobbing, his eyes wide and unseeing. You wanted to help him, but you weren’t sure what you could do. You were leery of touching him, concerned you would make it worse or that he’d lash out.

The only thing you could think of was the coat. He was only wearing his beat up boots, ill-fitting trousers, and the messily sewn tunic. Perhaps orcs had a higher cold tolerance than humans, but he still had to be feeling this weather. Shaking your head, you took out the coat and lay it over his shoulders carefully, trying not to jostle or alarm him.

The thunder continued to roll and the snow continued to fall as you knelt next to Arkag, keeping watch over him until this… flashback, you guessed, passed. Slowly, ever so slowly, Arkag seemed to come back to himself as the snow collected on both of you. This close, you could see that one of his tusks was cracked down the middle and rather grey in color compared to its twin, which was the normal yellow-white.

“Arkag,” You said softly. “We need to get inside before we freeze. The snow is going to get worse and it’ll be dark soon.”

Arkag blinked rapidly and wiped his face. He’d stopped crying but was still shivering. “Go ahead,” Arkag said in a low, brusque tone. “You can make fun of me now.”

Your head rocked back. “Why on earth would I make fun of you?”

He scoffed. “Forget it,” Arkag growled, attempting to stand but stumbling.

You rushed to catch him. “Here, let me--”

Arkag pushed you away, and you fell backward on your butt.

“What was that for?” You asked indignantly.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Arkag said, falling back to a knee. “Leave me alone.”

“Would you stop being stubborn?” You said, shoving yourself to a standing position and taking his arm. “Do you want to freeze?”

“I don’t care!” He shouted at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being dramatic and let me help you, you idiot!”

He attempted to shake you, but the episode had left him weakened. After a moment of trying to fend you off, you eventually got him to his feet and steered him toward his cottage.

Inside was simple and undecorated. There was a fire pit in the center of the single room that was lit, over which was a spit and a grate where a kettle or pan could be placed. There was no bed; instead there was a padded mat covered in furs that he likely slept on. There was a cabinet with jars of food, shelves with random knick-knacks, and a table with a single chair.

Strangely, though there wasn’t much actually in the cottage, it was very cluttered. There were various bones from previous meals thrown into a corner. There was an open trunk with clothes spilling out of it, both washed and unwashed. There were dirty dishes in a basin. The floor was unswept and straw-strewn. You got the feeling that he wasn’t necessarily a slob, he just didn’t care to pick up after himself.

You led him to the chair and he fell heavily into it.

“Where’s your kettle?” You asked.

He pointed at the basin and you went over, finding the kettle underneath a wash cloth. It was rusted and beat up, but it seemed mostly clean. You filled it with water from a barrel near the table and set the kettle on the grate over the fire. You found a clean mug and a canister with tea leaves.

“I don’t want tea,” He said churlishly. “I want ale. Or whiskey.”

“You need tea,” You replied firmly. “We need to raise your body temperature. It’s your own fault for gallivanting around without a coat.”

“Alcohol warms me better,” He grumbled.

“That’s actually a myth,” You told him as you warmed your hands by the fire, waiting for the water to boil. “Alcohol doesn’t make you warmer, it just makes you feel like you are. You’re more likely to freeze to death because you feel like you’ve warmed up when you really haven’t.”

“Still want it,” Arkag said sourly.

“Drink the tea first, then we’ll see,” You said sternly. You stole furtive glances at him as you bustled around his small cottage, getting tea ready. At first, he simply sat there, staring at nothing, though over time, he looked down at the coat, touching it tentatively.

“You really made this?” He asked.

“Sure did,” You replied. “Took me two months to tan that moose skin.”

“Huh,” He hummed. “I used to be able to do things like this. Well, not this; I couldn’t sew even when I had both arms. But I did a bit of skinning and tanning back in my day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked neutrally.

“Not particularly,” He said.

You sifted some tea leaves into his mug and poured the water in, letting it steep for a moment before pushing the mug over to him and leaning against the wall.

“What about today? What happened today?”

Arkag stared at the mug distantly, wrapping his large hand around it to warm his fingers.

“The sound,” He whispered. “The sound of the tree cracking and snapping. It brought me right back to the day… this…” He waved vaguely at the missing arm. “The day this happened. My body locked up and I couldn’t move. I barely remember most of it. I heard your voice… but from far away. And I couldn’t see you. Why were you even here? The coat?”

“No, I heard you screaming.”

He looked up at you. “Was I screaming?”

You frowned in concern. “Does this happen often?”

“Not anymore,” He replied. “It did when I was younger. It’s why I left in the first place. I was mocked relentlessly by the clan. They didn’t understand that I couldn’t control it.” He took a large gulp of his tea and grimaced at the bitterness of it. “I’ve been alright for awhile now, but… the lightning… when it hit the tree… the sound it made… it just… caught me off guard, I guess.”

“I understand,” You said. “It scared you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You don’t know much about orcs, then.”

You laughed, too. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve hunted with a few, and I’ve had a couple in my shop, but I’ve never had an actual conversation with one.”

“Not surprising,” Arkag said. “Orcs keep to themselves. We’re a rowdy bunch, but only in places we feel comfortable, and that’s usually around other orcs. Outside of strongholds, we tend to be tight lipped and reserved. They teach us to be cautious around outsiders.”

“Aren’t you an outsider now?”

He shrugged. “Technically. If I wanted to, I could go back. But I don’t want to. I’m comfortable being alone.”

“Are you?” You asked, folding your arms.

He looked up and squinted at you, but didn’t answer.

A strange, heavy silence fell, and you looked out of the window that was next to your head. The thunder and lightning had ceased, but the storm was still in full swing. The snow was falling heavily and the wind was picking up. It was also getting dark.

“Well,” You said with a sigh. “If you’re alright, I should get going. If I don’t go now, I won’t get home before nightfall, and I don’t want to get stuck in this weather after dark.”

Arkag cleared his throat, but when you looked at him, he didn’t say anything.

“Yes?”

“Well…” He said slowly. “It’s… late. I suppose it’s safer for you to stay here until morning, at least. I don’t have much to offer, though.” He waved vaguely around the cottage.

“Oh,” You said in surprise. “Thanks. I don’t need much, just a space on the floor to sleep. As long as we keep the fire up, I’ll be plenty comfortable.” You eyed him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” He said, not meeting your eye. “You… you did help me. And you made me this nice coat.” He brushed a hand over the leather. “This is moose, you said? Awfully soft for moose.”

“I have a special ingredient for tougher leathers,” You told him. “Softens it but the material stays strong and lasts years. Take care of that coat and it’ll last a good decade and a half, at least.”

He seemed impressed. “Not bad.” He looked up at you, then away. “Thanks. For the coat. And… for not being an ass about… you know… earlier.”

“Are you really going to accept the coat?” You asked.

He sneered at you. “You want it back?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You said. “I meant…” You shrugged lamely, shaking your head.“‘You’re welcome’.”

“Good,” He said, and you swore you almost saw a smile.

He offered you some dried meat and a jar of preserves for dinner, and the both of you turned in. You laid out your coat and rested your head on your satchel on the other end of the cottage while Arkag settled on his mat, using his new coat as a blanket.

You were comfortable but restless, thinking back on Arkag’s wild, terrified eyes and the anguished screaming. What could have caused such fear in him? What had he gone through that made him leave his clan and family behind? How long ago had it been? How long had he been dealing with it alone?

You watched him toss and turn in his sleep, mumbling and groaning. You wondered what dreams were visiting him, if he was reliving his personal nightmare right now. If they haunted him every night. If there was anything that gave him comfort. Looking around his cottage, you didn’t see anything particularly comforting.

With your thoughts in a roil, you turned over and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[pochapal]

rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking: 

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3. 

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it. 

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with. 

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

[mynameiscarat]

There for him

y/n is basically from @phenomenally-thrombey​’s headcanon 

Being Jacob’s older sister and being in College Included (Link:   https://phenomenally-thrombey.tumblr.com/post/610906383161884672/being-jacobs-older-sister-and-being-in-college)

Probably that’s the thing people call “tooth-rotting fluff”.

My English is broken, so dm me if you see any mistakes.

Sun was slowly setting, colouring pale winter sky rosy. Day ended, although clock just struck 7 pm. It was a beginning of December, time was closing to Christmas. You wanted to talk about getting a tree and decorations - you loved Christmas so much - but now, looking in faces of your mother, father and brother you understood it’s probably not the best time to do it. You all were having dinner... sort of. Donna and Walt were chatting crossly, eating their food without much interest. And Jacob was just staring into his plate, clearly disgusted. „Jacob, - you whispered, - eat, please. You didn't have anything at lunch.” He said nothing, as if he didn’t hear you. But the one who certainly heard you - your mum - looked at him and ordered: „Listen to your sister, young man. Stop making that face!” Jacob glanced at your parents and looked in his plate with even more disgust. „It's a junk. I won't eat it. - he snorted. - I want roastbeef. Roastbeef and yorkshire pudding with jam.” A terrible silence reigned in a kitchen.  „Son, - said Walt, barely hiding his irritation, - you know that we can not afford those dishes anymore. Be happy with that you have now. We’re broke. I'm currently trying to start my own publishing house, your mother is a civil servant. At small position.” „So what? Because of that I have to starve? Isn't it your duty to care about me? I’m so freaking done with it!” Walt let out a bitter chuckle: „Probably if you'd been a bit better grandson, we wouldn't have become nobodies. Have you even thought about taking responsibility?” „And have you, father? You were messing with grandpa, and eventually he fed up. Good job! I'm sure your goddamn publishing house will bankrupt in two month.” Walt became deadly pale, his hand slowly rising: „You little son of a-” „Dad, no! - you yelled, terribly scared. - Don't hit Jay!” Walt looked at you: „Y/n, I-” „Please, dad, no!! Don't do it!” - you were practically begging. Jacob was silent, staring at his lap. Another second passed. „Go to your room. Jacob Archibald Thrombey. - said Walt eventually through clenched teeth. - You won't have dinner today.” And your brother stormed from a kitchen, face pale from rage. Then you heared how door in his room slammed. You were still listening, when Walt said: „Eat, dove. You are such a good girl. We are proud of you, y/n” „Jacob has so much ambitions, but I don't think there's anything behind them. - Donna added. - Jacob wants to be rich, powerful and respected. But I don't think he is able to make his way to this position. But you! - oh, you will get respect. You're still planing to be an architect, right?” You smiled weakly, but your thought were with your brother.

Once youve finished fried eggs and sausages, you swiftly went out from the kitchen and approached Jacob”s room. Door was locked. You knocked gently: „Jay, may I-” „Fuck off, bitch!” - yelled he. No, not now. You sighed and made your way to your small room. It was a really small room. You managed to place there your bed and writing table only. Even your clothes had to be kept in parents room, which was slightly bigger. Jacob, actually, tried to occupy it but failed.  All your apartment, with kitchen, bathroom and three rooms could fit into one room in Thrombey's house... Martha's house. You didn”t want to be cross at her, you really didn't. You understood that she was there for Harlan when no one else was. That she was honest, kind and absolute goody-two-shooes. That she, eventually, deserved the house. But now memories about this wonderful house returned... Christmas memories.  In the hall a huge Christmas tree stands, bright lights everywhere. More and more presents are arriving. Wonderfull smell of turkey and  potatoes, stuffed in the oven, fills the house. And you and Jacob sits before TV, rewatching «How Grinch stole christmas» and eating candy.  „You're a real-life Grinch!” - say you, and Jacob smiles with this wide and evil smile... You sighed again and stared out. Snowfall begun.

You didn’t even understand what happened. Glowing watches on a shelf showed half passed one. The room were dark, parents were snorting in their room, you could hear it very clearly.  But there was something else. Through cracking of a floor, parent's snorts and howling of the wind you heard another sound that really woke you. There was something like whimpering... very light, barely audible - but heartwreching even in slumber. That's why you woke up.  You jumped off your bed and run into Jacob”s room. He was tossing and turning in his bed, moaning, like he was in pain. You shook him: „Jacob, wake up! Please, dear, wake up, it's just a dream” And he opened his eyes, pure terror in them.  „I couldn't find the exit... - he croaked. - There were no exit, like only room and a hallway, but I couldn't go out, I-” „It's just a nightmare, - you whispered, helping him to sit. - You fell asleep hungry and had a nightmare. But now it's okay, I'm here. Do you want me to find you something to eat?” You didn't get a proper responce, but still went to the kitchen. You spred four pieces of bread with butter and honey and made two cups of milky tea.  You returned to Jacob's room with tray, proud of not waking your parents up. You found your brother in the same position, hugging his knees and staring blankly into the void.  „Here, - you said, - I've brought food. Don't you think it's cool to have a night snack from time to time?” Jacob said nothing. He ate his bread and butter, and then yours, but didn't touch his tea. „Come on, - you gently urged him, - your tea will get cold” He obediently took a cup and drank it in one gulp. You stared at him. You didn't like when he was sarcastic, or bitter, or rude to you, good god, you didn't - but this doll-like state of his was even worse. „Jacob, please, tell me, what are you thinking about? - you said, taking his hand. He firstly tried to pull his hand out, but this time your grip was strong.” And then he said: „How on earth we're going to live?” You blinked: „What?” „Am I speaking Russian, y/n? I said, how we're going to live? Don't you see where it's going? Dad is a crappy businessman, and mom will never earn enough for four peope! We don't starve now? But we will! I hate this old bastard so much, I hope he suffered before he died, how could he, how could-” „Jacob” - you started seriously, but then you noticed how a tear rolled down your brother's cheek. Your swallowed. You wanted to comfort him so much, to hold him close to you.  But you knew you have to act slowly and at ease to succeed - or he will kick you out. „Jacob, - now your tone was low and steady, - please, listen to me. It's only your fear. Your perception is a bit curved. We were upper-class, we lived in luxury. And now we will just become the middle-class. It doesn't mean starvation. I'm absolutely sure dad will establish his publishing house, because he's smart and knows so much about publishing business - and because he loves us. He doesn't want us, his family, to be poor. There are, actually, some virtues in our position. We don't have grandpa's money, right, but on the other hand we're independent now. We don't have to act nicely with anyone if we don't want to” While you were talking, you slowly moved closer, put your hands on Jacob's shoulders and then - on his back. And after that you hugged him tightly, unable to restrain a sigh.  You didn't expect much, but then this happened. Jacob, your nasty, supposedly heartless brother hugged you back and put his head on your shoulder. Such thing happened only once, five years ago, when you fell ill with a serious flu.  You could barely breath. You forgot when you were so happy last time. „Jacob, Jacob, - you whispered, rocking him gently, - do you want me to stay with you this night?” He nodded. You turned out the lamp and got into bed. There was a moment when you got scared he won't let you hug him again, but he snuggled to you eagerly. „Rest, honey. - you kissed his forehead. - We will be fine. Believe me. We will be fine, we will be happy. I can even built another home one day, just for us. I can do it. I will be an architect, remember?” Soon his breathing became slow. He fell asleep. And you stayed awake for a bit longer, stroking his hair and back. Jacob was a difficult person, but you knew how to handle him. You loved your brother more than anything.