#or where lightbulb got her keyboard from

[ccnidar1a]

something something guitar piano duo

[leyavo]

⛓️‍💥| Out on your own |

Part Task Force 141 x Tech!reader

Summary: After Graves relieves Ghost and Soap from their shared mission, Jinx is left to fend for herself in the Fuerzas Especiales facility against the shadows. (Loosely based on the mw2 video game, alone/ghost team mission)

Featuring: Graves, Soap, Ghost and Jinx (tech!reader). Graves and Jinx have history.

[Masterlist] < more tech!reader there

The glowing flickers of monitor screens, lit the dingy room. A desk pushed against the wall, surveillance and the whirring of computers filling the silence.

No natural light entering the small room. Jinx felt like she’d be digging her own grave, the one person she’d tried to dodge now stared down at her.

“Look at you, got yourself a name and everything,” Graves said, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant on the edge of the desk. His finger resting close to the trigger of his gun. “How’s that bad luck treating you Jinx?”

Luck, had never been on Jinx’s side since she was a kid. In the back of her mind, she knew that no one would come and save her, not if they knew the truth. Not if they knew where she’d come from or what she’d done.

The cuffs around Jinx’s wrists bit into her flesh, both secured to the arm rest. Her ankles tied to the chair legs, thankfully the bag over her head had been removed.

A hand twisted in her hair and forced her to look up at Graves, scalp tingling and neck aching.

Graves flicked out his dagger, blade tracing the column of Jinx’s throat and the line of a scar curving from her right ear and down to the collar of her T-shirt.

“Didn’t think I’d recognise you? Huh,” he said, adding pressure against her throat. “I’ve always been watching you, in the shadows. Someone with your set of skills would be valuable to this organisation.”

Valuable, Jinx knew that information lead to currency and safety. The more she learnt, the more they kept her around and valued her. Warmth trickled down her neck, another inch added to the old scar.

“Maybe this is your lucky day, Jinx. What do you say?” Graves leant forward, lifting the blade away.

Jinx spat, a thick blob of her saliva rolling down Graves’s jaw. The back of his hand connected with her cheek, her vision tilting as she and the chair fell to the side. Her shoulder smashing into the concrete floor, a puddle of water soaking her shirt.

“Now that wasn’t very nice was it,” he said, nodding for the man behind her to set her back up. He stepped back, ducking under the swinging lightbulb above them.

The coppery tang of blood swam on top of her teeth, heat of her cheek tender and swollen beneath her eye. “Fuck you,” she spat, red splattering Graves face.

Graves blinked, his palm smearing the blood on his face. “Imagine what the 141 will say when they realise what scum they’ve let into their task force.” The gun he’d discarded on the desk back in his grasp, the back of it slamming into Jinx’s stomach.

Jinx swore, head hanging as she tried to catch her breath. Her trembling breathes shuddering through her whole body.

“Laswell’s gone soft.”

Laswell the first person that offered Jinx a lifeline. An opportunity to make her own luck, instead of being forced to do other people’s bidding. There was no way she’d betray her team, even if they weren’t coming for her. She’d do this for Laswell. No way she’d give Graves what he wanted.

“Now,” Graves said, dragging her chair across the room. “Find me that missile.”

The door opened to the right, but before Jinx could search what laid beyond it, a harsh slap sent her head back down. Two more soldiers appeared either side of her, fingers circling her biceps as the one behind her cut the ties from her ankles. The cuff on her right wrist removed and shoved in one of the pockets of on of their vest.

“Find it yourself,” Jinx snarled, trying to escape their hold. Her cheek smashed into the keyboard, her left wrist cuffed to the locked drawer under the desk.

The shadows retreated, filing out the door one by one.

Graves sat on the desk beside her, grasping her chin, nails sinking into her cheek. “I’m sure 157 would love to pick up that investigation on you again,” he said, shoving her back into the chair and pushing it closer to the desk.

She tried not to react, the flutter of her jaw giving her away. Graves smiled, his hand forcing hers to move the mouse and click on a file.

“Find me that missile and you won’t have to worry about the task force 141 or 157. Make your own luck today Jinx. Would be such a shame to waste such potential.” He tapped the clock on the wall as he stood, the click of numbers counting down.

Jinx stared at the timer, waiting for the door to shut behind Graves. Her gaze darting to the monitor in front of her and the database of information at her fingertips.

One camera in the left corner behind her, the only scrap of security watching her. The webcam above the screen showed a green light, one way they could frame her for searching for the missiles. Either way she wasn’t coming out of this alive. If it wasn’t the shadows it was the two task forces. That or the bloody government, the military and that meant a price on her head.

No, Jinx would have to be smart. Fifty six minutes to gather all the information she could. She’d find that missile and somehow contact Laswell, the last resort being selling it to the highest bidder in order to survive. Maybe even go back to where she came from, that’s all she knew.

Clicking on the secure database, she scrolled through the numbered files. Hundreds and hundreds of data, quick flicks of text she read and then closed for the next one. Her eyes sore, head throbbing as she tried to memorise the key pieces of intel. Tried to trace the maps and the organisations profiled within the facility.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Jinx mumbled to herself, leaning forward to double check what she’d just read. She automatically closed the file and hid it within another, no doubt they would have it backed up so there was no use deleting it.

She stood from the desk, her gaze trailing the lead from the monitor to the computer tower underneath. Crawling to back she dragged it out, ripping the leads out of it and stamping on the tower.

An explosion shook the foundations, the echoes of guns firing in the distance. It was now or never. Jinx ripped the bent metal from the side of the computer tower and flinched as her finger cut on a scrap piece of metal. She pried it off just as the door flung open and a shadow lunged at her.

She tried to run, but her cuffed wrist yanked her back. The shadow’s hands wrapping around her throat, pressing into her wind pipe. Her left arm useless crushed behind her back, the man’s body pinning to the edge of the desk.

Jinx plunged the metal in the man’s neck swiping it across his throat. Blood spraying on her face, his hands flung to cover the wound as he dropped to the ground bringing her down with him. She scrambled away, watching him choke on his own blood as she caught her own breath.

The timer beeped, the repetition beep drawing Jinx back to the present. To the body lying on the floor, she got to her feet trying to kick the door shut. A sliver of light still entering the room.

She spun around tugging the cuff attached to locked drawer. The jagged piece of metal she’d used as a weapon unreachable. A cry tore from her lips, the bite of the cuff sinking further into her wrist as she tried to pull the drawer out.

“Jinx.”

The sound of his muffled voice sent a shiver up her spine. She glanced over her shoulder, brows furrowed as she stared at the two soldiers wearing skeleton masks.

Soap walked closer, jinx taking a step back. Her gaze flitted to his eyes and then to his gun.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” she blurted out. Her heart hammered against her chest as Ghost toed the wrecked computer tower, his fist silencing the timers alarm.

“You know something,” Soap said, glancing to Ghost. He yanked the small axe from his pack and swung it at the chain connecting Jinx’s cuff.

Jinx nodded, pushing the cuff down so she could run her wrist. “What if I do?”

The radio crackled, Captain Price asking for a status. Soap replied, taking up his place outside the room with the rest of the team who were approaching the next area. Ghost hanging back with her.

“Where’s the missile Jinx? Everyone knows that’s why Graves wanted you here,” Ghost said, he cocked his head to the side and looked her up and down.

Time, never seemed to be on her side either. The firing of guns in the distance reminding her to hurry up. Overthink and you’re gone. Bang.

“Chicago.” She didn’t want to use her one and only way out, but there was no way she’d escape the likes of Ghost. Soap maybe yes, but not him.

“Good girl, you’ve been promoted,” Ghost said, pulling a mask out of his pocket and chucking it to Jinx. “Welcome to Ghost team.”

She caught it, slinging it over her shoulder as pushed her hair back.

Ghost patted the shadow down, pulling a pistol and ammo out of the straps of his vest. “Stick with me, Jinx,” he said, passing her the guard’s discarded gun into her hands.

Jinx hesitated, the cool metal meeting her fingertips. She raised the gun, pointing it at Ghost. “I gave you intel, you let me go.” She didn’t expect him to give her a weapon, the weight of holding it up trembling through her arms.

He didn’t even blink as he stared at her, as if he’d stared at death regularly. He closed the distance, lifting his arm and forcing the gun back to her side.

“Laswell told me where you’re from. We’re not the 157. You be good to me, I’ll be good to you,” he said, plucking the mask off her shoulder and pulling it over her head.

“I’ll be good,” she said, adjusting the mask to sit comfortably over the bridge of her nose.

His thumbs smeared over the black paint under his eyes and he held Jinx’s head, staining the skin around her eyes that were not covered by the skeleton mask.

“Come on Lucky.”

[kathyprior4200]

Walk All Over You (Rolanda X Reader) (NSFW)

Warning for sex, blood and murder.

A pale full moon dimly glows behind a blanket of dark gray clouds. A chill wind is in the air, softly creaking the dead tree branches arching toward the sky. Thunder rumbles over the vast rows of tombstones below. There are no signs of life or civilization as far as the eye can see.

Except for you.

You were wandering all alone, shivering from the cold. You didn’t really know how you got to this place. On a dreary car ride back home, your vehicle had broken down in the middle of nowhere. There was no cell phone service and no nearby places to get help. You needed somewhere to spend the night other than your car.

Braving the cold, you step out and head forward. In the morning, you would begin the long trek to the nearest place with wi-fi.

Lightning flashes and crashes, illuminating an old building that appears in your line of sight. You freeze and look up.

It is an old hotel building, covered in cobwebs, the windows cracked. Glowing in orange on the roof in large letters reads “ONE STAR WONDER.” It looks like a cross between a motel and a haunted house.

What kinds of hobos, addicts, and shady people resided inside? You didn’t want to find out, but there was nowhere else to go in the dark. Taking shaky steps, you make your way to the double doors and pull them open.

Inside, the lobby looks just as tacky as the exterior. The floor is red and decorated with eye designs. The red wallpaper is worn in several spots and cobwebs hang in the corners. A couple dead plants sit on a round white table and there are a few worn red circular rugs. Two worn out orange couches sit nearby under hanging circular white lights spread out in every direction. The red ceiling is also cracked in several areas. Several lightbulbs are broken overhead.

At the front desk to the far left is a small green lamp, a service bell, and a large old box-shaped computer. A dark blue door with a skull on it reads “staff only.”

You see a figure sitting at the front desk, the hotel manager. You read the nametag: Rolanda.

The woman smiles as you approach the desk and says the hotel greeting.

“Welcome to the One Star Wonder, where it’s a wonder we still have that star!”

She cocks her head to the side. “How may I help you today?”

Rolanda sits with her hands folded together. She wears her well-pressed hotel uniform: a red vest with black buttons on the front and a gray long-sleeved undershirt. A matching gray skirt is underneath and further down are black leggings over her legs and black high-heeled shoes on her feet.

You notice her skin is ghostly white and her eyes are obscured by square-shaped gold and brown sunglasses. Around her slightly wrinkled forehead is her long dirty-blonde hair, mostly pulled back and ending in two thin ponytails sticking out on either side. A black toothpick sticks out of her mouth.

“Hello, Miss,” you say. “I was wondering if I could briefly spend the night here? I had a little trouble along the way.”

“Car trouble?” she asks.

You nod. “H-how did you…”

She shrugs. “Lucky guess. And of course you can stay. Cash or credit?”

You pull out your credit card.

“$25.66, please,” she says.

You hand her your card and she types on the keyboard of the old computer.

“Name, please?”

You tell her your name.

She hands you back your card. “Alright, looks like I found a nice room for you.” She opens a drawer to her left and hands you a gray key on a loop. “Head down the hall, three doors to your left.”

“Thanks,” you reply.

The lights flicker overhead for a few seconds, and you briefly look up.

“Oh, don’t worry about the lights,” she says. “They’ve been doing that for years.”

“Is this place haunted?” You can’t help but wonder.

Rolanda leans in slightly. “There have been some…disturbances, the kind that may have killed some of my guests in the past.” She pauses. “But…I’m sure you’ll be safe.”

A babbling sound comes from behind the desk. Rolanda glances down at a hunchbacked bellhopper in a red uniform, with straggly long white hair, gnarled fingers, and unblinking eyes. She drools with her hands out.

“B-b-bitch! Bitch!” she babbles.

“Oh, sorry. That’s Toleda the Igor,” Rolanda mentions, looking back up. “She’s worked for me ever since my last janitor guy disappeared. If you ever need help with your luggage, she’s there.”

You were at a loss for words.

Rolanda glances over at a nearby small vase on the desk. “Oh, I almost forgot…”

She reaches over and lifts up one red rose on a black stem. She hands you the rose. “Here’s a small token of welcome…for a sweet-looking fellow like you.”

You blush and take the rose. “T-thank you, Rolanda.”

“My pleasure,” she says, smile widening. “I hope you enjoy your brief stay.”

You walk down the dim hallway, searching for your room. More broken bulbs flicker overhead, and you hear drips of water coming from a nearby exposed pipe from the ceiling. You pass a large portrait of a smiling Rolanda in her uniform, holding a rose. You have a feeling that her eyes were following you as you continued on, but you brush it off.

 Finally, you find your room. You put the key in the slot, turning it. The door unlocks with a click. You step inside and turn on the light. You spot an old single bed with orange, yellow, and blue flowers on the bedsheets. An old-fashioned TV sits in one corner and a potted plant in another. A small bathroom is off to the left. Dust settles on the carpet below your feet. You put the rose on a bedside table and sit on your bed with a sigh. Worries and exhaustion fill your mind…how were you going to get back home?

“Need anything, sweetheart?”

A yelp escapes your throat as you lift up your head. Rolanda beams at you, arms folded behind her back.

“What the…how did…” you stutter in shock.

Rolanda shushes you as she steps closer. “You seemed pretty stressed when you came in. Just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you stutter. “Just knock next time, please.”

“I know we just met, but perhaps a dinner date with me would cheer you up?” she asks with a wink.

“Rolanda, it’s the middle of the night!” you exclaim. “I need some sleep!”

“Who said we had to go out to eat?” she inquires. “We can have some nibbles right here, right now.”

You blush and your eyes roll. “Ooh,” you groan. “Is this some kind of freaky sexual roleplay? Now’s not the time!”

Rolanda breathes on your neck. “On the contrary, I think it’s the perfect time. It’s clear you’re in some distress, and as your honorable hostess…”

She cups your cheek with her hand, “…I’d be happy to help you.”

“W-we don’t even have food!”

“We don’t need any,” she purrs, licking her lips.

“Again with the roleplay…” you begin. Your words are cut off when the lights flicker in your room. The room goes dark and cold. Rubbing your eyes, you see a sight that turns your blood cold: a black shadow with glowing yellow eyes and a grinning yellow mouth. The lights snap back on, revealing Rolanda again.

Realization hits you. ‘You…you’re the one…’ you think.

You lift yourself from the bed and head toward the door. Your hand almost reaches the handle when you feel yourself falling forward onto the floor. You cry out and try to stand, but a mysterious force grabs your ankles and lifts you up slightly off the floor. You feel your body being turned around before you’re gently lowered onto the floor on your back.

Something wet pools underneath you, spreading under your back and spilling rapidly toward your arms and legs. You struggle to lift your body, but the strange black goo sticks you in place.

Rolanda’s hand covers your mouth just as you are about to scream. “Hey, none of that. I don’t want you waking up the other guests.”

“Bitch! Let me go!” you protest.

Rolanda clicks her tongue. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You know my secret now, so in order for me not to get in trouble…you’ll have to die.”

You struggle some more.

“Aw, it’s not so bad,” she coos, swaying her hips a bit. “Who wouldn’t want a beautiful lady to willingly enter their bedroom?”

She leans down and kisses you on the cheek.

‘I don’t understand…why…why did you kill innocent people?’ you wonder.

“Oh, it’s simple,” Rolanda answers. “If anyone suspects the existence of demons, someone has to send their souls to Hell so the humans can keep being clueless. Don’t take it personally, I’m just following King Leviathan’s orders.”

She then lets out a girlish giggle. “Though I do sometimes like to see if random humans would make great snacks.” She sighs. “I guess I really should be better at cleaning up after tearing them apart…”

‘W-what are you?! Where did you even come from?!’

Rolanda smirks. “Glad you asked. Since I’ll be the last person you see, I think I’ll let you see…some more of me.”

She slowly unbuttons her red vest and takes it off. She then lifts her undershirt over her head, only showing her slender pale chest and her bra.

She slowly moves her fingers behind her and unlatches her bra, which falls to the floor. You stare at her round white breasts, which she moves in sensual circles with her hands.

You try and glance away.

“Hey, keep looking,” she orders. “I know that look in your eyes. You’re more than welcome to feel them.”

You glance in confusion at your hands, which are still stuck to the floor.

You look back at Rolanda and find your face squished right between her boobs.

Your face turns red and sweat beads your forehead. You let out small grunts as her smooth skin caresses around your face, mouth and cheeks. You can’t help but give some small licks to taste her sweetness.

Rolanda’s breasts turn hard, and she snickers. “Flustered already, little morsel? You sure are fun to play with.”

All too soon, she pulls back from your face. She grins and begins to take off her shoes. She takes off her leggings and her skirt…painfully slow, until finally, her underwear falls off, too.

“R-Rolanda…” you stutter. “If you’re gonna kill me, I-I don’t…”

“Hush,” she whispers. “Let’s not ruin our fun…my fun, rather.”

She sways again and slowly lowers herself onto your chest. Her groin rests between your legs.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask. “Aren’t I supposed to have my clothes…?”

Rolanda ignores you and begins grinding her clit between your legs.

“Rolanda, stop!”

Rolanda chuckles and bucks her hips faster.

Under any other circumstances, this would be a wet dream come true. But in this case, you struggled and squirmed in vain. You were being violated by this strange predator and worse, you couldn’t stop the tingling hot pleasure sensation arising in your groin. You were completely at her mercy, and she knew it.

“Look how pathetic and helpless you are,” she grins between her hot groans. I know you’re enjoying this deep down. Just let it all…” she pauses. “… ‘cum’ out!”

Shortly after she says that, a long moan escapes your lips as wetness soaks your undergarments. Rolanda leans her head back in ecstasy as her cum splashes onto your pants. She pants and catches her breath, and you do the same, black spots dancing in your vision.

She stands up and folds her arms.

“Looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself too much.”  She leans forward and flashes a devious grin. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

The lights flicker overhead again. She leans down and trails her tongue up your neck, making you flinch.

“Get ready, human…because you’re now out of your depth!”

Her eyes start to glow yellow as she steps back into the dark. Lightning flashes and illuminates a monstrous face with an open black maw. The lights switch back on, and you can’t help but scream.

Rolanda poses in her demonic form. Her skin is gray and scaly, with several dark spots on her neck and off to the side of her forehead. Her long chin sticks out like an eels’, and her long yellow tongue roams just outside her rows of sharp teeth. Dangling from her head is a glowing esca, emitting a dot of hypnotic light. Her ears are fins, and her eyes glow an eerie yellow under sharp red sunglasses. Her hair is transparent white, trailing down into a long thin ponytail sticking out to the side. She clenches her four-clawed hands, while fish fins jut out from her back. Her body is now covered by a black undershirt and a purple vest. Her long black skirt reaches past her knees, the trim at the bottom in the shape of sharp teeth.

And on her feet…

…is the most bizarre pair of black high heels you’ve ever seen. They are shiny and black and along the surface between the top and the bottom are two curved ends that give the appearance of fish fins.

Click-clack, click-clack.

Her heels clack against the floor as she strolls toward you.

She sniffs the air. “That’s more like it. The intoxicating scent of fear and helplessness…you’ve got me famished!”

Ominously, she lowers her right foot until it lightly touches your stomach.

“I can’t wait to see how you break,” she whispers. She seductively rubs her shoe in circles on your belly.

“You’re a doormat,” she says with a scoff. “Such a little pansy that you’ll let yourself be trodden on.”

“No!” you yell.

“It’s the same with all you humans. You boast about your status and strength and sexual prowess. Or perhaps your beauty and nurturing capabilities. A vain attempt to hide all your insecurities gnawing inside.”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t what? Don’t know how weak you are? Don’t you how you try and cover away when death and disasters come knocking on your door? How you and your peers, family, and bosses are stuck in a losing game? Trying to repress all the hurt and shame until…”

She presses her shoe into your belly, and you wince.

“…it slowly breaks you piece by piece.”

She pauses and the silence fills you with dread.

Without warning, she lifts up her foot and stomps on your belly hard. You cry out at the sudden pain.

“You’re already whining like a baby,” she mocks. “I’m surprised you haven’t collapsed sooner.”

She walks forward, pressing her feet into your stomach, then gleefully doing the same to your chest. You choke and screech as a sickening crack resounds from below.

“Oh dear, I think I may have broken a rib,” she says. “You really are fragile in so many ways.”

She laughs and begins to dance on your body. Her long limbs and form twist and twirl unnaturally as she moves to your legs, hopping across them with one foot. The sharp ends dig into you, staining her heels with your red blood. She lifts up her leg and kicks the air. Her head cocks to the right and then to the lift, sickening cracking sounds coming from her neck. She jumps and plants both her feet into your face, rubbing and pressing for what feels like forever.

You muffle protests.

“You are krill under my boot,” Rolanda snaps. “You don’t talk.”

Your eyes blur with tears and Rolanda leans her head back and cackles into your ears.

“That’s it…keep crying, my dear! You should be honored that you’re about to become my delicious meal.”

She dips a clawed finger into your chest and licks your blood off of it. You were stunned you didn’t pass out.

She leaps off your face and twists in the air before landing back on her feet on the floor.

“I can sense every thought in that little head of yours,” she says, bending down to your hands. “You’re worthless…”

She takes your pinky finger and twists it hard. You scream and squirm, stuck in place.

“Irresponsible…”

She moves to your ring finger and grips hard.

“Incompetent…”

More sounds of your bones and joints breaking.

“Naïve…”

You cry out again before she reaches your thumb.

“And…” she drawls, “not me.”

Your thumb cracking was almost too much.

“Please make it stop!” you plead.

Rolanda moves to your other hand. “Satisfy me,” she commands. “Tell me I’m right.”

That was the last thing you wanted to do, but as you felt her claws curl around your other finger, you sob.

“Are you worthless?”

Her grip hardens. “Answer me.”

You nod weakly.

She grips tighter. “I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, ma’am…R-Rolanda.”

She smiles at your humiliation and moves to put your pinky back into place. She moves to your other hand, muttering, “this is too fun!”

“Are you irresponsible?”

“Y-yes, Rolanda…”

She stays still for a dreadful minute, then moves to fix your finger.

“Are you incompetent?”

“Yes, Rolanda.”

“Are you naïve?”

“Yes, Rolanda.”

“Louder!”

“Yes, Rolanda!” you desperately yell, tears streaming down your face.

You were starting to believe the self-degrading thoughts. Your fingers were pushed back into place. You close your eyes as she softly nibs your neck. “Heheheh. I don’t even need to possess you. You’re making it that much easier for me to break you. Men are right to be sacred of demons…and women. And it’s only a matter of time before you and your race are all gobbled up.”

She trails a claw down your cheek and neck. She strokes your neck with her long yellow tongue and you’re too weak to flinch away.

“We both know now that the only choice you have is giving up,” she grins right into your face. “You now understand your miserable life accounted for nothing. Your failings led you into my trap to meet your fate.”

“But still, you are doing me a great flavor,” she muses. She lowers and licks your tears from your face. “You’re giving me your body, mind, and soul. Your sorrows are a great delicacy, and I appreciate you providing them for me. You’re useful for something at least.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse…

Rolanda laughs darkly. “And now, last but not least, my favorite part. You’ll be ready to die after this.”

She moves her esca down to eye level. In one last feeble attempt, you scrunch your eyes closed. Rolanda stands behind your head and pries your eyelids open with her claws. Tears spill from your eyes as you’re forced to stare into the dangling esca. She moves it from side to side in a hypnotic fashion and a haunting hum drones from her throat.

Icy dread and fear floods your veins as you lay helpless on the floor. You find yourself screaming as scenes begin to flash in your mind at top speed. All sorts of horrific scenes and memories. Some of them were illusions of fire and snakes and leeches. Others were your biggest traumas and worst childhood fears rushing to the surface like a giant wave slamming into you. Soon you couldn’t tell them apart. All the ways you hurt others, all your mistakes played like a horror movie in your mind, with no way to stop it. Friendships lost, babies struggling, parents gone too soon…

Your parents chiding you for not being good enough. Bullies taunting you in school hallways. The exhaustion of long hours at work. Natural disasters, fires, and earthquakes wreaking havoc across the land. Scenes of wars, bombings and crying children with worn clothes and starved bodies. The whimpers of dogs and cats being tormented…

…the bodies of your beloved pets, friends, family, and lovers lying in a heap by your feet….

…the grief of not getting enough done in your short life…

You gasp painfully for breath as Rolanda sinks her teeth into your neck and shoulders, red blood smeared all over her mouth and fangs. You head flops helplessly to the side.

“Thanks for being such easy prey,” she laughs as she slurps. “Good luck in Hell or wherever you go.”

The last thing you see is one of Rolanda’s bloodied heels before death blissfully takes you.

[tachvintlogic]

Some more Maurice Foley headcanons

Tucker's dad who works in tech

-Currently works in IT security for some company, or as an independent contractor. Regardless, his boss is always an idiot.

-He has very little trust in the competence of technology and people.

-He used to work as tech support for a hospital where Dr. Angela [Insert-headcanons-for-Tucker's-mom's-maiden-name-here] worked. He met her when she was having a technical issue.

She was the perfect end user. She explained exactly what the problem was, the steps required for it to occur, and basically everything that a sleep deprived tech could ask for.

So of course he fell in love with her and asked her out.

-Maurice got Tucker a rubber duck once. "It's a buddy for you to explain your problems to," he had said. Maurice meant tech problems but Tucker only uses it to vent about girl problems.

-He likes to give Tucker lots of unsolicited advice which usually has to do with work. Here are some examples:

"Tucker, remember that users lie."

"Tucker, never give work a way to contact you outside of work hours, or they'll think it's okay to call in the middle of the night about a problem that could've waited 'til morning."

"Tucker, never click on a link in an email even if it's from your boss. Because you have to ask yourself, 'would my boss willingly forward a phishing email to all his employees telling them to click on the link?' and then you'll realize the answer is yes."

"Tucker, remember that doctors are the worst end users. Except for your mother."

"Tucker, remember most problems are PEBCAKs." "What's a PEBCAK?" "It means problem exists between chair and keyboard."

"Tucker, never expect anyone outside of IT to know how to add more paper to a printer. If you do, you'll just be disappointed."

"Tucker, if you work for IT, never agree to change a lightbulb just because it uses electricity. It's a slippery slope. And never let one of your coworkers do it either. You have to be a united front against bullshit tasks."

"Tucker, do you have any hobbies other than programming?" "Uh...kind of?" "Make sure to have at least two hobbies. One that people pay you to do, and one that you want to still enjoy in your free time and doesn't get all the joy sucked out of it by obligation."

"Tucker, remember to always get your responsibilities and tasks in writing. If something goes wrong, you want to be able to point to who exactly told you to do it."

"Tucker, remember that going above and beyond will never be appreciated. It will always become what's expected of you."

"Tucker, remember that users will never actually check if the computer is plugged in even when you ask, so always check that first." "Because users lie?" "Because users lie."

[reidslefteyebrow]

Forget-me-not: Part Eight

Masterlist

Reader x Spencer Reid | Spencer Reid x Maeve Donovan | BAU Agent! Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Explicit language, description of dead bodies, manipulation

Part 8/?

Link to previous part

He’d murdered yn, now it was time for him to pay.

******

‘We’re on our way home, Garcia,’ Derek murmured down the phone, conscious of the fact that the rest of the team were sleeping mere feet away. ‘Won’t be too long now.’

‘Already?’ The unmistakable tapping of the keyboard backed their conversation. ‘It’s only been 4 days, is there really nothing more to be done there?’

‘The profile was wrong,’ Derek slumped into his seat with a heavy sigh. ‘We thought that Maine was the sort of unsub who wanted to watch us from the shadows and revel in the chaos but… He’s in the wind again.’

‘Listen here, chocolate thunder, if you’re even thinking about beating yourself up over this psycho, I’ll meet you at the airstrip and give you what for.’

Derek chuckled, sinking further into his seat. ‘What would I do without you, Princess?’

‘Wallow in despair and never get anywhere with your cases?’

‘Speaking of getting somewhere, how far have you got with the paper the unsub uses?’

There were a few beats of silence before she continued. ‘Rossi was right. Lab results came back and there were over 85 different types of paper blended and remade into sheets.’

‘Could you-’

‘Trace any of them? Unfortunately not, each individual piece was pulped and soaked and pressed into unrecognisable itty bitty pieces that even the best minds wouldn’t be able to unravel. That’s not the thing that worries me, though.’

‘What’s up, Babygirl?’

Penny’s voice dropped to a tiny whisper. ‘Derek,’ her voice was trembling. ‘I think I’ve seen this paper before.’

******

‘Garcia, catch me up to speed,’ Hotch powered into the room with such intimidating authority that Penny was hard pressed to believe that he’d just gotten off of a 6 hour flight.

‘Well the thing is, Hotch, Sir, I’m not too sure that there’s much to get you up to speed with.’

‘Morgan said you knew where the paper was from.’

‘Well Morgan,’ Penny glared at the agent in question. ‘Was exaggerating. I’m running more traces on the paper as we speak, I just said that I recognise it from somewhere.’

‘I need to know, Garcia, so keep thinking.’

‘On it, Bossman.’ She dashed off to her lair, heels clicking as she went.

The rest of the team, once again, gathered around the round table, files in hand. No new murders had been reported and linked to Maine, but there was an aura of intensity that swelled and filled the room, everyone’s backs rigid for fear of relaxing and being caught off guard.

‘We need to talk about where we go from here,’ Hotch announced, breaking the silence.

‘We catch the bastard, that’s where we go from here,’ Derek muttered. ‘Why is this even a discussion, we have to stop him!’

An awkward silence settled over the room, papers being shuffled just to fill the void that Derek’s silence had left. Cogs were whirring in Spencer’s brain and then, as quick as a flash, the lightbulb dinged.

‘We’re not going to look for him, are we?’

Uproar. Chaos. Sheer and utter disbelief. Voices were raised and hands slammed the table. JJ was crying, Alex was aghast. Even Rossi, so calm and collected in front of even the most brutal mur

‘What the fuck, Hotch?!’ Derek bellowed. ‘That son-of-a-bitch murdered our best friend, Hotch, we can’t just let him go free to kill anyone else!’

‘He took yn from us, Aaron. She wasn’t just like a daughter to me, I know she was like one to you as well, let’s not forget that,’ Rossi murmured.

‘I’m not trying to forget,’ Hotch asserted. ‘I know just as well as anyone that the loss of yn has affected this team. Strauss doesn’t.’

‘Of course it was Strauss,’ JJ muttered. ‘Wicked old hag.’

‘Erin wouldn’t do this without good reason,’ Rossi mused.

‘She’s under a lot of pressure from the Director to use the BAU budget more ‘appropriately’. And to him, that means not chasing after someone whose profile keeps changing and focusing our energy on finding more ‘predictable’ unsubs.’

‘So the Director of the FBI wants us to stop tracking the man who murdered one of his agents because he thinks it’s too difficult?’ Spencer scoffed softly. ‘For the leader of a federal agency, he sure is stupid.’

‘Pretty boy’s right. It’s completely unreasonable for him to call us off like that.’

‘But not impossible,’ Hotch added, his frown cold and disappointed. ‘I’m not saying we have to like it, but we have to be seen to be doing what Strauss has asked us to do.’

‘Seen?’ Rossi asked.

‘Seen.’

A look of agreement passed around the room and calm settled over everyone. There was no way that they would ever give up on searching for Maine while he was still out there. What Strauss didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Derek opened his mouth to break the silence, but the pounding of feed and huffing breath beat him to the punch.

‘Agent Hotchner?’ Anderson was panting, clearly having sprinted up to the bullpen. ‘There’s an emergency out front.’

‘Can’t it wait, Agent Anderson?’

‘No Sir… There’s three dead bodies piled up outside… Your unsub put them there.’

******

‘Guess the Director can’t stop us from investigating now,’ Morgan chuckled darkly, eyes scanning the crime scene in a typically cryptic manner.

‘We nearly have the full set,’ Alex hummed. ‘First Emily, Garcia and Hotch; now you, JJ and Rossi.’

‘The bodies are emaciated,’ JJ noted. ‘He’s consistent in starving them, and the signs of torture by hand are even more obvious.’

‘He’s constantly evolving,’ Derek agreed. ‘He’s still learning what gets him off.’

Reid approached them from his spot at the M.E’s van, bloodied bags in hand. The pale blue flowers were taunting, shining through the dark liquid. ‘These were extracted from the stomach wounds.’

‘I’m guessing you’ve read them already, boy genius? What did mine say?’

‘Are you sure-’

‘Spit it out, Reid, goddamnit.’

‘Damaged people love you like a crime scene… How do you like this one, Derek?’

‘He was at the funeral,’ Derek started pacing, a scowl twisting his features. ‘That bastard was watching us grieve.’

‘Morgan, you need to calm down,’ JJ gripped his arm. ‘Acting out is what he wants.’

‘You want me to calm down?! How about we hear what was in your body, hmm?’

‘The others were a chore, but this one was fun. You watched her love him from afar and knew he could love her too, but being selfish is in your nature, Jennifer, and you wanted him for yourself,’ Spencer looked puzzled, his brow furrowed. ‘JJ? What does he mean?’

She at least had the decency to pretend to look equally confused. ‘Nothing, Spence, I really don’t get what he means.’

‘JJ used to have a crush on you, boy wonder,’ Derek laughed. ‘And she kept trying to keep yn away from you because she felt threatened.’

‘Oh…’

‘That was a long time ago, Spence… It’s irrelevant now.’

‘I hardly think it’s irrelevant that-’

‘As much as I love a good drama,’ Rossi piped up. ‘Don’t you think it’s a good idea to read all of the letters?’

‘Sorry Rossi,’ Spencer’s hands trembled. ‘If something was wrong, you were her rock. It truly is a shame that you crumbled before she could plead for your assistance one final time.’

‘His language has changed, have you noticed? We profiled him as lacking in intelligence but he’s using words like ‘assistance’, ‘afar’... It’s too sophisticated.’

‘Not to mention that all of the injuries our victims sustained look the same age, he’s escalated massively since his last kill.’

‘Before I could understand how he managed to subdue Hotch’s double - he likely threatened him with the life of Penny’s surrogate. But these are two strong men, how did he manage this on his own?’

One beat of silence. Two. And then.

‘Maybe he isn’t on his own?!’

Hotch emerged from the crowd at that moment, the air full of his authority as his presence became known. ‘They’re dispersing the crowd now. What have you got?’

‘Hotch,’ Spencer started. ‘I think Maine has a partner.’

‘We profiled him as a lone unsub.’

‘That was before he had a vendetta against us. He’s been evading us at every crime scene and now he’s captured, tortured and killed three people at the exact same time with no plausible way for him to subdue them all.’

‘The language that’s used in the notes doesn’t fit the profile regarding his intelligence,’ Alex took over. ‘His MO can change as much as he likes but he won’t be able to reach this level of intellect.’

‘It’s a classic dominant x submissive pairing,’ Derek finally stopped pacing. ‘Maine has found a guy who shares his views and is willing to help make them a reality.’

‘Chances are he’s flattering Maine,’ Rossi finished. ‘Telling him that he’s intelligent and that he admires how he works, then offering to help him elevate it to new levels.’

‘We need to release the new profile. We’re looking for Maine and his new partner, a man we know nothing about,’ Hotch huffed. ‘Let’s get to work.’

******

‘This is the most fun I’ve had all year!’

‘Didn’t I tell you, Rich? With your work and my planning, we’re going to destroy the BAU.’

‘Who’s next? That Blake bitch?’

‘No, I don’t think so. She barely had anything to do with the investigation, no point dragging out the inevitable.’

‘But-’

‘Don’t pout at me, Rich, you’re not a child. We agreed to my plan because we work well together. We’re nearly at the end, the fun part... ‘

‘The fun part?’

‘Of course, Rich. This is the part where we break Spencer Reid.’

******

Taglist: @thatsonezesty13 @peculiarinsomniac @mizelophsun11 @colorfulsunflowerx @bweakmybonez @hoeforquinnhughes @yoongi-holland @silverhetdanes @stumbleonmywords @big-galaxy-chaos @coalsmind @bakugouswh0r3 @actually-y @jenna-jd @spencersmagic @wifeyofeveryone @emxry-astxr @dreamerwasfound @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @dancingddays @matthewswhorennnn @hamagafaimshelbaruch @chocolovelp @aperrywilliams @runningoutofmotivation @navs-bhat @kneelforloki @reylo-hope @avidreider

Thank you @vinvantae for being my hype man always boo

Thank you for putting up with me everyone, I'm so so happy with this little filler bit before the REAL DRAMA gets going!

Link to next part:

[saltybaltic]

hello! if you’re taking requests as of right now, could I request a fic involving an extremely shy avenger!reader having an enormous crush on Nat and it being a running joke among the team because she doesn’t have a clue when it’s so painfully obvious to everyone else? I don’t care how it ends, go wild.... (take that as you will)

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - CONFIDENCE

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: You have a huge crush on one of your team mates but you’re too shy to ever do anything about it. Fortunately, people have noticed and you might be about to get some help.

Warnings: None

Words: 989

“You know she likes you right?”

Natasha’s hands stilled on the keyboard for a second, looking up at her friend with a frown, “Who?”

Scoffing at her answer, Clint took a swig of his coffee before responding, “Who? Like you don’t know.��

“Forgive me, I thought everyone on this team liked me.” shot back Natasha, giving him a sarcastic smile and going back to her work on the laptop.

Clint rolled his eyes and placed his mug on the coffee table, flopping down onto the sofa beside the red head and nudging her computer playfully with his foot to get her attention again, “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“And you’re being deliberately annoying.” muttered Natasha, shifting over slightly on the sofa so she was nestled in the corner out of his reach.

“Fine, you win.” conceded Clint, raising his hands in surrender before reaching for his coffee again, “But you should do something about it and stop letting that poor girl work herself into a fluster around you.”

Of course Natasha knew exactly who he was talking about. Everyone on the team seemed to know. In fact the only person who didn’t seem to realise you had a huge crush on The Black Widow was, well, you.

You had always been shy, and although joining The Avengers had succeeded in bringing you out of your shell a little, there was still certain social situations that you just couldn’t handle very well. So it was no surprise that when a beautiful woman flirted with you on occasion, you tended to find yourself reduced to a blushing, bumbling mess.

Natasha wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t deliberately toying with you or taking any pleasure in your squirming. Okay maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Did she find it cute when you would duck your head and fumble over your words whenever she sent a flirtatious comment your way? A little. But she wasn’t doing it to mess with you. She wanted to challenge you, encourage you, dare you to make a move. Because despite what you might be willing to believe, she liked you too. Ever since you had joined the team she had become quite fond of you, finding your quick wit, humour and kindness to others rather endearing. She saw the way you interacted with the others; laughing and making jokes, teasing one another playfully, and generally looking after each other. You had become something of a weakness of hers, finding her eyes drawn to you around the compound and just watching from a distance. All Natasha wanted was for you to finally gather the courage to interact with her in the same way, and she definitely wasn’t the only one on the team that was desperate for you to realise you had a crush.

At much the same time as Clint was questioning Natasha upstairs, you found yourself being given the workout of your life in the gym with Steve. Now they weren’t exactly giving out slots on the team to anyone off the street so you knew you possessed some desirable abilities, but going toe to toe with Captain America was a challenge for anyone on their best day.

Gesturing with your hands for a time out, you sucked in a breath and gripped your waist where you could feel a stitch forming, “Jesus Steve, let’s take five, you’re kicking my ass.”

“You’re doing great though.” encouraged Steve with a small chuckle, tossing you a water bottle from the corner of the gym mat, “I can tell you’ve been practicing.”

You shrugged, “Well as the newest team member, I feel I had some catching up to do.”

“Don’t talk like that, you’re already where you need to be.” reassured Steve, walking closer as he seemed to hesitate for a moment before deciding to speak, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more self confidence.”

“I have enough confidence.”

Steve nodded slowly, obviously not wanting to cross a line but still wanting to say something, “Around me? Sure. But you should be more confident around others.”

“Like who?” you asked, watching Steve carefully over your water bottle as you took a few gulps.

“Like Natasha.”

You almost choked on your water, “W-Why ... errr ... why do you say that?”

“You like her, right?”

Scratching at the back of your neck uncomfortably, you tossed the drink to one side, “That’s enough of a break, let’s go again.”

“Hey.” Steve grabbed your arm to stop you from heading back into the centre of the mat and offered a reassuring smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Try not to be so shy around her, she’s not as scary as she’d have you believe. Plus, between you and me? I’m pretty sure she likes you too.”

“I don’t ...” you trailed off in thought for a second. Did you like Natasha? You definitely admired her. You envied her confidence and sass. She was an impressive woman, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. And you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and flattered whenever she would flirt with you. It drove you crazy with frustration how shy you could be around her and that you were never able to say or do anything in response. It wasn’t lack of desire that was stopping you, of course you wanted to flirt back with her. Who wouldn’t?

A frown started to develop on your face the longer you thought about it, realisation suddenly dawning on you. It was so obvious now. You didn’t just admire Natasha, Steve was right - you did like her.

He seemed to see the lightbulb moment as it unfolded, patting you on the shoulder reassuringly with a small laugh as he motioned you back towards where you had been sparring, “Don’t worry about it, just something to think about. Now come on, show me what you’re made of.”

You let yourself process the discussion with Steve for a few days, keeping mostly to yourself as you thought about it in depth. You almost felt stupid for taking so long to realise, so much of the past few weeks making sense now. There had been more than a few occasions where a team mate had made a teasing comment, all in good fun of course, about your blushes and stuttering around Natasha. You had assumed it was just banter amongst friends about your chronic shyness but now it was painfully obvious that you were the last person in the building to realise you had a crush on Natasha.

Although you had given yourself adequate time to consider your revelation, you hadn’t exactly formulated a plan to deal with it. Unfortunately it seemed that you weren’t going to be given any more time to come up with something, when your quiet evening alone on the sofa was interrupted by the very woman who had been consuming your thoughts.

“Mind if I join you?” asked Natasha, plonking herself down on the sofa beside you without waiting for a response.

Shifting your attention from the movie on the television, you looked across at the other woman and swallowed, already feeling your mouth becoming dry as you silently shook your head.

“What you watching?”

You blinked, taking a moment to inhale a calming breath and internally encouraging yourself before engaging your brain to speak, “I-I don’t know really, it was just on and I kind of got sucked in.”

Natasha nodded, glancing at the television briefly as she leaned back against the sofa. Her arm lay across the cushions, bent at the elbow as she raised her hand and rested her chin on it. Her eyes drifted back to meet yours, watching you carefully, “The boys say I make you nervous. Is that true?”

Panic.

Your first instinct was to run, heart hammering against your rib cage as for the first time, Natasha put you on the spot. You could already feel the heat rising in your cheeks and there was a distinct possibility your palms were sweating.

“I errr ...” you took another breath to compose yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to remain calm, “I suppose it is, yeah.”

Natasha’s lips turned up slightly at that, her chin still balanced on her hand as she studied you, “You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“I shouldn’t?”

Shaking her head, Natasha broke out into a proper smile, “I mean don’t get me wrong, you look cute when you’re nervous.”

At her comment you had to look away, biting down on your lip and pressing the back of your hand to your cheek to confirm the fact that yes, you were definitely getting flushed now.

Natasha chuckled quietly, “Yeah, there it is.”

Hoping to take Steve’s advice and scrambling for all the courage you could muster, you looked back at the other woman and cocked your head curiously, “Do you just enjoy toying with me or ...?”

“Or what?” asked Natasha, the subtle smirk on her face suggesting she knew exactly what you were asking. After a few seconds of silence, she took the initiative and filled in the blanks for you, not wanting to put you on the spot too much given that this was already the longest the two of you had ever spoken, “I’m not toying with you ... I was just trying to gauge whether the rumours were true and if I should ask you out on a date.”

You had to fight not to gasp in surprise, sure that it would probably be the most embarrassing response you could have, “A ... a date? With me?”

“Well I don’t see anyone else around.” joked Natasha, gesturing around the empty room, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Shaking your head perhaps a little too eagerly, you turned your body to face her properly, “No that. Um. That would be nice.”

“Great.” answered Natasha, shooting you a reassuring smile as she went to get up from the sofa, “How does tomorrow night sound?”

“I ... that would. Err. Sure. Tomorrow. Good. Yes.” you could barely speak now, sure this must be some kind of fever dream and it couldn’t actually be happening.

Natasha simply laughed, standing up and leaning over to squeeze your shoulder gently before turning to make her way out of the room, “Yeah you’re still cute. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Unable to do or say anything else, you silently watched her walk away, unable to quite believe what had just unfolded. Natasha Romanoff had asked you out on a date.

As if finally realising what had just happened, you couldn’t help but break out into a smile. If it meant Natasha had finally asked you out, maybe all that teasing from the rest of the team had been good for something after all.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (7)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(I know y’all are getting tired of waiting for Techno to arrive, so am I! But I have no solid control over the story plot lol but I swear it’ll happen soon!! And y’all know the drill! Reblogs and comments keep this story going. So if you want a chapter 8 then please show this chapter some love! <3)

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

(FORGOT TO MENTION ART!

The amazing 'YeetUsFeTUSDelETusss' on DA was so cool and drew two pictures to bless our eyes!!)

READER HERSELF!

READER PROTECTING HER BOYS!

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

Only Tubbo showed up the next day, and he said he sadly couldn’t stay for long because him and Tommy were needed back at L’manburg for a while. Meaning him and Tommy wouldn’t be able to visit for a bit, but they’d try to visit as soon as possible! Hearing they’d not come see you for who knows how long made you pretty sad. You honestly looked forward to when they’d visit. It was honestly the highlight of your day. But you knew whatever nonsense was going on in L’manburg currently would need their attention. Though you wondered what exactly was going on. You recalled a decent amount of the ‘history’ of the Dream SMP but you knew you could be misremembering or even mixing things up. But you did remember the big things that happened. Like the wars and stuff. So needless to say you were concerned.

‘What point in history am I in right now? Whenever it is, L’manburg is apparently still standing,’ you thought pensively before asking Tubbo what was going on that they’d need to stay in L’manburg.

Tubbo sighed and said it was ‘just some drama’ but apparently their, meaning his and Tommy’s, older brother figure Wilbur had been president of L’manburg for the entirety of the time L’manburg had existed. But some new citizens who joined them found out he’d not been properly elected and didn’t think it was fair to everyone that Wilbur had basically just made himself president without any input from everyone else. Which you could see was not right but this information told you that you were in the pre-election time. Which meant Schlatt and Quackity hadn’t won yet… But that hinged on this universe even being the same one that you’d watched on youtube. Things could be different here for all you knew. You’d always believed in the multiverse theory so who was to know WHICH universe this was. Or how you even got here. All you could do really was to just… wait and watch.

A couple hours passed during the short visit and towards the end Tubbo showed you how to message others, ie; him and Tommy mostly. You’d known how to message others and put in commands and stuff in regular minecraft but you’d just sort of never thought to try those things here in this place. Though to be fair you’d been dealing with a lot of stuff so fiddling with your inventory and everything hadn’t been your top priority. And when he’d mentioned messaging him your first thought had been ‘how?’, because this was a ‘real life’ minecraft, where things were very similar but not always exactly like how it was in the real game. The biggest difference being that there was no computer keyboard or ‘screen’ for the type/chat option to be at the bottom of like in the game.

But to your surprise the place to type in a message was actually IN your inventory. More specifically it was at the very bottom of the main section right below where your items were stored in the hot bar. You’d never paid the long ultra thin box at the bottom any mind, assuming it was just part of the weird design. But no, Tubbo showed you with his inventory how if you tap on the thin box (that you’d honestly thought was just a line) it expands into a typing window! Your eyes widened at that and watched as he tapped the typing box again and a little keyboard appeared below the typing box and he started typing something into it. You squinted and he said to message someone you needed to be sure to type ‘/msg’ and then whoever’s name you’d like to send the message to!

He demonstrated this by typing out the first part then right after it typing your ‘name’; aka Reader. Briefly you wondered why it had been made that but you brushed that thought away to focus on what Tubbo was doing. You saw him type ‘hi reader!!’ before hitting Enter. Then a second later you heard a soft ‘ping!’ sound and you just KNEW your inventory was waiting to be pulled up. Like knew in an instinctual sense. Like how you knew to blink or how to walk. Just an instinct you couldn’t explain so you brought it up and there at the bottom the ‘line’ was flashing a pale red. So you did what Tubbo had done and tapped it, revealing the little typing box. Only this time it had a message in it! It said, ‘Tubbo whispers to you: hi reader!!’ and you smile. Excited now you type out a message to him and hit send. He got it and laughed after he read it. 

‘Reader whispered to you: hello my little goat boy!! :)’

After that he blinked when more messages popped onto his text box. These were from Tommy and Wilbur it looked like. With a sigh he checked his clock and dismissed his chat box before saying he was sorry but he had to get going. He’d actually stayed longer than he was supposed to. You were sad to see him go but knew he’d be back, and hey, now you could message him and Tommy to make sure they got back to L’manburg safe instead of just wondering like before. So you told him to be careful on his way back and to message you that he was safe home when he arrived, and also if he needed any help. He laughed and cheekily said he would but gave a shy smile when you pulled him into a hug and gently knocked your antlers with his horns, but he happily returned it. Not so secretly enjoying the affection. But he had to pull back and leave.

That left you to your own devices.

-0-

With nothing better to do you initially spent the next three days building a couple fountains in the village (which was getting pretty big..). One tiny frog shaped one in the little grotto at the west side of the village and a much larger more traditional one in the opposite side of the village. You’d even set up park benches, flower plots, lamp posts, and stone sidewalk around the bigger one. It was very pretty and the villagers seemed to be enjoying it. But after that was done you’d sorta gotten bored. You weren’t really inspired to do anything else to the village so you thought of ways to occupy yourself. Eventually a metaphorical lightbulb flickered to life above your head and you got an idea. 

You could go to the Nether! 

Sure you weren’t the biggest fan of the place but it beat sitting around twiddling your thumbs waiting for a reply from your only two friends like some loser. And hey, you liked giving piglins gold. They made cute little piggy snorts when they were happy. So with that loose plan in mind you got up from where you’d been lounging by the creek and brushed yourself off before heading out to the place outside the bamboo and prickle berry wall you’d placed the first Nether portal. You crafted one real quick before tensing up when you heard the sound of rustling behind you. Assuming it was a creeper or something you glanced back, not that it would hurt you but you still found it unsettling for anything to be sneaking up behind you. You caught a brief glimpse of something small and white disappearing into a cluster of ferns. You paused, wondering what it was but then about a block to the left of the ferns a chicken and her chick walked out from around a tree. ‘Oh, must have just been a baby chicken’, you thought with a mental shrug before turning back to your task of lighting the portal with your flint and steel.

Once activated you stepped into the purple swirling mist and your vision warped before you ended up in the Nether again, stifling heat and all. 

-0-

You’d been exploring the Nether for what felt like hours. The place was goddamn enormous! You’d followed the same sand block trail from the last time you’d been here, seeing the piglins and a few striders along the way. And to your delight a familiar little piglin baby started following you. She (you think she’s a ‘she’, that’s the vibe you’re getting anyways) had to be the one you’d played with the last time you’d been in the Nether. You crouched down and patted her head and pulled a golden carrot from your inventory before gifting it to her. She squealed happily and munched on it. You kept walking along the sand path before reaching the fortress. That’s when you diverted your path to the right and started exploring that way, careful to keep laying down sand as you did. You thought the baby piglin had stayed back but after a while of walking you heard a soft snort and glanced down to the left of you to see her happily trotting along with you, still nibbling on the golden carrot.

You wanted to melt, she was such a cutie pie. You stopped and asked if she should be travelling so far away. Won’t her parents miss her? She blinks and seems to understand you before shaking her head ‘no’. You figure she must have some pretty lenient parents. But you suppose piglins are sturdier than humans so it makes sense they’d keep their kids on a looser leash than humans would. So you ask her where her parents are and if they’d be okay with her wandering off with you, a stranger. She tilts her head and shrugs. You purse your lips and ask if she can take you to her parents so you can ask if they’d be okay with it. This time she shakes his head no. So you ask her why and she seems to be thinking how to answer before she goes over to the closest block of sand and starts drawing in it. You look over her shoulder and see her drawing three hearts. Then your stomach sinks when you see her draw an ‘X’ over each heart, meaning one thing..

“Oh sweetie, did your parents lose all their lives?” you ask in a gentle tone.

The tiny piglin nodded and your heart broke for her. You asked some more questions and discovered she wasn’t really being taken care of by any one piglin. The other piglins knew her parents were gone so they’d sorta chip in to make sure she had food. But that was really it. This made you feel worse so you just sighed and patted her head and said she could join you while you explored the Nether. She snorted happily and you two continued on your way. Eventually after walking for a bit you came across a warped forest. You had to admit the biome was much prettier in person. The stark contrast between the Nether’s usual red color scheme and the teal of the warped forest was really beautiful. Even the weird little green/orange fungus that were growing everywhere were cute. You even picked a handful to keep, placing them in your inventory before continuing your little jaunt with the baby piglin. 

That last thought made you mentally pause and realize that you couldn’t just keep calling this kid ‘baby piglin’. So you stopped walking and looked down before saying you forgot to introduce yourself. She could call you Reader (since that’s what your little name thing said..). Then you asked what her name was. She blinked before snorting a little, like she was clearing her throat, and said, “Azogamay.” 

You smiled and said you liked her name, making her give a cute little tusked smile. Then as you continued exploring you both made small talk. Nothing deep (how deep could conversation get with a little kid) but you asked each other the usual questions. Like favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite animals, etc. Then Azo (you’d taken to shortening her name to make it easier) answered one of your questions with some gibberish that made you pause. You glanced down at her and gave a ‘huh?’ that made her giggle before apparently remembering you weren’t a piglin. She said she forgot and spoke Piglin. That made you raise your eyebrows because you’d never thought about other species in the game having their own language. But now that you were thinking about it, it totally made sense. Of course they would, duh. Now very curious you asked her to teach you a little! Like did she know how your name would be said in Piglin? Her answer surprised you…

“Eaderray!” she said in her quiet baby voice.

Now you two had entered a wide soul sand valley, which made Azo anxious. She hid behind your leg, making you recall that Piglins didn’t really spawn in this biome or like soul fire (which is super common here). You had to admit the place was rather creepy. It didn’t help that the soul sand beneath your feet was emitting a rather creepy whispery wail. So you decided to turn back and try another direction. Azo seemed relieved and trotted along behind you. But once you were walking again you remembered your last thought and had a vague feeling about this ‘piglin speak’ and wanted to hear more. So you asked Azo some other words, just to test this theory of yours. And well…

Skeleton? Eletonskay…

Blaze? Azeblay…

Strider? Iderstray…

Lava? Avalay...

Gold? ...Oldgay (that may have made you snicker).

But you got the idea and honestly you cannot be held accountable for your reaction after you realized Piglins honest to fucking god spoke PIG LATIN.

You lost it. You laughed so hard you doubled over and had to brace your hands on your knees to keep from collapsing onto the ground. Azo didn’t know what was so funny but your laughter was contagious and she ended up laughing too, intermixed with little snorts that made you laugh even harder. It was a whole cycle. And by the end of it you’d laughed so hard you started coughing and had to sit down to catch your breath. The giggles returned a couple times but eventually you got control over yourself enough to be able to breathe normally again. As you sat there, little Azo looking up at you in amusement, you couldn’t believe the absolute batshit nonsense that was happening in your life right now. But out of everything that had happened, you think finding out Piglins spoke pig latin had to be the funniest. Though you wanted to test your theory further so you said to Azo,

“Ellohay Azogamay, isyay isthay ightray?”

Azo’s eyes brightened and she perked up, looking close to bouncing from excitement as she realized you were speaking ‘Piglin’ to her. She started babbling at the speed of light, in a way that all excited toddlers seemed to be able to do. While it was cute enough to pull a chuckle from you the downside was that you could not understand a single word Azo said. You got her to slow down, telling her you didn’t speak Piglin fluently so she would have to go slow with you otherwise you’d be lost. She nodded, just happy that you could understand Piglin. So she slowed down a lot and chatted with you that way. And that’s pretty much how the rest of your time in the Nether went. You traversed through the hellish dimension and brushed up on your pig latin with the little piglin. 

It has definitely been a LONG time since you’d even thought about the made up ‘language’. You’d had a friend in elementary school who had been Obsessed with it. It was all they spoke sometimes and they’d talked it up so much that it caught on with the rest of the class, yourself included, and soon everyone was using it to write notes to each other, like a secret language. You’d even speak to each other only in pig latin during recess and lunch breaks. You’d been fluent in it and didn’t even have to think before speaking. Though after a year it had lost its popularity and everyone slowly stopped using it since the fad was over. But you still remembered a good deal of it. Enough to speak it slowly anyways. But the more you used it the easier it was to speak it. It was like riding a bike you supposed, you never truly forgot it.

-0-

Things were going fine until they weren’t. You’d stopped to have lunch in a crimson forest, more for Azo’s benefit than your own, and were sitting and eating for a while before Azo started playing with a baby hoglin. Which had been fine, you’d seen baby piglins and hoglins do that in the game before, no biggie. But they’d gotten rambunctious the way kids do when they’re playing together. And while chasing each other around Azo had smacked into one of the adult hoglins, which had pissed it off enough for it to snarl angrily and start chasing Azo. And Azo in turn began squealing in fear while running away. You’d dropped the steak you’d been idly munching on and sprinted after the two. Sadly the hoglin was closer to Azo than you and managed to get one good hit in with its tusks, the force behind it practically yeeting Azo up into the air. You yelled in horror as you watched the baby piglin fall down into a lava filled ravine. 

Panic flooded your body, you knew zombie piglins were fireproof but regular piglins were not as far as you knew. Let alone baby piglins who just took a direct hit from a damn hoglin. So without thinking about it you dove into the ravine after Azo, catching her in your arms and fully planning to hold her up above the lava since it wouldn’t hurt you. Once she was in your arms you jerked back instinctively, not sure why, just maybe bracing for the impact with the lava. You waited but… nothing. About that second you realized that you weren’t moving anymore. You’d come to a halt and at first you wondered if maybe you’d landed on a block and not noticed. But… one glance down revealed you were not in fact standing on a block. Actually you weren’t standing on anything. You were hovering about 3 or 4 blocks above the bubbling lava at the bottom of the ravine. You were so stunned that you almost missed the sniffling snorts that started up next to your face but thankfully they broke you out of your shocked state. You looked at Azo and your heart broke when you saw her tearing up and looking close to crying. Forgetting momentarily about whatever the fuck was going on with you floating you focused on soothing her.

“Aw sweetie, are you okay? You took a hit from that hoglin, where does it hurt?” you cooed.

She was babbling mostly, being too upset to try to speak English. And understanding crying pig latin was almost impossible. So you just asked her to point where it hurt. She reached for her back and side and you softly told her you were going to lift her shirt a little bit to see if there was a mark, and she nodded shakily and sniffled while you did. You winced at the blooming bruise and adjusted her so you were basically cradling her and with your free hand you opened your inventory and started looking through the potions. You grabbed a healing potion and uncorked it before offering it to Azo, whose snout wrinkled at the potion. You told her it was alright, it was a healing potion that would make her feel better and get rid of those bruises for her. She looked unsure but still let you raise the mouth of the potion bottle to her lips so she could sip it. She took a few sips before hiccuping, potion swirls wafting off of her after she did. The baby piglin blinked and felt the pain in her back and side start to disappear. 

You smiled and said that must feel better, Azo nodded and was happy she wasn’t hurting anymore. You let her take one more sip for good measure before putting the cork back into the bottle and stashing it in your inventory. But once that was done you were reminded of your current predicament. You were still floating in place above a ravine of lava.. With zero clue on how to move too. Briefly you internally panicked at the thought of just.. never being able to move again!! Being stuck fixed in one spot forever with no way to get down or live freely! Though before you could panic further you took a deep breath and told yourself to relax. This wasn’t permanent, it couldn’t be. There logically has to be a way for you to move. You got yourself stuck here and you’ll get yourself down as well.

And the last thing you wanted was to look scared with Azo here with you. She was just a little kid and needed the only adult around to be strong for her. So you put on a smile and reassured her that things will be okay and you’ll figure out how to get them both safe on land in no time. Azo nodded, looking less worried than before. So you started trying things you think would get you to move. You could move your limbs no problem. Proven by how you could move Azo around with your arms and kick your legs about without issue. But your body as a whole was still locked in place. Though when you leaned your upper body to the left you hit a breakthrough! Tilting your torso to the left managed to move your whole body to the left by about a block and a half! Now onto the right path you started leaning your torso this way and that, figuring out what movements actually got you moving and which ones didn’t. Figuring out how to move side to side and forwards and back was pretty easy. But it was figuring out up and down that was tricky. 

At the moment going down was the last thing you were interested in, what with the lava beneath you. So you tried focusing on going up, and after a lot more wiggling about that you were sure made you look like an idiot to anyone who could be watching (Azo only giggled a little) you finally figured out that to go up you had to tense and stretch your torso a specific way. Like exactly how you would do if you were trying to reach something on the top shelf, only you didn’t have to move your arms or legs the same way, just your torso. Like how people straighten themselves to seem taller, not slouching at all. After getting that down you manage to go up and then over out of the ravine. Which was a relief and a half. Now that the threat of sinking into lava wasn’t a worry you instead fixated on getting down. Thanks to figuring out how to get up you had an easier time getting the hang of getting down.

Once your feet touched the ground the floating thing disappeared and gravity was restored to you, making you able to walk around normally again. You gave a small cheer, Azo snorting happily as you carried her back to your spot on one of the crimson mushroom tree tops. Once seated you let out a breath and felt your shoulders relax. You hadn’t even been aware they’d been so tense, but you guess it made sense what with how you just sorta had a weird physics related mishap. But now that you and little Azo were safe you felt like you could breathe again. 

You took a golden apple out of your inventory and took a bite, the sweet juice soothing your metaphorical ruffled feathers. You noticed you mostly just eat for the taste now. Which was fine you guessed. When you glanced down you held the apple close to Azo’s face, asking in semi-good piglin if she wanted a bite, chuckling when she eagerly sunk her little teeth into the sweet fruity flesh of it. You gave her the rest and just watched the other Nether inhabitants mill about peacefully. Today had been a wild ride for sure. At least compared to your usual peaceful days. You leaned back against the lump of red fungus behind you, Azo cradled in your arms, and sighed calmly. You’d been ready to rest your eyes when you heard a soft ‘ping!’ that had you blinking back into focus. It was your communicator app thing. Thinking it was just Tubbo messaging you to say goodnight or something you casually opened the message. But when you did you raised an eyebrow at the note from your kid.

‘Tubbo whispers to you: the election is tomorrow afternoon, can you come? 

‘Tubbo whispers to you: i’ve got a bad feeling.. i’m not trying to pull you into our mess’

‘Tubbo whispers to you: but idk i’d feel better if you were there.’

You had a bad feeling too… You hoped what you likely knew was going to happen DIDN’T happen but.. it probably was. So you sent back a quick reply to Tubbo.

‘You whisper to Tubbo: of course I will! you can show me around your home! :)

You tried to keep your reply upbeat and happy, not wanting to feed into the teenager’s worry. Even though you were probably more worried now that he was. But regardless.

It looked like you were visiting L’manburg.

[songbirdsingingthings]

Jingle Bell Rock - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

DAY THIRTEEN OF 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

“Oh, come one Katsuki, it’ll be fun!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not - it’s stupid.” That was where your conversation had hit a cycle. Your task entrusted to you by Jirou and Kaminari had definitely been the most difficult. Yeah, they had to lug all of Jirou’s instruments into the center of the room and set everything up, but you had to be the one to try and convince Katsuki to play the drums for a mini Christmas concert for the rest of your classmates.

“I think it’ll be fun.” You say, your hands raising to rest on your hips as you look at him laying on his bed, reading a book. He merely peers up at you from over the top of it and looks back to the words on the page.

“Why are you acting like you’re gonna be losing sleep over me not playing with you guys? It’s really not that exciting.” He says simply, flipping the page. You sigh and rub your temple. Reasoning with your boyfriend isn’t an easy task but you usually manage to pull through. This time, however, was proving to be strenuous.

“Because it’s a nice thing to do for the rest of our classmates.” You say, moving one of your hands to rest on his kneecap. Katsuki lets a bark of laughter out of his mouth and scoffs.

“Yeah, babe, you’re gonna need a much better reason than that.” You sigh and look at the floor, trying to think of something that would convince him to play. It didn’t have to be 100% accurate in truth, just something that would ensure his commitment. You smirk as a lightbulb went off in your head. You began to gather your things which the blonde-haired boy seemed to take note of since he finally sets down his book. “Where are you going now?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, since you won’t play, I thought that maybe Midoriya would lend a hand. He’s always up for stuff like that, ya know?” You say, biting your lip to keep from laughing, knowing that you’ve won. 

“OI! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE! I’LL BE DAMNED IF DEKU TAKES MY SPOT!”

Returning back to the common room with Katsuki, you earned several impressed looks from your classmates that were also involved in the band.

“Great, we’ve got Bakugou! Okay, Kaminari’s got his and Tokoyami’s electric guitars all hooked up and ready to go, the keyboard is plugged in, and Y/N, both of our mics are all set up.” Jirou says, crossing off items on her list with a pencil. You give her a thumbs up and walk over to your mic stand, adjusting the height. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Katsuki seated at the drum set, spinning his drumsticks between his fingers. You let a soft giggle flood from out of your mouth as you finally find the right height.

“All right gang, should we do a sound check?” Kaminari asks, his guitar pick in hand. You look around the group and see that they’re all ready to go.

“Let’s go for it!” Jirou says, adjusting her guitar strap. Like always, Katsuki the group with three clicks of his drumsticks and then you're off with a simple Christmas song, All I want For Christmas. You all sounded great, the sound of the instruments blending together wonderfully. When you and Jirou sang together, you had to admit, it was a pretty pleasing sound. Your voice and hers played off each other in harmonies and joined when belting out the lyrics, accompanying the instruments perfectly. You only played through half the song to make sure that everything was working well so you could save up the rest of your energy for the little concert you would be performing for your classmates.

“Nice job guys!” You say, tossing everyone a bottle of water. Thank you’s chorus from the group before you all took a swing and relaxed, chatting with one another.

“I think we have a good setlist for tonight,” Momo says, a warm smile etched across her face.

“Oh, I didn’t see it!” You say. Jirou hands you a slip of paper with all of the songs you would be playing tonight on it. Jingle Bells, Last Christmas, White Christmas, Underneath the Tree, Like It’s Christmas, All I want for Christmas, and finally, Jingle Bell Rock.

“The last one’s gonna be a hit,” you say grinning, “Katsuki will have fun with it.” You hand the paper to your boyfriend’s outstretched hand. He read over them and you could tell when he got to the end when you saw a light smile come across his face. However, as quickly as it was there it vanished as he put his usual annoyed expression back on.

“Yeah, whatever.” He says, handing the list back to you. His hands linger on yours a little longer than necessary, but the rest of your friends don’t notice. “Y/N, I need to talk to you for a second.” Katsuki grabs onto your wrist and drags you out of the room into an empty hallway.

“Yes?” You ask, both nervous and excited at the same time.

“Your voice,” he says gruffly, pressing a rough kiss to your lips, “it was beautiful.” Stunned at his comment you look at him wildly.

“Who are you and what have you done with Katsuki Bakugou?” You giggle, leaning your head against the wall. “Such a romantic compliment.” You quip, giving him a shit-eating smile.

“Whatever, don’t get used to it. At all. That was a one time thing,” He says quickly, pressing another kiss against your lips. “Now come on or we’re gonna be late to this thing that you got the both of us into.” He says roughly, leading you back into the room. You smile as you see the rest of your friends ready to go with the rest of the class seated and ready to watch.

“Ready to rock?” You say, a sly smile spreading across your face.

“Like a stupid jingle bell.” He replies, giving you a faint grin.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader 

Chapter 2 - ‘You’re inverted, the world is not’

Previous Chapter - The Life Changing Offer 

Summary: Neil leads you into the world of inversion and sometimes it might be a little bit too much to take in...

Warnings: Curse words. I’ve decided to bring up rating to T (just to be safe).

Author’s Notes: This came out incredibly long so sorry for that. Hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcomed! Thanks to my fellow Neil enthusiasts for inspiration and hype, you know who you are <3 

You have been following Neil through the crowded streets of London City almost breathlessly. He was walking fast and the shoes you chose were far from comfortable. Neither of you have spoken a word for the last fifteen minutes and you began to wonder whether this was a good decision. After all you have agreed to be lead to some obscure destination by a perfect stranger and did not even know his full name. But before you could voice any of those concerns, he has stopped in front of a grey building with a rusted metal door. He held them open, motioning for you to come in. Inside there was a darkened stairwell and an antiquated lift. As the door closed with a creak the only thought you had was that you were about to be killed. You turned to Neil with an arched eyebrow. The flashing lightbulb above made the shadows on his face stand out and drowned the blue of his eyes. You could only see the outline of his strong jaw and cheekbones. He was looking at you as well with that thoughtful gaze again. After a beat he spoke:

“Don’t worry you aren’t going to be murdered” the hint of smile was playing upon his lips “I have parked the car here” he explained and continued down the staircase not waiting for you.

You rolled your eyes and followed. His enigmatic attitude was starting to annoy you. But then all you could do was hope that you will receive some answers soon.

You found him waiting by a black BMW series 7. He was looking at you expectantly as though he was anticipating your reaction.

What did they use to say about not getting into cars with strangers?, you shook your head slightly.

“I really don’t have a choice but to get in the car, do I?” you asked rhetorically while contemplating the absurdity of the situation you got yourself into.

He flashed you that sly grin again and just got into the driver seat.

Lord help me, you thought while joining on the passenger side.

You scanned the inside of the car with interest.

Tenet certainly isn’t on the budget, you noted while taking in the complex displays on the dashboard and the touch screen.

Neil started up the engine and soon you had left the underground parking. You tried to follow the road signs to guess where you were headed but quickly got lost amidst the different exits and turns. You were both silent. Sometimes you looked at Neil and would swear you felt him stare as well. Only once you have reached the highway, he asked:

“Do you have any questions?”

“Many” you glared at him, and he laughed at your deadpan expression “You haven’t told me your last name” you noticed after a few seconds of thinking.

“You have to be really interested in me if that’s the thing that bothers you most” he replied with a playful smile and you glared at him, stifling the sudden urge to punch him.

“You wish” you retorted under your breath.

Still, you felt your cheeks warm up with embarrassment and decided to stare intensely at the road ahead. Neil bit his lip and glanced at you though you could not see it. He was really enjoying teasing you, probably more than he could have expected.

***

You have arrived at your destination fifteen minutes later. Neil parked the car in front of an old warehouse with no signage or marked entries. You looked at him quizzically and he shrugged:

“Told you it’s a secret organisation” with that he got out of the car.

There were only three other cars parked in front of the building and the area was largely deserted. A high fence was separating the acres of land from the fields around and whoever was entering via the gate had to show ID to the small camera. Neil opened the door with that same ID card, and you followed closely, looking up into another micro camera that was guarding the entrance. He went straight to the desk that you assumed was some sort of reception area and after a small hesitation you joined him. There you came face to face with a smartly dressed woman seated behind the desk with a smile on her face:

“Good afternoon Neil” her grin got even wider as she stood up and beamed at him.

“Hello Anna” he replied with that charming smile on his lips.

God, she’s blushing, you noticed while looking at the receptionist. She has turned a lovely shade of pink and was trying to hide it by looking down at the keyboard. This was embarrassing. You had to admit that Neil is incredibly charming, suave and all but… seriously?! But your train of thought was interrupted by the man in question mentioning your name to Anna and adding: “Our new recruit”

You smiled politely at the woman and shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you” she beamed at you as well, but it was lacking that ‘looking at Neil’ spark.

You could not blame her for that. You could feel Neil’s gaze, quietly studying you and briefly wondered if he did that to all the new recruits. The silence has now stretched way too long for a normal social conversation, so you cleared your throat and answered:

“Mutually” you started praying for the awkward situation to end.

“I’ve got some papers for you to fill in” Anna handed you a small pile “It’s for the system and so that we can get you the ID card” you nodded and moved to the side, grateful for something to do.

You got absorbed in filling in all the obscure medical information they wanted. It was hard to suddenly recollect what vaccinations you have had in your late teens and whether you have already had chicken pox. Hearing some high-pitched giggles coming from the desk you glanced in that direction. Neil was leaning over the counter and ostensibly flirting with Anna if her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes were anything to go by. You rolled your eyes for the second time today and went back to the form.

What you have not noticed was that Neil has glanced in your direction just as you have been expressing your annoyance. He smirked and went back to entertaining Anna whose blind devotion was quite cute in his eyes.

Once you have finished filling in the papers you quickly got up and joined the two ‘lovebirds’. Anna took the pile without a further word and you could only await Neil’s instructions. He threw one last sly smile towards her and focused all of his attention on you:

“So are you ready to see what we are dealing with here?” the playful sparks contradicted the serious tone he spoke with.

“I’ve got nothing better to do” you flashed him your cheekiest smile and was pleased to see him slightly surprised.

Well two can play the game…

***

He led you through the maze of corridors into a small laboratory. Although surprisingly it also had a shooting station and a cabinet full of artillery and arms. Neil headed straight for the case and took out an ordinary looking Glock. He handed you the gun and you automatically checked the magazine to find it empty. Neil only motioned for you to join him by the shooting station.

“Just aim and pull the trigger” he instructed, and you glared at him.

“With an empty magazine?”

“Yes exactly”

You shrugged and adjusted your stance, constantly feeling his gaze boring into you. Letting out a long exhalation to focus, you aimed the gun and pressed the trigger. What came next took you completely by surprise. The moment you released the trigger, a bullet flew into the barrel with a little more force than you were used to, and you stumbled, nearly falling into Neil. He caught you with one hand on your arm and grinned, seeing the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Wasn’t expecting that, huh?” he let go of you after taking one last look at your expression and took the gun back “That was an inverted bullet” he explained “So you catch it instead of firing”

That was a lot to take in. You slowly nodded, trying to process it all.

“Are you ready for inversion?” he asked after giving you space to think for a short while.

“Nope” you grinned “But lead the way”

He stared at you for a little longer then, scanning your face in search of something. But this time you stared right back, facing him with determination. After thirty seconds, which felt like much longer, he turned away and opened a heavy door on the right side of the laboratory’s wall. You followed, not knowing what to expect at all. What you did not anticipate was to enter a darkened room with the lights tinted red, where one of the walls had a massive glass window inserted into it. On the other side of the glass you could see a very similar room but with the light tinted blue. At the opposite end from where you came in there was a massive barrel-shaped metal structure with a doorway and complex mechanisms around it. You noticed that there was the exact same thing on the other side of the room.

“Any questions?” Neil was casually leaning on the wall with his hands in the pockets, observing you with a small smile.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the machine.

“That’s the turnstile. We use it to get inverted” he pushed himself upright and walked over towards you “They’ll explain how it works in technical sense during the training. But I can show you the practical side. Ready?” he run hand through his hair, ruffling it in process.

“More than ever” you took another deep breath of the day.

“Okay, so we’ll go through the turnstile once we can see ourselves entering it on the other side of the proving window” he gestured towards the glass panel.

You noticed with a start that in the other room you could see yourself and Neil. They were moving backwards. As they entered the turnstile on the blue side, Neil quickly took your hand and pulled you inside the machine. You felt the machine screech with the years of use and after a few seconds you were being led out of it and into the blue side of the room. Before you could process what just happened, Neil let go of your hand and continued his explanation:

“The air here is sealed but once we go outside you’ll have to wear an oxygen mask because your lung membranes are now inverted”

You nodded and looked at the other side and the scene playing out there. One that just happened for you mere minutes ago. You started feeling a bit dizzy by trying to understand but attempted to focus on Neil’s briefing:

“They’ll tell you all this in training but normally we wear those protective suits to avoid accidentally touching our forward selves”

“What happens if we do?”

“Annihilation” he winked, and you could only stare in shock.

“Don’t worry about that for now though” he reassured while moving towards the rack filled with respirators and hazard suits.

He handed you a mask with a small oxygen tank attached and you put it on, while he continued:

“Once we exit the airlock, you’ll feel a bit weird at first. You’ll have wind at your back and the gravity will appear reversed for the world around you. But we’ll be within a restricted area, so you’ll be safe” he put on the mask and started to open the door “If at any point you stop feeling alright, let me know okay?” he looked at you intently and you got surprised by seriousness of his gaze.

You just nodded and tried to prepare for what was about to happen. As the airlock opened and you stepped outside, you scanned the scene. The area you have entered was separated from the outside world with a tall fence and was very much like a small training zone with sparring equipment and shooting range. Carefully you took a few steps forwards and suddenly felt a gust of strong wind hit you on the back with force. You stumbled and felt Neil look at you worriedly. You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite feeling the familiar chill of anxiety creeping in. Usually in those moments you would try to focus on something mundane so you looked up at the sky, hoping that it would do the job. The moment you looked up, a pigeon flew by, cooing and diving near the fence. Only it was inverted for the way you perceived it. Panicked, you looked at the street visible on the horizon. The cars were running backwards too. That was enough to make the anxiety kick in.

Shit… you gasped and tried to take a deep breath but found that you could not. The respirator made you feel as though you were beginning to suffocate. Every breath was not enough. It felt as though you were stuck in an airtight container, slowly losing the precious oxygen. You turned away from Neil, hoping he won’t notice your distress. You started to hyperventilate with increasing speed. Suddenly you felt Neil’s hand touch your arm, trying to make you face him. You did not want him to see you like that, so you shook it off:

“I’m fine” your voice came out breathless.

You heard him huff out a few strong curse words before he forcefully made you face him.

“No you’re not. You’re hyperventilating” he glanced at the small barometer on your oxygen tank and frowned “Okay, look at me”

Grudgingly you forced yourself to meet his gaze, aware of your tear stained cheeks and ruined mascara. His blue eyes were steady, focused on you. He took one of your hands and placed it on his chest. Your eyes widened in slight confusion, but your mind was too busy panicking to think right now.

“You have to slow down so breathe with me” his voice was soothing; the cockiness was nowhere to be found.

He began to inhale slowly, and you tried to match his tempo while forcing yourself to calm down the racing thoughts. After a few deep breaths synced up this way you felt the wave of anxiety die down. Neil was still looking at you with concern.

“Think I’m better now” you muttered, feeling embarrassed at the scene you just made “Sorry, didn’t know it will be that bad…” you admitted shyly.

With a start you realised you still had your hand placed over his heart and that Neil was keeping it in place, looking at you with an unreadable expression. When you awkwardly tugged at your hand, he released it and asked:

“You really don’t like to ask for help, do you?”

“Not really, no” you smiled slightly, and he mirrored your expression.

Your eyes found his again and you both froze, unable to look away. After another minute, which once again felt much longer, you heard someone clear their throat awkwardly. There was someone else in the training zone. That sobered you up. You quickly took a step away from Neil and glanced at the newcomer, feigning calm and composure. It was a young man with a very anxious expression on his face. You briefly wondered how long he stood there.

“Patrick” Neil greeted him with a handshake “Everything alright?”

“Yeah” Patrick looked in your direction quickly “They need you for a mission”

“Now?”

Patrick just nodded. Neil walked back to you:

“Apologies but as you see I’m needed” he squeezed your hand quickly and you just gaped at him.

Only once he started walking back into the building, did you sober up:

“And you’re just going to leave me here?! I’m bloody inverted!” you shouted, ignoring the terrified look on Patrick’s face.

“Well… yes” Neil shrugged and sent you that annoying roguish grin “Patrick here can help you with the turnstile. I’m sure you two will manage”

You really wanted to punch him.

“Oh and your training begins tomorrow” he added “Anna will tell you the details” and with that he was gone.

Fucking hell… you groaned and looked at Patrick who stared at the ground, clearly hoping that the earth would consume him any second now.

You felt very tired.

[escapewriter]

Midnight Coffee

pairing : mingyu x reader

synopsis : who knew trying to finish your essay at a 24 hour cafe would earn you a free cup of coffee.

genre : very fluffy, humor, my attempts at trying to make it flirty, flustered gyu🥺

word count : 1.5k

a/n : I ACTUALLY REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS AND MADE MYSELF SAD. then i made my friend read it and it made her feel so single lmao. i apologize for any typos.

svt written masterlist || main masterlist

Your head fell forward, body jolting in reaction to try and keep you awake. Your droopy eyelids attempted to fight off the slumber your body craved. I need to finish this paper. 

You thought working on your homework at a 24 hour cafe would help you stay focused and encouraged; it doesn’t. 

Sitting up straight, you fixed your glasses and stared hard at your computer.

It was currently 12:24am. Anyone, whoever at this godly hour, who passed by the window of the cafe would see a stressed college student who had no clue what they were doing. 

Staring at your computer did no justice for you, but only gave you a headache. Yippie. 

You rubbed your temples and decided to eat your cold muffin that was bought hours before entering this predicament. The muffin did nothing but fill your empty stomach. A small nap shouldn’t hurt, right? I have some time to spare. 

Your eyes snapped open when you heard someone clear their throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll continue working. Don’t kick me out please.” Still half asleep, you typed on your keyboard; an unintentional keyboard smash. 

Your mind failed to register what the worker had said after leaving a coffee cup at your table and returning to their station behind the counter. Looking at it, you took a sip of the warm liquid, a new fire igniting within you as you pressed the backspace key and typed away. 

~

The cup was empty by the time you finished your paper. Although you weren’t satisfied with the finished product of the topic, it was finished. I have a week to fix it before it’s due anyway. How extra of you to finish it so early. 

You sighed happily and checked the time on your computer screen. 1:02am, I need to head home. You began to pack your things, the only remaining item on the table is the coffee cup. You shrugged, mind hazy and not remembering how that got there or if you bought it earlier. 

Throwing your trash away, you went back to your table to retrieve your bag before freezing in your spot. Quickly you sat down and took out a book, opening it to a random page. You lifted it high enough to make it look like you were reading, when in reality, you were staring at the gorgeous man that was on the opposite side of the room, reading a book too.

Your mouth fell agape, eyes focusing back on the book so it wouldn’t be that obvious if he caught you staring. If only Seungkwan was here so you could whisper yell at him.

Why have I never seen him before? You shook your head before glancing back up, making eye contact with him, then quickly averting your eyes back down, biting your lower lip in embarrassment. 

The man at the table smiled, thinking you were so cute trying to be subtle. You failed to notice your book was upside down. 

You slowly looked up again, seeing his brown orbs stare back at yours as you quickly looked away again. You squeezed your eyes shut, fuck it. You closed your book, putting it back in your bag and grabbing your things before standing up. You made your way over to the man, his eyes never leaving yours, a small smirk on his lips. 

Okay, you got this YN. He’s just a very attractive man that's all. No biggie. 

“This seat taken?” You glanced over to the chair that was across from him. He gestured his arm, signaling to have a seat. Taking your place, you took a deep breath in. 

“Now, why are you here at 1 in the morning and only reading,” He smiled and closed his book, crossing one leg over the other, “I could say the same thing to you Princess, although I do envy your talent.”

You tilted your head in question. He cleared his throat, “Reading the book while it’s upside down,” Your cheeks began to heat up as you purse your lips, “very talented may I say. You think you could teach me?” The man leaned forward, a smug look on his face. 

You narrowed your eyes, and straightened your back, lifting your hands in the air, “Looks like you caught me, but what can I say? You’ve looked in the mirror before, haven’t you?” He smiled and took a deep breath, “Well, I can’t say I haven’t, but I do look once in a while,” He ran his fingers through his hair, his ego clearly enjoying this. 

“Loving the compliment, huh?” You saw a blush creep onto his face and you smiled, “I’m guessing you do.” He shifted in his seat, both of you never failing to lose eye contact.

“Does this prideful man have a name?” 

“Mingyu, Kim Mingyu. And you are?” You gave him a cheeky smile. 

“What’s the fun with telling you my name? I liked it when you called me Princess.” His eyes widened, not expecting you to be so bold. 

He composed himself and leaned back to the chair, “Alright fine, I’ll become one of the guys that play the chasing game, although it did seem like you were after me, no?”

You rolled your eyes, heart pounding in your ears, “Oh please, who’s really chasing now?” He nodded in agreement, “I admit, this is very intriguing for me.” 

You shifted in your seat, trying to get more comfortable. “So, Mingyu, tell me. What is it that you do?”

Mingyu began to talk and you couldn’t help but just stare at him. From his dark luscious locks down to his eyes, then to his soft lips, and to his grey fitted suit. God, how is he so handsome? He opened his jacket, pulling out the business cards from the small pocket, showing you, then putting them back in their place. I should really listen to what he’s saying. 

“Princess?” You blinked a couple of times before looking back into his dark orbs, “Having fun there?” You smiled cheekily, “Can you blame me?”

He laughed slightly, “No fair, I’m the only one talking.” You leaned forward, setting your elbow on the table while your hand supported your head. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“A name would be nice,” He mumbled under his breath as you grinned at him, “but tell me, what course are you studying in?”

You winced, recalling back to the paper that you were struggling on writing earlier. “I’m an english major, nothing interesting, just the fact that I like writing.” He scoffed, “You call that mess earlier ‘I like writing?’” You shrugged moving your elbow off the table and playing with the sleeve of your long sweater.

“Writers have their moments when it comes to writer's block.” He opened his mouth making a ‘tsk’ sound, “I see, and you get those all the time?” He looked at you expectantly. He’s messing with me.

“No, in fact I do not. That paper you just saw me demolish? It’s due in a week.” You smirked at him as his face fell, losing whatever battle this was.

“Did you at least enjoy the coffee I ordered for you earlier? It seemed like it helped a lot.” Your brows furrowed, before the imaginary lightbulb lit up, “Oh! That was from you?” He smiled and nodded. 

“Well, I guess I have to repay you, now don’t I?” He smiled, “I guess you do. Do I finally get your name?” You stood up with your things, contemplating on whether you should tell him or not. 

“You’ll find out soon,” You walked closer to his seated form, bending over slightly to be level with his face, “but Princess fits me more, don’t you think? Unless you have a better name?” You ran your fingers through his smooth hair as he took a deep breath in. 

“No, Princess fits you.” You smiled, “Good. Now,” you reached into his jacket, feeling his muscles tense under the soft touch of your fingertips, and into the small pocket where his business cards were, “I’ll give you a call, Kim Mingyu.” You stood up straight and winked at him, making your way to the counter and speaking to the cashier before walking out of the cafe. 

Mingyu’s eyebrows rose, face flushed and embarrassed that you were able to fluster him. However, his thoughts immediately changed when he saw you skipping, arms up, a sign of success for you. He smiled and shook his head as an employee came over with a warm cup of coffee

Nice, 1:30am coffee he thought. “This is from YN.” He looked up, confused. “Who?”

“The person who just walked out, they said to tell you their name. Their name is YN.”

Mingyu smiled, thanking the employee before looking at the empty seat in front of him, “YN.”

[oblivious-embodied]

Sneak Peak to Chapter 2 of my ML ReWrite AU (unfinished)

“Claws Out?” Adrienne watches as Plagg spaghettifies as the tiny cat gets sucked toward the ring on her finger, and when Plagg makes contact, there is a blinding, green flash of light. 

When she regains her bearings, she looks down at her hand and holds back a gasp. 

Not only is her hand covered in a black substance, but her entire body is too! And the ring, the Black Cat Miraculous as it’s called, it’s all black, with a neon green paw print on the face. 

Looking at the rest of her body, she notes that she’s got bulbous things (possibly guards or safety features?) on her wrists. Tthere seems to be some padding that has been riveted to her forearm, as well as on her shoulders. 

There’s some black tubing running diagonally inward toward her heart from the middle of her deltoid to just above her peck, back down under her arm, up to her shoulderblade and back to her deltoid. 

She’s got a zipper up the front of her chest, with a bell hanging off the zipper lever. She’s got some pockets too! 

A black belt is wrapped around her waist that wraps around itself on the back to become tail-like, and it swings in lazy curls. Like a cat’s tail would. It seems almost curious in the way it curls in on itself, hesitating to touch Adrienne’s body. 

She’s got some sort of steel-toed boots, but they’re skin tight and the steel toes are incredibly large and resemble cat paws. 

Adrienne pokes the substance covering her skin curiously and bites back a yelp when a claw shoots from her finger, bouncing off the body suit before retracting. “Plaaaaaaaaaagg?” Adrienne calls out cautiously, unable to take her eyes of the suit that is laying on her body. 

When she hears no response from the genie-kwami-cat, Adrienne takes a look into the mirror and her eyes blow wide as she tilts her head in curiousity. 

Her hair has become longer by a good 2 inches, at least, and has become the literal embodiment of “bed-head” hair. It also seems to have a slight green hue to it. If her father ever saw her hair like this, he would ground her for a week and send her through a week and a half long powerpoint lecture of model hair care. 

Again. 

Then, when the initial shock of the new look wears off, she notices something that makes her heart warm. The new hairstyle frames her face incredibly well, it makes her almost want to look at her face. Makes her want to be happy looking at her face. 

She’s… never really liked looking at her face. It never looked right. It was never what she thought, what she felt her face should look like. Even when she was a kid, something was off. 

She’s still in the same body, the same wrong, male body, but it feels so much better than before. And she has absolutely no idea why. 

What makes her smile even wider are the cat ears sitting atop her head. They’re small and cute and absolutely adorable and the way they smoosh the hair underneath them makes them look all that much cuter. 

Then, she makes eye contact with herself and is instantly mezmerized by the neon green cat eyes sitting where her human eyes should be, framed by a black domino mask. 

She tilts her head to the right, to the left, she spins around and around and around and the eyes in the reflection still follow her. 

Then she realizes that those eyes in the reflection are hers. 

Taking a shaky breath, Adrienne takes a moment to calm down. Plagg said that he-- it??-- can grant her the power of... destruction was it? She can’t remember. 

But Plagg also said that she’ll have a partner, “the wielder of Creation”, whatever that means. She should go find her partner. 

Shaking her head, Adrienne takes a closer look at this new suit-clothing-thing covering her body, (it reminds her of that american superhero comic villian, she believes the name to be Venom? She’ll have to read up on it again) and determines it to be some sort of leather based off the way the material has subtle spiderweb cracks in it. And the way it smells. 

It’s a weird smell. She’s smelled leather before, the musty, almost new car like smell, but this is different. It almost burns her nose to smell. And… cheese? 

Shaking her head again, she takes a step back and straightens up, (when had she been hunched over? Father would kill her for having such horrible posture!) and lets out a low moan as her entire body *Cracks* and somehow she feels incredibly energetic. Like she could run the whole of the Périphérique twice over in an hour and not be out of breath! 

Taking a moment, she quickly calculates that running the Peripherique twice over in less than an hour would mean she could steadily run at 72 kilometers per hour, which means she could run even faster! 

And if she thinks she can do this *easily* that means that she can go even *faster!*

Watch out Paris, there’s a new thing coming to town, and she is *fast.* 

...And strangely cat themed.

Adrienne rolls her shoulders and finds that her entire body flows with it, like she’s dancing to a rhythm her brain has yet to register. 

As she bounces up and down a little bit, she notices that the soreness she feels in her shoulders, heck her entire body, that is usully there due to her job as a model for Agreste Fashions, is no longer there. 

Usually that only happens after a long nice massage. 

This is so strange. 

She rolls her head and works her jaw, which makes a popping sound in her ears and-

*crack!*

“*Ow!* That *hurt*” she cries out, slapping her hands over her ears in an attempt to keep the pain away, falling to her knees as she does so. 

Then all the noises flood her ears. 

She curls inward on herself, clutching her ears with tears in her tightly shut eyes as she can *hear* the electricity from the tv, the computers, the security system, the arcade games, her phone, from Everything in her goddamn *house*. 

She can hear the clicking of Nathalie’s keyboard, the breaths she takes, the footsteps of the kitchen staff. She can hear the electronic ringing of the lightbulbs, the honking from cars that comes from every concievable direction. She can hear the slamming of doors, shattering glass, the shrieking of metal, crumbling of concrete, cracking of bones and-

She screams, curling even tighter in on herself, which only makes her ears hurt more, but it’s something to keep her mind off of the Noise of Everything Else. She takes deep breaths, trying desperately to calm her rapidly beating heart (which she can *hear*) and her muddled thoughts. 

After a few seconds, she somehow manages to pick out the rapidly approaching footsteps from the utter cacophony of sounds drowinging her senses, and panics. She screamed bloody murder in her own house, of course people would come look for her. 

She looks her door. If they open that door, Nathalie will rush in. Nathalie wont recognize her, they’ll attack and she’d be the worst hero to ever exist.

She’d also get attacked by at least 6 grown adults, and possibly charged with something, and grounded and all that. 

She scrambles upward on wobbly limbs, trying to block out everything she can hear, and frantically looks around her room for something to do. 

Then her eyes lock on the window. 

And Adrienne does the only sensible thing. 

She jumps through the window, sailing through the tempered glass (tempered. Frickin. glass.) and onto another rooftop across the street where she stumbles behind a chimney. 

She didn’t even get cut. There is not a single cut on her body. What the hell *is* this thing? 

After a minute, when she’s finally calm enough to not be in a state of utter shock, she registers something hitting her leg and looks to see what it is. 

What she finds is a silver cylinder about 26 centimeters long, with a green paw on it, like her ring. 

With a curious tilt of her head, she unclips the cylinder from her belt with one hand, keeping her other hand to her ear to try to block out the noises wreaking havok on her ears. She finds that the neon green paw print on the cylinder is flickering like a lightbulb about to blow. 

She squints at the paw print, her eyesight slightly blurry from overwhelming noises, and with a half baked theory in mind, she puts the paw on her ring to the paw on the silver cylinder. 

….Nothing happens. 

Disappointed, she grabs the cylinder in both hands and glares at it. 

“What do I do with you…?” she grumbles as she squints even harder at it. 

…That big pad in the middle looks like a button. Buttons are meant to be pushed. 

It looks like a very pushable button. She should push it. 

Her right thumb twitches, but she doesnt make any moves to push the pad. 

It’s a simple display, it wont do anything if she pushes it. She shouldnt touch it. It wont satisfy anything. 

But she wants to. 

With the way the light catches on it, its like it’s daring her to push it. 

Which makes her want to 1) not push it out of spite, and 2) push it to mess with it. 

She takes a moment to pause and reflect on her thoughts. Is she going insane? Is she so overwhelmed that she’s literally fighting herself on touching a simple paw print display? 

...yes, yes she is. 

And without any futher diliberation, she touches her thumb to the paw pad. 

And promptly *shrieks* as the cylinder, which was previously only about 26 centimeters long, is suddenly *a meter and a half long*, making her jump back, slamming her head into the bricks (which does *not* help her headache) behind her and throw the cylinder thing, which, admittedly, is now more like a pole, onto a rooftop across the street. 

After another minute of deep breaths, she looks behind herself (she’s certain she slammed her head into the bricks, why isnt her head hurting? Well, aside from the intense headache) to the chimney and balks at sight of *shattered brick* in the shape of her head. Her hands shoot to the back of her head and 1) finds it doesn’t hurt to touch and 2) there is no blood whatsoever. 

She isn’t even wearing a helmet, or a hood or anything, how is she not bleeding? 

If she hit that chimney with enough force to *shatter brick*, she should have a major concussion, and be knocked out cold, but *apparently* the little cat-genie names Plagg forgot to mention a few things. 

If she can survive shattering bricks with her head and soaring through tempered glass, that means that her suit likely has some sort of kinetic energy absorbing properties. But it still doesn’t explain why the back of her head, which is completely unprotected, is unscathed. 

It also doesn’t explain how she was able to slam her head into a brick chimney and shatter brick. 

She needs to talk to Plagg about a lot of things once this is over. 

...What is she supposed to do again? Go find her partner? 

That seems like the best option. 

Adrienne turns around to look for the silver cylinder/pole, but slaps a hand to hert forehead when she remembers that it’s on a rooftop across the street. 

…Maybe she can jump the gap? 

How’d she get into this mess?

                                                 ———— 

Once Marinette can see again, she’s left dumbstruck, staring at her eyes and hair. 

She... her eyes are blue now, a vibrant, light blue. A very, very captivating light blue. As blue as a clear summer sky. And the red and black polka dotted domino mask framing her eyes only serves to make her eyes stand out that much more. 

She doesn’t like it. She wants her normal eyes back. 

And her hair... it’s blue. Her black hair has been replaced with navy blue hair, as black at the midnight sky, as though someone had dyed it in the split second she closed her eyes. She finds that it’s been tied up in her regular pig tails, but the hair ties are long red ribbons. They don’t seem like the most effective way of holding her hair up, anyone could grab hold and yank them out. 

She tentatively looks down at the rest of her body and is horrified to find that she’s wearing a ladybug styled *onesie*. 

...Maybe she was knocked out and it’s now the future where girls wear skintight, ladybug patterned onesies and have blue hair and wear domino masks and everyone has been genetically modified to have blue eyes and-

Gods she needs to calm down. 

Taking frantic breaths, she starts to rub her thumb in circles along her palm, focusing on the feeling of her thumb on her palm, imagining the tingling sensation that usually is the result of the action. She’s okay, she’s safe, she isn’t hurt, she isn’t in pain, she just looks different. It’s all okay. 

The world isn’t collapsing into utter chaos, nothing is wrong, she’s in control, she’s still Marinette, she’s okay. 

After a few moments of repeating this mantra, Marinette calms down enough to register the screaming outside and has to bite down the bile threatening to rise up her throat. 

There is a rampaging stone monster outside that is destroying buildings and property and monuments and is very likely- very likely hurting thousands of people. Not to mention, this means that she really *had* just been talking to a floating creature of an unknown race, unknown origins, made up of some sort of biomass that no one knows about, and this alien being can talk and can grant powers and all sorts of weird fairytale stuff, and is somehow able to conjure a suit made of magic that looks like a toddler wanted to dress like a ladybug for when they want to sleep and dream of flying. 

…Wow, that- that sounds even crazier than waking up in a dystopian future where girls have been genetically modified to have blue hair and eyes. 

She pinches at the suit, hoping to pinch herself, but doesn’t find any hold on it, her fingers sliding and slipping every which way, which irritates her beyond belief. *How in the world do you take this ^off?!^*

“Tikki?! Tikki, I want my clothes back!” She calls out to the alien-- kwami, the kwami, turning in place to look for the being she she getsno response. Marinette’s pinching becoming even more frantic as her heart rate starts to increase at the thought of not being able to take off the foreign suit. 

When she spins around to look in the mirror once more, something catches her attention, stopping her in her tracks. 

Around her waist rests a yo-yo. 

A… yo-yo… 

What in the world can anyone do with a *yo-yo*?

Why the hell does she have a yo-yo?

“Tikki, I’m not going anywhere like this-“

She cuts herself off as Nadja Chamack’s voice sounds from the news again, a hint of fear in her usually professional tone. 

“After wrecking the Shcüttler Tower, the monster is heading toward the Montparnasse Tower. No matter what the police do, the monster is unstoppable.” As she says this last part, the camera zooms in on this rock monster, and some crazy person on a bike chasing after it- wait is that?

“Alya?!” Marinette leans in toward the screen in shock. “What’s she doing out there?!” 

Marinette stares at the screen, dumbstruck as she tries to figure out how her new friend is so crazy, then she remembers what Alya had said just an hour before: *“Where there’s a super villain, there is always a superhero”*, her phone and in her hand. 

Just as Marinette’s hand is flying to her forehead to leave a red mark in the shape of her palm, Marinette’s maman calls out, freezing her hand milimeters from her forehead. “Marinette! Did you get home okay?” 

This sends Marinette into a state of panic, her arms and legs flailing around like a human amalgamation of medieval nunchucks, a strangles squeak escaping her throat. 

When she is no longer doing her interpretation of a squid in a net, Marinette calls back to her maman, turning around frantically to find a place to avoid her maman, her voice cracking. “*Oh!* Yeah mom, just super!” She can’t help but wince as her voice quavers nervously as she her eyes lock onto her skylight and bolting towards it, her heart beating a thousand kilometers a minute.

Not half a second after she wriggles halfway through the skylight and onto her roof, the trap door to her room opens slightly and her Maman’s voice float’s through the room “Marinette, you in here?” Concern clear as day in her tone. 

Marinette lays flat on the roof, holding her breath and pressing against the side of the wall to make sure her maman doesn’t see her in this ridiculous get up, solely so she doesn’t die of sheer embarrassment. 

After a few seconds, her Maman calls down to her Papa, the trapdoor to Marinette’s room clicking softly “Tom! She isn’t here, you *do* remember seeing her come through, right?” 

Marinette releases a sigh, her shoulders slumping as she turns to look up at the sky. It’s filled with dust clouds. 

This is... the weirdest day to ever happen. Hopefully, oh *gods* she hopes that this is all a dream and she’ll wake up on the first day of school again. 

How would anyone believe her if she were to tell them that someone got their hands on a piece of jewelry connected to a magical being, and now has the ability to sense and manipulate people’s *emotions* so that they can do their dirty work. That someone who was experiencing *normal human emotions* was turned into a literal rock monster that is unstoppable. How is she supposed to tell anyone that she, in her ladybug onesie, yo-yo, and apparent powers to create *anything* and a partner, who apparently has the powers of *destruction* are supposed to get this piece of jewelry back. 

Oh wait, of course, how could she forget, she *can’t* tell anyone. And even if she wanted to, they’d just think she was crazy and throw her into a mental institution. 

Granted, Marinette is pretty sure she has gone crazy. 

All Marinette wants to do is lay down and sleep. Why can’t she just do that? Just lay down on this rooftop and close her eyes and let the world around her melt away. 

Wake up tomorrow on the first day of school and only worry about Chloe being a bully, and not about all this ancient magic and manipulation and the fact that she’s one of the two people who have to take care of it. 

Wait…

Suddenly, Marinette sits upright, eyes blown wide. She’s 13 years old! She just started her first year in college! She’s got a family! She can’t be dealing with magic and ancient rituals and evil guys who are likely looking to kill everyone and are in their 40’s and likely living in their mom’s basement because they prefer shouting at kids over the computer and what if her partner is an adult! Will they just laugh at her and pick her up and set her aside and treat her like a little kid who can’t do anything and possibly take whatever it is that’s in her ears? 

How is she supposed to fight a fricking rock monster that’s 12 meters tall??

Especially with a fucking *yo-yo!* 

She flops back down onto her back and lets out a noise that’s a rough cross of a frustrated, overwhelmed, depressed sob/sigh. Of course, of course this is her life. She gets stuck with Chloe for 4 years straight and the gods decide that that’s not good enough, so they stick her with this. 

Maybe Chloe knocked her out and she’s in a coma and this is all just going to melt away and she can press charges against the bully and be done with her and move on in life?

But, she can hear the screaming of the people below, she knows that people are being hurt, really badly. No matter how badly she doesn’t want to, she has to go. If she was given this, if she was trusted with this, no matter how absolutely crazy that is, she needs to do this. 

“Okay... okay, so I have… I have super powers, and I have to fight a super powered monster.” She sighs again. She was just supposed to have the first day of school, not some... some super power mash up battle! 

She pulls the yo-yo from her waist and glares at it. This little thing is supposed to be her weapon. This little yo-yo that is only just barely large enough that she can’t fit her hand around it. This is going to keep her safe. Because that’s not unrealistic. 

Experimentally she lets it fall down and back to her hand a few times. She was never really good with yo-yos before, so she isn’t really all that hopeful about her fighting skills with it, but it feels really smooth and light, she can barely feel the weight.  

So far, it seems to be really easy to use. Maybe, maybe she could try that trick... around the world, was it? 

She lets it fall to the ground once more, the zip of the line oddly satisfying, and moves her arm back and forth, getting a feel for how it feels while in motion. Then, she tries to swing it up, but instead of flying into her hand, it’is sent flying out to the horizon, a metallic zip resounding from the yo-yo, getting quieter and quieter. 

For a second, Marinette just stares at it, then she hangs her head. Great, now how is she supposed to get it ba-

The string suddenly goes taught, as if the yo-yo has itself anchored around something. 

She just stands there, staring at the now taught string in awe, her jaw open. 

She reaches her other hand out to touch the string, and finds that it feels like a steel cable, strong and sturdy.

She has to try to get her yo-yo back, no point in wasting any more time. 

She hesitantly takes a step back and takes a deep breath before gently pulling on the strin- She’s pulled off her feet, her arm burning at the shoulder, wind whipping past her ears, her eyes closed, and a yelp being ripped from her throat before it’s lost to the wind

Silently, Marinette thinks back through everything she’s ever done wrong and vows to make it all better. After a moment of praying to all the gods she can think of, she opens her eyes and… finds all the buildings rushing by to be soothing. It’s all beautiful in its own right. Like watching the countryside fly by while on a plane. 

Marinette glances upwards again and whimpers as she realizes that she’s hurtling toward a stone pillar at speeds comparable to that of highway traffic. Panic rising through her entire being once more, Marinette attempts to twist herself out of the way, but soon realizes that that is completely useless as she is flung past the spot the yo-yo anchored itself to. But, by some strange miracle that is the universe’s sense of humor, the yo-yo unravels from the pillar, making it so that there is not a Marinette shaped pancake on the side of the pillar. A scream follows her as she flies through the air at speeds no teenager should ever be going without some way to be saved, the yo-yo trails behind like an overeager puppy. 

As she is flying through the air, the ground growing ever closer, her screaming never ceasing, she sees a small, moving black figure. In the blink of an eye, though to her it feels like it is all in slow motion, she’s colliding with this figure, toppling them both to the ground. 

They get halfway to the ground when something thin and strong wraps around them both and they’re snapped back upward, swinging side to side. Marinette finds herself looking into bright green eyes with cat-like pupils that have been blown as wide as a euro cent.

“Well, hey there! Nice of you to drop in!” 

Immediately, Marinette finds every aspect of this person annoying. The voice, the tone, the eyes, the hair, the cat ears, the *puns*. She rolls her eyes and moans. 

Wait, cat ears…

Of course, *of course* her partner ran with the whole animal theme. She just hopes that he isn’t a weirdo. 

But the puns make it hard to think he’s sane in any sort of way. 

She pulls her head back and looks over her partner, who looks to be a boy. 

From the looks of things, he seems to have a better sense of style than Tikki does. His suit is all black, judging from the subtle cracks it seems to be leather. There are boulbous guard like… *things* on his wrists and ankles, but she honestly thinks they serve more as attachable weights than anything else. And, on point with the animal theme, he’s got a belt that seems to be some sort of tail.

But… he’s got a bell on his chest, a large one at that. Who would, who would choose to wear that? Especially with the style of his suit! It clashes so badly.  

Shaking her head, she pushes her feelings aside. He’s her partner, she can’t be holding grudges. Especially ones based solely off of fashion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t do this on purpose.” 

She looks into her partner's eyes and is astounded to see that he… looks lost and confused and slightly uncomfortable with her looking him over, despite how he sounded a second before. But that look is gone in a flash, replaced with the smugness of knowing one is attractive. Her cheeks heat up. 

Not that he is attractive. Especially in that black leather and toned body. Not at all. Her cheeks are red because she’s embarrassed that he thinks she was doing *that*. 

Their swinging is slowing down, and this boy, who based off of what Tikki has told her, is most likely the Black Cat wielder. He raises- lowers?-- quirks an eyebrow. Er, well, his mask moves in a way that suggests he is quirking an eyebrow. It’s hard to tell when you’re nose to nose with someone and swinging and upside down, and their face is covered by a black mask. “While I’m flattered at you checking me out,-”

“I- I wasn’t- that’s not-”

“I’m afraid I have to ask you to rein in your rope please?”

Marinette’s face is as hot as the sun, and she’s sure that she could power her house with the heat, her hands splaying out at her sides as she frantically tries to stop her arms from flailing around. “It’s not- this- i wasn’t-” she cuts herself off as his other eyebrow is quirked. She sighs, defeated. She isn’t going to be going anywhere with this conversation.

Looking away from his all-too-piercing eyes, she maneuvers her hand around to try to grab at the yo-yo string. But in her flustered state, it takes her a few tries to get her fingers around the thin string. Once she has a firm grip, she tugs on it and promptly realizes that she didn’t think this all the way through and both her and her partner find themselves falling toward the ground. 

Marinette lands on her back, staring up at the sky, wondering what she did to the universe to deserve this treatment, all the while, the Black Cat wielder lands on all fours and stands up, dusting off his leather suit like he’s at some sort of high-end bachelor party. “I bet you’re the wielder of Creation that my kwami told me about! You know, my partner?” 

“Oh, ah, yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. Who- what’s your name?” she stutters out, silently cursing the way her mouth absolutely refuses to cooperate with her tongue, still laying on her back, staring at the yo-yo silently swinging like a pendulum. Counting down the seconds until she dies from embarrassment. Absently wondering how the yo-yo managed to wrap around the… silver pole, that wasn’t there before! It must be her partner’s doing. 

“Huh, oh, uhh.” He turns from her, a hand moving to his chin as he thinks with a near silent hum. This in turn gives her time to stand up and look more closely at him, absentmindedly trying to get her yo-yo back.  

He’s standing with perfect posture, as though he has a stiff back, and his hair is sticking up all over the place. His suit looks like leather, but it has a subtle hexagonal pattern to it, so it’s clearly not leather. He looks to have some sort of padding riveted to his forearms. 

He’s got some combat boots that are apparently as skin tight as the rest of his suit, and protruding from the boots are silver bulbs that resemble cat paws. 

The belt she had seen before is wrapped around his waist, and is swinging behind his feet in little circles, like it’s excited and curious but doesn’t want to show it and it’s having a hard time concealing it. In her opinion, the tail is entirely too long, if it were completely flat, the last few decimeters would be laying flat on the ground. 

His eyes are pure green, except for black, and his pupils have shrunk and look like cats pupils. A black domino mask frames his eyes, hiding his identity. Unlike hers, which only really covers her eyes and some of her forehead, his covers most of his forehead (or what you can see of his forehead) as well as the entirety of his nose aside from his nostrils.It only serves to make his eyes pop out more, makes them more unnerving. No human should have cat eyes. 

Did his alien-kwami being thing change his eyes or is it the mask or is this just some weird fettish?

The black cat ears on his head look to be made of the same material as his suit, and they twitch agitatedly every now and then, his eyes twitching subtly-

“Chat!” He says, almost shouts, cutting off her thoughts as he whips around to face her, earning a squeak of surprise from Marinette. He’s bouncing ever so slightly in his place, hands balled into fists, like a little kid. “Chat Noir. My name is Chat Noir” He puffs his chest out, putting his hands on his hips, a smug grin on his lips. 

He looks so proud of himself that she decides not to burst his bubble by commenting on how his name literally means “Black Cat”. All she can do is nod her head, and try to hold back her laughter while trying to untie her yo-yo from the metal pole she believes she toppled Chat from. 

What is she going to do with her life… 

“What’s yours?” He asks, leaning in towards her, teasing curiosity in his tone, his eyebrows wiggling. 

“Oh, uh... I’m Ma-” she gives the line another tug and it springs from the bar, unwinding with unnatural speed. She watches in muted horror as it hits him on the head cutting her off as he lets out a yelp of pain. His cat ears go flat as his hands fly to his head. 

“...Madly clumsy... I’m so clumsy...” she finishes as he furiously rubs the spot the yo-yo hit his head, crouched down low to the ground. 

“Are you okay?” Marinette asks, reaching a hand out hesitantly. 

“Yeah, I’m-“ He’s cut off from saying anything as an enraged roar rips through the air, accompanied by a building in the distance crumbling to the ground. Effectively startling them both, Chat Noir jumps a meter into the air, while Marinette’s arms flail as she jumps back. Soon after screams can be heard. 

Marinette turns to her cat-like partner again, and is concerned to see him covering his ears with tears in his eyes. 

“...Chat,” she starts cautiously, taking a step toward her partner. “Are-”

“S-seems we have momentarily forgotten the monster we are supposed to be fighting, no?” He cuts her off, his voice wavering while he struggles to stand upright. It looks like he’s in pain. 

She reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder but jerks her hand back when he flinches. Shit, she hurt him with the yo-yo and now she’s touched him when he’s in pain, she should have known he doesn’t want to be touched, she usually doesn’t like to be touched when she’s in pain oh gods he hates her and he doesn't want to be her partner anymore- She knew this was a bad idea, she should have given the earrings to Alya, she would know what to do, she wouldn’t hurt her new partner.

Chat shakes his head and smiles at her, though it feels forced. He takes a moment to steady himself before he jumps up to grab onto the bar above them. After a second, the bar disappears and he falls to the ground again, a small, 26 centimeter cylinder in his hand.

He looks at her and nods toward where the screams are coming from. “C’mon, lets go save the day.”  He looks better, but she can still see his eyes slightly shining, his ears are flat to his head and his tail is agitated. 

He points the cylinder to the ground and moves his thumb and then Chat is over the rooftops, a 2 meter long pole where the silver cylinder used to be.  

Leaving Marinette angry and confused, staring at her yo-yo. Why does he get a cool tool?  

A second later, his head pops back up over the rooftop, his head tilted to the side, ears flopping with his head. “You coming, Clumsy Girl?”

“Y-Yeah, just give me a second.” 

He nods and turns around. 

Marinette furrows her brow. His attitude gives her pause, he’s coming off as... as cocky and flippant and just... he rubs her the wrong way. But he’s hiding something, something is off about his actions, and by the gods she will find out what it is. 

Marinette brings her yo-yo up to look at. Such a small thing, not any feasible way to fight with it, except for like… flinging it at people and hoping she hits them? But she has crap aim. 

Such a stupid weapon, and yet it carries with it such large responsibility and challenges. “Trust yourself...” she mutters to herself. “Just trust yourself.” 

Reluctantly, she drops the yo-to to the ground, swinging it around to build momentum. As she’s staring at it, the red/pink blur it creates mesmerizes her... until another deafening roar meets her eardrums.

She shakes her head, and throws her arm out, slinging the yo-yo up and over the rooftops. “Just gotta trust yourself, Marinette.” She mutters once again before tugging on the string and is pulled through the air with another yelp.

[mentalhealthandgames]

‘OMORI’ analysis:

OMORI’ is an Indie psychological horror RPG that was released December 2020, 6 years after its Kickstarter became fully funded in 2014. It was developed by OMOCAT, LLC and published by OMOCAT, LLC and Playism. It is a long game, the average play time of the main story is calculated to be 21 hours and 9 minutes by ‘HowLongToBeat’ (HowLongToBeat, 2021), a website which polls players with different play styles to calculate the average lengths of games. It personally took me 49 hours to complete. This is to say that, as a long and complex story based game, Omori’s plot will be difficult to summarise in a neat and short format but I will try.

The game has two main routes and multiple endings. I played the normal route and got the good ending so that will be the story I summarise, which also seems to be the one most players also got during their first playthrough. 

The game starts with a short cutscene and then text appears on screen stating: “welcome to White Space. You have been living here for as long as you can remember.” The game then properly starts, revealing the main character in a large white space with a room in the centre. The room contains a laptop, a sketchbook and tissues. Around the room are a cat, a black lightbulb and a white door. If the player goes to the door it says: “a white door casts a faint shadow. What would you like to do?” The only choice is to do nothing. The sketchbook is filled with sinister drawings in red, white and black. The cat says “meow (waiting for something to happen?)”. The laptop allows you to either stare at the screen, look at the journal or log off. The journal (titled ‘Omori’s journal’) is filled with entries for days that are all listed as: “day ???” rather than with a date and each entry either consists of: “today, I spent time in White Space. Everything was okay” or “today I visited my friends. Everything was okay.” The tissue box is stated as “for wiping your sorrows away”. There is a sound and shake and then a text box appears telling the player “something fell nearby”. The player can then find a “shiny knife” by wandering around white space. After discovering the knife, if the player approaches the door they are now given the option to open it.

Once the door is opened it takes the player to Neighbor’s Room, a bright colourful room in sharp contrast to White Space. Neighbor’s Room is a part of a large area called Headspace which is only accessible through the white door in White Space. Most of the game takes place in Headspace, although not all of it, so assume the areas I discuss are in Headspace unless I tell you they are otherwise (White Space is not a part of Headspace). In Neighbor’s Room three of Omori’s friends are playing cards. They are Aubrey, Kel and Kel’s brother Hero. They are happy to see Omori, and after some bickering between Kel and Aubrey, decide to visit their friends Mari and Basil who have invited them for a picnic at the Playground. Saying yes to the invitation causes the friends to join the party and follow Omori. They leave Neighbor’s Room through a tree stump. There are four areas branching from the tree stump. One is blocked off by spiderwebs which Omori refuses to pass because he is scared of spiders, one is blocked of by the sea which Omori refuses to go into because he is scared of drowning and one is blocked off by a ladder which Omori refuses to climb because he is scared of heights. The only other option is to go to the Playground where they meet Basil and Mari who are waiting on a picnic blanket with Mari’s basket and some food. Mari’s picnic blanket, her basket and the food pop up throughout the game with the basket as a save point, the food as a way to replenish health or juice (which is basically mana, it powers skills and can be drained during fights) and the picnic blanket often allowing Omori and friends to have a picnic and take a break from whichever adventure they are on. During their friendly reunion and discussion, Basil shows them his photo album which is filled with pictures documenting their friendship. They then decide to visit Basil’s house except for Mari who opts to stay behind.

Before going to Basil’s house Omori and friends play hide and seek with other characters in the Playground where Omori finds everyone except Basil. Basil has been kidnapped by a character named Boss who is a childish character upset at being banned from the playground by the others who had deemed him too violent. After a fun short battle with Boss they then make their way to Basil’s house. I mentioned the fight with Boss as although it has no relevance to the plot it seemed to set the tone of exploring ‘Headspace’ for me. Colourful fun battles with Omori’s friends against characters who ultimately weren’t bad people. It felt hopeful and exciting even though I knew it couldn’t be the full story because Omori is a psychological horror game. Although I knew something would probably go wrong at some point, it still lulled me into a false sense of security. When Omori and his friends arrive at Basil’s house, Kel and Aubrey have another fight before they go inside which leads to them knocking over Basil and the photos falling out of his photo album. They go inside for Omori to put the photos back in place. After that seems done a photo falls out of the album and Basil picks it up. Basil seems not to recognise the photo, looking scared. A twisting shadow appears beneath him and then he says “n-no.. that can’t be… Mari” his eyes turning red. Then there is a flash of a greyscale photo and Omori is back in White Space, except this time the white door is missing. There is some new dialogue with Mewo the cat and a new drawing in the journal of a strange shape with one eye. However, without the door, the player is stuck, until they open the pocket menu. The pocket menu is where the player can access the party’s inventory, their skills and charms and the options menu. Previously there was a space only listed as ??? but at that moment it is replaced by red text saying “Stab”. Clicking on Stab it gives you the option to stab a member of the party, which, in White Space only consists of Omori himself. The player has no other way of progressing the game and has to click that option, which makes Omori to stab himself. This sudden dark turn shocked me. Although I had expected the game to turn dark eventually I didn’t think it would happen so early on and it felt wrong to have him stab himself.

After Omori has stabbed himself there is another short cutscene and then the player is shown a boy sleeping in his room and asked to choose his name. His default name is Sunny, so that is how I will refer to him. He looks almost exactly like Omori except he is in colour. He is the real version of Omori who lives in the real world and it turns out that Headspace and White Space are all in his head, a world he escapes to avoid a traumatic event in his past. Although they are the same person I will continue to refer to them as Omori and Sunny to separate when Sunny is in Headspace (or White Space) as Omori and when he is in the real world as Sunny. It turns out that in the real world Sunny is home alone as his mother is in the city, preparing their new home for them to move into in three days. It is also revealed that Omori’s friends in Headspace all exist in the real world as well. In the real world you can explore the top level of the house where Sunny’s bedroom is located, but if the player tries to go downstairs to the rest of the house Sunny will shake his head and not allow it. The only choice is to go back to bed where Sunny goes to sleep but then wakes up again hungry. A red light shines through the window making the area more sinister. This time trying to go down the stairs is allowed but the stairs seem to be infinitely long and some hands climb up the sides while others surround him and one photorealistic one chases him. When it catches up, the player is taken to a fight with a monstrous creature referred to as Something. The fight seems hopeless, Sunny’s attacks doing nothing to Something until a mysterious voice speaks to Sunny saying: “take a deep breath… don’t be afraid. It’s not as scary as you think.” The textbox then states: “you steady yourself… and remember how to Calm Down. Calm Down is then available as a skill (fights are won by using attacks and skills). Using the Calm Down skill shows an animation of Sunny breathing in and out and ends the fight, depositing Sunny at the bottom of the stairs. The player can then explore the rest of the house, two areas Sunny still refusing to go to, a room and an area outside, presumably the garden. The player can then take Sunny to the kitchen to pick up the Steak Knife and heat up and eat a steak. Then Sunny seems sick, the rooms wobbling as he walks around. After he goes to the upstairs bathroom and throws up, the rooms stop wobbling. Then there is a knock at the door and when Sunny approaches the door it shows Mari on the other side, still in the bright purple colours of Headspace. She tells Sunny she forgot her keys and asks him to open the door. If the player chooses to open the door there is a quick jumpscare of a ghost. If the player visits the bathroom to look in the mirror they will see the ghost behind Sunny. There is nothing else to do but to make Sunny go to bed and go to sleep. This time when he wakes up there is another cutscene saying “welcome to White Space. You have been living here for as long as you can remember” and Sunny is once again Omori, back in White Space. This time the white door is back but will not open and the Stab option is once again not available. Going to the laptop will open the Hangman menu which shows a list of computer keyboard keys along with vague descriptions of where to find them (they are all somewhere in Headspace). Out of all 26 keys there are 12 keys that are necessary to collected to unlock later parts of the game. It is impossible to collect all 26 in the normal route of the game. To be able to open the door the player has to find the map to Headspace in White Space, then it will allow the door to open when interacted with, once again taking Omori to Neighbor’s Room. Aubrey, Kel and Hero are relieved to see Omori and reveal that Basil is missing. Around this time Mari is also revealed to be Omori’s (and therefore also Sunny’s) sister. The main objective is to find Basil and this drives most of the story that takes part in Headspace. This involves a lot of exploring different areas of Headspace including an area accessed via the ladder that Sunny had previously been too afraid to use. Omori is encouraged by his friends to go up the ladder as they believe it may lead to Basil and this is clearly linked to Sunny defeating the Something on the stairs in the real world. This area is called Otherworld. After going on quests in the hopes that they will lead to Basil and fighting in a battle against the first proper boss, Space Boyfriend, some bloody footsteps will lead to a shadowy figure of Basil. Following shadow Basil takes Omori to a dark sinister space with some hints about Sunny’s dark past and his reason for creating and escaping to Headspace. He is chased by the version of Something the player will see the most, a version already depicted in Omori’s sketchbook in White Space, a strange shape with one eye. When caught by Something Omori wakes up once again in White Space where he once again has to stab himself to wake up in the Real World. This is the End of the Prologue and the start of the first chapter: Three Days Left. Each chapter counts down the days until Sunny is supposed to move out.

Every time Omori turns up at White Space and the white door is not present, the player has to make him stab himself in order to wake up as Sunny in the real world. That is the only way to access the real world. During each real world segments there is a battle with a different creature called Something related to each of Sunny’s fears. First heights, then spiders and finally drowning. Defeating these creatures in the real world always gives Sunny a new skill (these are: Calm Down, then Focus, then Persist) and allows Omori to later overcome, after his friends offer him support, the related fear in Headspace, allowing him to explore new areas that were previously blocked off (Otherworld, then Pyrefly Forest and finally Last Resort and Underwater Highway are only accessible by Omori and Mari swimming across the beach). I found this very interesting as it showed that Omori’s fears were limiting him and that he was able to overcome them, both for his friend (Basil) and with the support of his other friends (Aubrey, Kel and Hero). It implies that you should reach for help or support if you can and it reminded me a lot of my own anxiety which has limited me a lot in my past by making me scared to go to social events for example. Friendship is an important theme throughout Omori (in fact it is an important theme in all three games I chose to assess).

The first chapter opens in the real world with someone claiming to be Kel knocks on the door and the player has to choose whether to open it or not. This choice determines which route of the game the player goes down. The normal route starts when the player chooses to open the door. It is revealed to actually be Kel and not a jumpscare like Mari was and he wants to spend time with Sunny before he moves out. When Sunny explores the town with Kel he finds out that Aubrey has changed a lot, having dyed her hair pink and become the leader of what appears to be a group of bullies who often bully Basil, who is even more timid and scared than the version of him the player saw in Headspace (before he disappeared of course). Sunny and Kel rescue Basil by fighting against Aubrey who Sunny wins against by slashing her with his Steak Knife. Kel is shocked that Omori used a knife against Aubrey and takes it from him. This part made me realise how real the real world is meant to be and how Sunny had become incredibly detached from it by spending all his time in Headspace as Omori and becoming used to having to fight creatures and bosses with his Shiny Knife. Kel and Sunny then decide to retrieve Basil’s photo album which he says Aubrey stole from him. They find her in a church where she reveals to the player that Mari died four years prior, which is presumably the traumatic event that caused Sunny to retreat into Headspace, and is the reason the friend group drifted apart. Kel and Sunny then fight Aubrey again, drawing attention to Aubrey from the other churchgoers who criticise her, causing her to flee. Kel and Sunny then spot her throwing the photo album into the trash and take it to bring back to Basil. This photo album contains different pictures to the one in Headspace but is still filled with pictures showing their friendship, although all pictures containing Mari are missing, presumably taken by Aubrey. When they take the photo album back to Basil, who lives with his caretaker Polly they are invited to have dinner with them. Over dinner Kel mentions that Sunny is moving away and Basil runs to the bathroom. Following him to the bathroom shows him also seeing Something, which he says is behind Sunny. He clearly is also traumatised, his trauma most likely linked to Sunny’s trauma. Basil seems genuinely scared to be left alone but the only option for Sunny is to leave him alone. Then when Sunny goes home he faces the spider Something and goes to bed waking up in White Space.

I will not go into detail into the areas of Headspace that the party explore while looking for Basil as that would take a long time and doesn’t need to be discussed to explain the plot. The reason I went into so much detail for the Prologue is that it sets up the game. Most of the story in Headspace involves the friends looking for Basil, discovering new areas, skills, items and Bosses and always ending in Omori seeing bloody footprints leading to shadow Basil which usually leads to White Space, Omori stabbing himself and waking in the real world.

In the second chapter, Sunny starts off in the real world again. To briefly summarise, he and Kel find Basil being bullied by Aubrey and her current friends ending up with Aubrey accidentally pushing Basil into the water. Sunny has to face his fear of drowning to save Basil and faces up against another Something. Sunny and Basil are then saved by Hero who has returned from college for a short visit. They go to Kel and Hero’s house and look through the photo album and then Kel and Hero ask their parents if they can go to Sunny’s house for a sleepover. In the house Hero goes to the piano room – the room Sunny previously refused to enter. Sunny and Kel then join him there where the player finds out Mari used to play piano, and that her death was a suicide. The player knows from the photo album by now that Sunny also used to play the violin and that he and Mari were meant to play a concert together before she died. Kel, Hero and Sunny then set up a fort in Sunny’s room.

Then Omori wakes up completely alone in Neighbor’s Room in Headspace. Leaving Neighbor’s Room all the paths are blocked off by fog except for the one to the Playground. The Playground is entirely empty but if the player interacts with the mirror they can play hide and seek alone. This is a clear tonal shift as usually Headspace is very cheerful and full of life but with only Omori it becomes eerie. Then the path to the beach is accessible. At the end of the dock stands Mari. She encourages Omori to swim cross the ocean and get past his fear of drowning by promising to stay with him and saying, “steady your heartbeat… don’t be afraid. It’s not as scary as you think.” Crossing the ocean with Mari takes them across to some wooden dock paths. When they reach the end of the long wooden paths there are some curtains floating atop them. Mari turns to face Omori and says: “… Omori… it seems you have forgotten something important. Are you okay with that? I’m not too sure… you’ve seen this curtain once before. The last time we went to the lake. This is my stop though. I know I shouldn’t have come… It just gets a little lonely without everyone. It’s not my place to say anymore, but… I hope you’re still there… Sunny… I really miss you” Mari then says “goodbye, little brother.” Then Sunny enters a new area of Headspace which leads to a hotel called the Last Resort where he has to collect Kel, Aubrey and Hero who were all trapped in contracts to a boss named Mr Jawsum who they have to battle against. This is more like the previous areas of Headspace with lots of puns and colourful new characters. Then the friends travel down the Underwater Highway eventually following a recurring side character Sweetheart to an area of Headspace called The Abyss, during which they start to forget what Basil looks like. In The Abyss there are a lot of hints towards Sunny’s past and trauma. Eventually the friends end up meeting a whale called Humphrey who invites them to enter into his stomach. He is both a new area to explore and, after this exploration, a boss who threatens to actually eat them. Then, once Humphrey is defeated the friends go to find the last of the 12 keys which spells out “Welcome to Black Space” and then shows them Basils house. On the way to Basil’s house the trees and plants look dead. Entering the house there is a pit and entering the pit leads to a dark place which eventually leads to a black door which Omori opens. This introduces the player to Black Space, essentially the inverse of White Space which is surrounded by black doors.

If White Space is where Sunny locks himself away to forget all of his trauma, Black Space seems to be where he hides all of his repressed memories, fears and mental health problems. There is a key in the centre of the room. The key will open whichever of the doors the player chooses to enter first. Each room behind a black door is disturbing and broken looking, with bloody footprints leading to a key and then a red hand appearing and taking Omori back to Black Space. One Black Space room is a small room with a Butler who has the face of a cat while the cat Mewo (who the player knows by now was Mari’s cat) is strapped down to a table with knives next to her. Once Omori has entered the room, the door he used to enter disappears. When Omori interacts with the Butler he says “Mewo has been very, very bad” and then gives Omori a key. As there is no door to use the key on it seems the only choice is to approach Mewo. When Omori interacts with Mewo the text box asks: “do you want to cut open Mewo?” with the options yes and no. As there seemed to be no other option I reluctantly clicked yes, not wanting to see Mewo cut open even though I had become a bit used to the violence of the game after seeing Basil die in several of the other Black Space rooms. However, when the I clicked yes it lead to more text. “Mewo stares at you. She tilts her head out of curiosity.” And then the game asks again: “Do you want to cut open Mewo?” I clicked yes again. More text. “Mewo stares at you. Her eyes widen. She wants to go now.” And then, “do you want to cut open Mewo?” I clicked yes again, feeling more and more uncomfortable. “Mewo stares at you. She struggles to break free.” Again the choice, “do you want to cut open Mewo?” And once again I clicked yes. “Mewo stares at you. Her  eyes are filled with desperation.” I was asked again, “Do you want to cut open Mewo?” I clicked yes. “Mewo stares at you. She tries to scream, but there is no sound.” And again, “do you want to cut open Mewo?” I clicked yes again hoping it would eventually give me a different option but knowing it probably wouldn’t. “Mewo stares at you. She does not know what is happening.” Again the question, “do you want to cut open Mewo?” And finally she was dead, her red blood bright in the dark room and the text box “you cut open Mewo.” I thought finally, the red hand would appear and take Omori back to Black Space, but it didn’t. I waited a couple more seconds and then walked Omori around the small room. Nothing happened. I went to the Butler to see if he would help me leave after having committed such a terrible act but all he said was, “waiting for something to happen?” and I realised with growing dread that there had been no reason for cutting open Mewo. It had done nothing to help Omori leave the room. I opened the pocket menu and saw that the Stab option was back. I selected it and Omori stabbed himself and returned to Black Space. That was the moment for me where the game felt like an actual psychological horror. It had set out rules for Black Space. Open the door to a room, find the key for the next room and then the red hand would take Omori back to Black Space. I didn’t like the rules and the rooms unsettled me with how they took elements of the game I had grown accustomed to or invested in and then twisted them (like Watermelons hiding items, or Basil needing to be rescued) but I knew I had to follow them to progress. Except in that case, the rules weren’t the same and trying to follow them killed Mewo making me feel like a horrible person. When I watched a video titled “OMORI and Dissociative Amnesia”, part of a series of videos titled “Psych of Play” on YouTube by ‘Daryl Talks Games’ I saw the other side of that scenario. Daryl mentions how he “checked everything I could think to check to find a way not to kill this cat. Until I stumbled upon my menu and realised the Stab option was there and in that moment I was relieved. Finally something other than playing what feels like an actual nightmare I thought. And after I stabbed Omori and respawned in Black Space it sort of hit me like a truck that this game had just made killing myself seem like the best option. It seriously made me think that suicide was the easiest thing to do… given my circumstances. It took that unnatural feeling I had experienced so early in the game, and made me welcome it. Which I think paints a shockingly real picture of how suicide may seem to someone who is dealing with these astonishingly dark and sinister levels of anxiety” (Daryl Talks Games, 2021, 27:19). He had a moment where he felt that the game really revealed what it was like to be in Sunny’s shoes and made him emphasise with what Sunny’s suicidal thoughts probably felt like. And Sunny does seem to be suicidal as a result of his trauma and guilt. The bad ending leads to him killing himself by jumping off a building. This implies that part of the purpose of the game may be to show people who do not have mental health conditions what it is like to experience them. I think this would make sense since, as the disclaimer included in the game warns, ‘OMORI’ should not be played by people who are too close to the themes depicted and will find the game triggering. Much of the online community around Omori however talk about how it resonated with them or was important to them because of its mental health themes. The game has seemed to help a lot of people feel less alone with its exploration of mental health, although much of the community also emphasise that you have to be in a good state of mind when playing the game and recommend not playing it on bad days. I myself made sure I only played it on days I felt comfortable playing it and would alternate between playing the game for hours and then taking days off to decompress.

After finally escaping Black Space by killing Basil one more time (a lot of the Black Space rooms involve killing Basil by accident, but this last time seems to be on purpose) Sunny wakes up hearing music. Following the music takes the player to the piano room where Mari is sat playing the theme tune of the game. Mari talks about playing the piano and how she felt maybe she pushed Sunny to hard. She says: “We never did get to play at that last recital. Did you want to play it with me now?” Before Sunny can respond Hero bursts into the room. He tells Sunny to go back to sleep.

In the last part of the game the truth is revealed. Before their recital Sunny had thrown his violin down the stairs where it broke and had an argument with Mari, presumably over the pressure he felt to play the violin perfectly. He pushed her and she fell down the stairs and died. Basil found him and the two of them disguise her death as a suicide.

After this is revealed the player has the option to visit Basil who is convinced Sunny is possessed by Something and will start a fight between Sunny and Basil. Both Sunny and Basil will faint at the end of the fight. Sunny then finds his broken violin and is taken through memories that were shown in Basil’s photo album. After each new memory the violin will start to fix itself until it is complete. Then Sunny will appear at the recital where he is encouraged by his friends. He will put up his sheet music, start to play and then break down sobbing. Then Omori appears and the final battle is between Omori and Sunny. During this battle Omori speaks to Sunny telling him all the reasons he is a bad person and should be guilty. The phrases he used struck home and I become incredibly invested in the battle and trying to win as what he said sounded a lot like what the voices in my episodes of psychosis had told me. However Omori will ‘not succumb’ and eventually Sunny will be defeated and a game over page appears. It gave me the opportunity to continue so I took it. This time Sunny has the option to play. Choosing it will make Sunny take out his violin and he and Mari play their duet they practiced for their recital. This cutscene made me incredible emotional as it showed how much Sunny and Mari loved each other. The whole fight really showcases how Sunny felt, as Omori the representation of all his guilt and repressed memories, that his friends would be better off without him, but playing the violin gave him hope again and defeats Omori. They then hug in White Space and a white door appears. Going through it causes Sunny to wake up in the hospital with a bandage over one eye, injured in his fight against Basil. Leaving the hospital room will show shadow Basil and following him takes Sunny to Basil’s hospital room where Kel, Aubrey and Hero sit around Basil. Entering the room starts the Good Ending cutscene where Sunny decides to tell them about killing Mari, but the game cuts off before the player can see his friends reactions.

I know I have gone into a lot of depth explaining the plot and it might not have all been entirely necessary, the mental health aspects are central to the plot and discussing them felt like it would make no sense unless I described the plot first.

The game has a disclaimer both at the beginning of the game as well as on the game’s Steam page warning players that the game “contains depictions of depression, anxiety and suicide” which I think is very important and needed in the case of this game. The game is a (psychological) horror game, and horror games are quite well known in mental health gaming communities as misrepresenting mental health, mostly as portraying people with mental health conditions as violent and out of control, and mental health institutions as creepy and places to be feared and avoided. However, although the game uses Sunny’s mental health as a basis for the horror aspects it is not done in a way that belittles his struggles but rather just emphasises how difficult it is for him to cope with them. Although the cause of Sunny and Basil’s trauma is revealed to be a situation that players will most likely be unable to relate to, the way their depression and Sunny’s anxiety are portrayed still resonate with a lot of players as is evidenced in many Steam reviews. Omori and Basil are both quite sympathetic characters. They both seem to have depression but it is expressed in different ways – Omori completely withdrew into an imaginary world to avoid his trauma whereas Basil tried to put on a cheery façade but was actually deeply affected.

OMOCAT, the creator of Omori seems to be quite private and has not revealed much about the process or inspiration behind Omori and has not done any interviews, unlike the creators of the other games I have discussed, so it is difficult to tell whether she did any research on mental health when making the game or whether she experiences mental health conditions herself that may have assisted in making an accurate representation of mental health. However she did state in a blog post from the time of the Kickstarter that: “OMORI started out as a very personal project. He was a character that I created to help me cope with my problems during a confusing part of my life” (OMOCAT, 2014).

One of its main themes, one which features strongly in all three games, is the importance of friendship. I think this is an important message to have, for friends to support each other. Early on in the game if you buy good advice from the wise rock in the Vast Forest it tells Omori: “pain doesn’t last forever.” This is a major theme of the game and I think it is an important one. Although the Good Ending is ambiguous as the player will not know how Sunny’s friends will react, it gives hope that Sunny is no longer trapped by his trauma and he can finally try to move forward from it, and by telling them it seems he is also freeing Basil from his guilt as well. Overall I think it was a game that told a story that, although the ending reveal made Sunny’s actual situation less relatable and the game leaned to stereotypes at times, his experience of mental health still felt very real and resonated with a lot of players.

References:

OMOCAT (2014) OMORI Kickstarter Update. Available at:

https://www.omocat-blog.com/post/85490697570/from-illustration-to-video-game-omori-kickstarter (accessed at: 23 February 2021)

https://youtu.be/rUDGlEWa4sE (accessed at: 11 April 2021)

[photiniainsummer]

A Little Audience Participation Can Tip the Scales (1/?): The Lede

Genre: GenFic - Action, Mystery, Humor

Rating: Teen and Up

Story Summary: There’s a strange group living at the old Markiplier Manor.

They’re the villains of their tales, they’re looking for information, and they need your help putting Mark’s scattered egos back together to get their lives back.

And stop Mark and the Entity breaking reality.

Small goals.

(Second Person POV, vaguely fem-coded Reader)

Chapter Summary: The one where your cheeky coworker convinces you to check out the old Markiplier Manor with him.

Word Count: 5372

Author's Note: Decided to cross-post from my Ao3! The next three chapters are already up, and I try to post every Tuesday. :3

Interested?

Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30510852/chapters/75244647

The Lede

You watch amusedly from your desk as Jonah, your coworker-slash-mentor and partner in crime, comes bustling through the door to the reporters’ bullpen. He’s late, as usual, his half-open messenger bag slung across his rumpled self. Scribbled-on papers and even his laptop haphazardly jut out from the bag as he struggles to balance a breakfast sandwich on his thermos. Sometimes, all he had to do was exist to make you nervous. He starts to make his way across to you and your neighboring desks but is intercepted by the resident office mom for what she calls a “good old fashioned talking-to.” She’s always trying to tenderly bully him into being a better example for the junior reporters like yourself, although you have to wonder why she keeps it up despite its clearly limited efficacy. It’s not even that Jonah’s particularly stubborn - he’s just one of those people who, no matter how early he leaves home or how hard he tries, something just so happens to make him late. You can see how it would seem intentional, but you know Jonah’s too honest and, frankly, not creative enough to come up with the plethora of scenarios that conspire against him. You’ve just learned to tell Jonah to show up at least half an hour before you actually want him to.

Eleanor, however, is committed to whipping Jonah into shape. In the midst of her chiding, Jonah catches your gaze and pulls an awful face, startling a laugh out of you. Eleanor, of course, seizes on this and switches to berating him about listening when spoken to as you try to pull your attention back to scanning the morning news. He really knows how to dig himself in deeper, you think, chewing your lip to keep from laughing at the memory of his terrible expression.

“Don’t even start,” Jonah grumbles when he finally extracts himself from Eleanor’s chastising, sliding into his desk across from you. “You heard it, she already ran the full gamut this morning.” You give him your best shocked look.

“Who, me? No idea what you’re talking about,” you reply coolly, punctuating your tease by exaggeratedly returning to your work and clattering at your keyboard. “I was just going to ask how your morning went.” Jonah groans, but his lips tug upward in his typical crooked smile. At least he’d managed to shave without cutting himself this morning, you note.

“Ugh. Just because you were born able to wake up five minutes before your alarm doesn’t mean the rest of us were. Besides, I was up listening to the scanner.” Now it’s your turn to groan.

“That thing again? It’s barely legal for you to have one here, even Walker said as much.” Your boss and head editor had given Jonah his patented disapproving brow-furrow and pressed-lip combo when it had come up in conversation, but he hadn’t explicitly told the crime reporter to get rid of it, either. Jonah argued it kept him ahead of the curve on his beat, but with as many connections as he had, you suspected he used it more for the thrill of it than bettering his job performance. “What was so interesting last night, anyway? Any high-speed chases?”

“Not in our limits, unfortunately.” Jonah chuckles at your unamused expression, popping the lid on his thermos. “Kidding, come on. No, it was quiet last night, except… well.” He pauses, something changing in his expression. It’s enough to pull your attention away from your inbox. Jonah’s a goofball, but he’s a damn good reporter with a mind like a whip. He has to be, to be head of the crime division. So you take it seriously when he casts his eyes around the office before leaning in conspiratorially. His voice is hushed as he murmurs to you. “Someone called in that they saw a suspicious person skulking around the old Markiplier Manor.”

You immediately lose interest. That was news to him? The Manor had been abandoned as long as you had been alive, long since off the market after being passed from renovator to developer for most of its nearing-hundred year existence. Even with calls for it to be turned into some kind of museum, it had never been able to shake its grisly past or tendency for the strange. You’d heard the stories of the few historic maintenance crews dealing with randomly exploding lightbulbs and eerie spectres, disembodied voices and footsteps - but that’s all they were, stories. Stories from a creepy, old, run-down house on the edge of town. It was a hotspot for teenagers wanting to prove their guts - hell, you had even gone with a couple of friends back in high school, although you had been busted by a roving patrol car. You sigh at the memory of just how badly your mom had berated you about breaking curfew and fix Jonah with a disappointed look. He was immature at the worst of times, but you thought he’d at least be able to tell a lead from normal shenanigans. “That was exciting enough to make you late for the third time this week? You’re supposed to be a senior reporter around here, you know.” Jonah huffs, leaning forward on his desk and closer to you. He seems intent, despite your skepticism.

“Well, if you’d let me finish explaining, then you might know why such an on-time and dedicated individual such as yours truly would have let the time slip away from him,” he replies, sarcasm curling his tone. A quip rises on your tongue that he was the one drawing it out so much, but Jonah has a certain glint in his eyes. Something had his attention. You finally turn from your computer monitor and to face him, only slightly exasperated.

“Okay, okay. Listening.”

The man grins slightly and shifts his weight further forward on his elbows, keeping his voice down as he continues. “All right, so, PD gets this call from a neighbor that they saw someone wandering around on the property, yeah? They send an officer to check it out - of course, nobody’s around by the time he shows up. But the weird thing is… they found all the lights on inside.”

You blink, sure you missed something. “Like. Shop lights, right? There’s some construction crew working on it, or… they called in an appraiser and they forgot to turn them off.” Jonah shakes his head.

“Nope. Light fixtures. Every single one with a bulb in was blazing. And no crews or anything, I called the agency that owns the place. The last pro they had in there was over four years ago. There’s a security guard that checks it out regularly, but the power’s been off for years.”

You furrow your brow and sit in thoughtful silence for a moment, hunched and staring at your desk as you puzzle over the details. Jonah watches you intently while you think, taking the chance to work on his massive thermos of coffee, so strong you could smell it across your desks. He’d done this since you’d joined the paper, assuming the role of your mentor, at least informally. He would offer you the details of a story or curious anecdote that he’d started with and watch your mind run. You had always appreciated the exercise - it kept you sharp in dealing with local politics and its various mealy-mouthed players - and he appreciated getting a second pair of eyes on the issue at hand. Sometimes you picked up on things he hadn’t, ran rabbits he might not have. Working the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you roll the details over in your mind, hunting for another explanation as Jonah hunted for the bottom of his thermos. Something didn’t sit right with you about the details, but what?

Suddenly, you land on it, sitting up suddenly and turning to Jonah, who lifts his eyebrows at you. “The neighbor that made the call, did they mention the lights, or just someone wandering around outside?” His face breaks into a pleased smile, eyes dancing with the curiosity of the problem before the two of you.

“Nice catch. They didn’t mention the lights at all, just the trespasser.”

“So the lights got turned on between the neighbor making the call and the officer showing up.” Jonah’s smile turns into a real grin, cheeks split with it.

“Exactly. But why?” The other reporter leans back in his chair with a sigh. “That’s what kept me up, and made me late. Again.” He sips his coffee idly. “And it’s why I’m going to check it out for myself tonight.”

“What?” Jonah jumps in his chair with the volume of your exclaimation, quickly shushing you as he looks around in a panic. He can’t be serious, you think, but lower your voice. What is he being so low-key about? “No, Jonah, you absolutely can not go poking around some abandoned house.” He settles somewhat, content that nobody cast a glance your way after your outburst. Most of your colleagues are already out on assignments, anyway, given the later hour. But he’s determined, unfazed by your forbiddance.

“And why not? I’m just following a lead.” You open your mouth to protest further, but he interrupts. “Oh, come on, you aren’t a little curious to see what’s going on? What’s the harm, the cops just checked it out, it’s totally safe.” That gleeful glint is back in his eyes. How it thrills and infuriates you in equal measure.

“Seriously? Someone could be squatting there, and the cops just didn’t find them. Someone tapping a neighbor’s powerline and clearly not in their right mind, if they’re turning every light on in the place. Besides, even if it is empty, they could have a patrol posted on it now.” Jonah’s excitement begins to fade in the face of your barrage of facts. “If that agency still owns it, then it’s private, posted property, and you’d be actively breaking the law.” He sucks his teeth and slumps back in his chair, somewhat defeated.

“You’re no fun. Where’s your reporter’s spirit, your drive!” You turn back to your computer, shaking your head as you try to refocus on catching up with your inbox.

“Getting arrested for trespassing and/or breaking and entering isn’t ‘reporter’s spirit,’ Jo. You’re not Nancy Drew, you can’t just start poking your nose around abandoned buildings. It’s not safe.”

Jonah pauses for a moment, then gets an annoyingly knowing grin on his face. He leans forward again, good humor returning. “Ohhhh, so you’re scared is what I’m hearing.”

You huff in exasperation. “Literally how is that the conclusion you’re drawing from what I just said? I told you--”

“You’re the one who said ‘safe’! That means you think it might be dangerous and you’re scared.”

“Yeah, for your job and general well-being. Seriously, Jonah, I’m not scared of some abandoned house. Just because a couple of people happened to get murdered there--”

“Ah ah ah, they only found one body. The Mayor and the District Attorney were missing, assumed dead. Same for the killer.”

“Okay, Mr. Nitpicky. You you that’s even less scary, right? But, regardless, none of that makes the place inherently dangerous or scary. Hospitals aren’t scary, at least not like that, and people die there all the time.”

Jonah doesn’t immediately reply, giving you the opportunity to hammer out a reply to a scheduling issue and push your lunch meeting with the Senator back an hour. How did her assistant manage to double book her? you wonder as your reply zooms off. When you get the chance to look back to your coworker, he has a wry, sneaky little smile on his face. “What?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” You shake your head. He really isn’t giving this up. “Fine, if you’re soooo not scared, then I dare you to come check it out with me tonight.”

“Absolutely not, did you forget about the illegal part? We aren’t kids, this isn’t just messing around after school. It could look bad for the paper, and you know Walker as well as I do - there’s no second chances.”

Jonah pauses. Mulling over your words, the threat of being fired. Then, “I’ll buy you dinner from that new Japanese place uptown.”

Visions of high-end sushi dance enticingly in your mind. Your stomach threatens to growl, with it being the end of the month and your bank account looking dismally light. Jonah always knows how to hook you, damn him. It doesn’t help that you knew from that look on his face that he knew you were already burning up inside with curiosity. The two of you were peas in a pod, and he had seen that since your first day at the paper. It was exactly why he’d gotten you set up as his desk neighbor, why he’d taken it upon himself to play mentor for you, probably why he was telling you any of this in the first place, despite how low-profile he clearly wanted to stay. You were going to be at that Manor tonight as soon as Jonah had heard the cop call in over the scanner. You sigh quietly through your nose, letting the decision sink in before you make it official.

“Fine. What time?” you ask, not looking away from your screen. Despite trying to ignore him, you could still see Jonah’s joyous fist-pump out of the corner of your eye.

What’s the harm in a little urban exploring, anyway? At least I’ll be there to keep Jonah from going too far with it, you muse to yourself, already planning your celebratory dinner.

What’s the worst that could happen?

---

Even after three years of working closely with Jonah Scott, you still managed to underestimate just how late he could be. You had agreed to meet at the foot of the Manor’s drive at Jonah-time 5:30, 6 sharp for normal people. However, it’s already pushing half-past with no apology text or update to speak of from the crime reporter. Wasn’t this his stupid plan? you mentally grumble, fruitlessly checking your phone again. At this point, your text conversation was fully one-sided, your messages over the last thirty-ish minutes taking up the entirety of your screen. With a defeated sigh, you flick the app shut and slide over to your ridesharing app. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to stick around, and with the sun setting quickly, like hell you’re going to willingly hang around the abandoned Manor longer than you have to.

As you scan available drivers, you consider just how to make Jonah pay for standing you up. You mentally upgrade your promised sushi meal straight into a sushi boat, and although you know you don’t have the heart to commit to such an egregious attack on his wallet, the thought brings a smile to your face. At the very least, you decide to charge him the cost of your rides to and from the massive property - the place is barely in the city limits, not to mention situated up a long road that only led into an almost equally long driveway. Your already light bank account was begging for mercy as you select a nearby driver. Of course it was surge pricing, to boot. The estimated ride cost is enough to make you pause and hope beyond hope that Jonah and his old jalopy were right around the corner. Maybe his phone had just died. Or maybe he was being a particularly safe driver and ignoring his texts. You decide to give it another couple of minutes, if just to make sure you had no other option but to pay through the nose for a ride home. With a sigh, you turn back towards the Manor itself, its exposed-rock exterior catching the burning sunset.

It doesn’t even look that creepy. Really, with the warmth of the setting sun, it almost looks inhabited, just in limbo between relying on daylight and its residents needing to turn the lights on for the evening. The grounds are well-maintained, too, likely thanks to a strict HOA. You figure that if neighbors are paying enough attention to report people wandering around the property despite how spaced out the houses are here, there’s likely a resident weed-measurer who complains as soon as the yard breaches an acceptable length.

That being said, the building itself barely looks like a home. Although you had brushed up on its appearance and floorplan online, images couldn’t prepare you for just how much it really looks like a castle. You knew its creator, Mark Iplier, had been a fabulously wealthy actor back in the day, building his first house to match, but good lord. There’s still such a thing as too much. It has turrets, for crying out loud. Not to mention Google Earth showed that the massive patio that wrapped around practically the entirety of the backside of the building was home to some kind of natural waterfall-looking pool and a life-sized chessboard. It had been impressive online, but in real life, the place is enormous to the point of ridiculousness.

I guess it matches its creator, then, you muse, considering what you had gleaned from a scan of a few biographical entries earlier in the day. He was a local legend, to be sure, but you had never learned more about him than surface stuff and the details of the murder case that had basically ended his career. Before all that, though, Mark had been the embodiment of every stereotype you could muster about early 20th century new-money creatives -- massive personalities with a penchant for equally massive parties. As beloved as he had been on stage and film, he’d been even more so in social circles, known for all-night ragers with massive multisection big bands, ample liquor even in the height of Prohibition, and occasionally the exotic animal or two. Famously, Mark had once arrived at a costume party on the back of an elephant, led by four retainers and dressed like a prince, swathed in silks.

In that context, the house seemed to make a bit more sense, although it had clearly seen better days. The paint on wrought-iron fence surrounding the grounds needs a fresh coat, peeled off in places; you can see a few shutters hanging lopsidedly from their hinges. It’s almost sad, the longer you look at it, especially knowing the revelry it had once hosted. Mark’s own life mirrored the place, as cliche as it was. After the incident, Mark never seemed able to recover. Even the few pictures you had found of him afterwards looked different - he seemed thinner, his eyes haunted, his smile forced. He’d appeared in a handful of films after the fact, but something had changed in him, and he ended up becoming somewhat of a recluse until his death. It was horribly tragic, really. Just trying to put yourself in his shoes had your throat tightening up a bit. Your childhood friend goes off the deep end and goes on a rampage out of nowhere with the rest of your closest friends as casualties - a freak incident right as you’re hitting your stride--

Suddenly, your phone breaks out into its ringtone, startling you out of your empathetic wallowing. You fumble the device in your hand just to keep a grip on it, cursing as you manage to maintain your hold. You check the screen - a local number, but you don’t recognize it. You answer anyway, crossing your fingers it’s not just a spoof call. “Hello?”

Jonah’s voice crackles through on the other end. “Kid! Hey, I’m so sorry-”

“You better have a damn good explanation lined up, Scott,” you snap, interrupting. “Where the hell are you?”

“God, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to get home for the last hour to call you. My car practically blew up in my face on my way home from work, and it must have been something electrical because my phone was connected and charging and got totally fried. It was kind of working for a second, but I just had to give up and come home in a taxi. I’m having to use an emergency landline, I can’t believe the damn thing even works.” The annoyance drains from your body, his tone so disappointed and clearly stressed that you can’t keep a hold on your frustration.

“Oh, Jo. I’m sorry. Are you okay, though? It didn’t shock you or anything, right?”

“No, thank god, no hospital bills on top of everything else. Look, I’m really sorry. Are you still out there?”

“Yeah, I was just about to get a ride home when you called.”

“Oh, awesome, so have you gone in?!” You scoff out of reflex, stunned at his emotional 180. If he was here, you’d give him a good pop on the head.

“What? No, Jonah, of course I didn’t go in! This was your plan, I was waiting on you to roll your goofy ass up this stupid hill. You’re lucky this place is out of the way, I bet the neighborhood association would have called the cops on me by now if the houses were any closer,” you grump down the line. Jonah’s laugh crackles on the other end.

“Lucky’s my middle name, especially today, right? Look, I know I already owe you big, but can’t you just slip in and take a look around? Like hell I’m gonna be able to afford getting a ride out there any time soon, and you’re already there… Just see if the door’s unlocked or something, look in some windows?” He’s really begging, now, and his tone melts your resolve. How does he do that every time? You sigh heavily, crossing your arms and peering up at the manor. Its large, dark windows stand out against the lighter stone as the sunlight truly begins to fade. They feel like eyes, looking down at you from the top of the hill. It sends a shiver up your spine.

“Jonah, you know I value you as a dear friend and colleague, but... Fine, look, this place is creepy, I admit it, I’m a chicken, I’m scared of the creepy murder house, can’t we just come back some other time when we’re a we and not just a me?” Although your rushed confession is half joking, it’s obvious Jonah isn’t fully engaged. He only gives a short laugh in response before you hear him shift the phone a bit, pausing. Thinking. It feels like an age before he speaks again, the crickets beginning their evening song in the interim.

Then, “Look, Vivian, I. I haven’t been straight-up with you. Yeah, the scanner was going off last night, but the truth is I’ve... been thinking about that place for months. Remember that puff piece about Mark, the retrospective Devontae put up a couple months ago?”

You shift your weight, turning away from the manor and its looming walls to focus on your friend’s voice. His tone had seriously shifted. This is Real Talk time. “Yeah, sure. The board killed it. It was weird, especially since it was his death-iversary, right? But… I dunno, Jo, that’s not enough to--”

“I talked with my friends at the Star, their board nixed a retrospective, too. So did the Inquirer, the Daily, and the Herald. Not to mention anything having to do with Mark for at least the last couple of years. I checked Walker’s record cabinet, too. Anything mentioning Mark, that night, his life after… hell, even the Manor, everything is heavily edited. Anything even adjacently referencing his existence is lucky if his name doesn’t get cut.”

You draw up short. A bit of concrete is loose underneath your feet, rocking slightly with you as you shift your weight from foot to foot. What is he getting at? “I mean. Yeah, okay, that’s pretty weird, but maybe… I dunno, maybe the board doesn’t want to bring up a dark moment like that, or more likely, they don’t wanna openly admit the town hasn’t been able to get their shit together about the Manor and make it into something other than an eyesore all this time later. You know at least half of them take board work as their victory lap after a glorious public service career,” you offer, laying it on thick. Jonah hums, considering it.

“Could be. But still, kind of a personal bent for an editorial board to take, no? Even for them. And it’s not just our board, it’s consistent across the papers.”

“But nothing that awful happened to warrant this. I mean, sure, his buddy killed a detective and presumably a couple of friends in his house, that’s sad, but… Mark wasn’t involved. He didn’t do anything, at least, nothing bad enough to make everyone decide it’d be better if he just didn’t exist.”

“Nothing that we know about,” he offers, quieter. Your blood chills.

“...you think something else happened? Something worse?” Jonah is silent for a moment. His next words are careful.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I think what happened at the Manor has more to do with Mark than he wanted people to think, more than reports let on. And that, whatever really happened, it’s something bad enough that even now, this long after everything and even him passing over two decades ago, someone’s keen to keep it covered up.”

You’re quiet, mind reeling. You were a local, you knew as well as anyone that all of this stuff is treated more like an urban legend than true local history. It’s almost larger than life, at this point; you had heard the story told and retold a thousand times over until the telling itself was smooth and simple. Mark, fresh off a successful play’s run, had invited over his old university buddies for a night of good old fashioned revelry and reconciliation after years of petty disagreements had crescendoed with his wife cheating on him with his oldest friend, the Colonel WIlliam J. Barnum. However, little was resolved, and adding alcohol to the mix turned out to be deadly. Tensions between the group came to a head the next day, and the Colonel snapped. His rampage ended in the death of the city’s leading detective and, presumably, two of the original group’s members, although their bodies were never found, seemingly dumped in the woods behind the Manor. The Colonel’s attempt to cover up his crime left the others a chance to escape and alert the police, but the killer, too, disappeared, and was never heard from again.

It feels like a well-worn path in your mind. Nobody ever questioned Mark’s innocence in everything - it was assumed. He had just been there, equally terrorized by the killer as the other victims. But exact details had never emerged to the public, and Mark had been reticent to ever speak of things. The missing guests, too, were just so easily presumed dead at the hands of their friend, their mysterious disappearances more like eerie window-dressing on a ghost story than a suspicious hole in an otherwise tightly-woven story.

Maybe not so tightly, since now that you can see the holes, it’s hard to ignore them.

The tender inside of your cheek aches from your teeth worrying it, bitten raw. You swallow your thoughts for a moment, trying to return to the conversation. Jonah’s been equally quiet, letting you puzzle. “...and you think the Manor has some clue to that? To what might have… really happened?”

“...that’s my working theory. Mark left the place so quickly after everything, it’s still full of his stuff. He didn’t want anything to do with it, wanted to start fresh. Technically, the local historical society owns it all, now, but you know what their funding is like, so it’s all just sitting around. I figure, in his rush, he left something behind that can give us an idea of what we’re missing. Besides, reports of weird stuff happening there has been on an uptick.” You suck your teeth, feeling some of the edge of the conspiracy theory-laiden tension fade.

“Massive media blackout, I can run with. But, what, you think there are ghosts that have something to do with it?”

Jonah groans. “I never said ghosts, specifically, but… come on, kid, you have to admit it’s weird.”

“It’s practically a hundred-year old house, of course it’s weird - the wires are probably all way out of code and nobody’s been in the place in ages.”

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s a stretch,” he admits, retreating from the point. “I’m just looking for patterns. We don’t have a lot to go on, in terms of hard information. Which is why getting in there is so important.” He’s turning toward pleading again. “Please, kid, it’d mean the damn world to me if you’d just take a look around. I’ve got no idea when I’ll be able to get out there myself. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” You know he wouldn’t, he’s always been considerate of your time and comfort. Really, Jonah is one of the best friends you’ve had, coworker element aside. It makes it horribly hard to say no to him. Which is why whatever reservations you’re still holding on to cave in the face of his honesty.

“...okay. I’ll go poke around. But you seriously, seriously owe me for this one.” You can practically hear Jonah smile on the other end.

“Seriously, I do. Thank you, kid, honestly.” He sounds relieved, taking a steadying breath. Was he really so worried you’d say no? “And take pictures if you see anything!” he quickly adds.

“Only if you call the cops if I don’t call you back in an hour. If there’s someone in there, Jonah, I--”

“Hey, hey, I promise. I’ll stay right by the phone. Cross my heart.”

You sigh quietly to yourself. “All right, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, kid, and seriously. Thank you.” He sounds painfully sincere. You can’t summon up the spite to gripe at him anymore, so you let yourself be equally honest.

“I’ve got you, Jo. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know. Okay, I’m gonna let you go. Just be careful.”

“I will be.”

Then the line goes dead and your phone beeps dully before returning to your ridesharing app. You stare at it for a second, before you swipe up and close the app completely. No way you were going to chicken out now. Apart from Jonah’s confession, your mind was on fire. Sure, you could go home and just apologize to Jonah, but you know you’d be awake all night, tossing and trying to turn over the truth thanks to your limited information but unlimited curiosity. It wasn’t just his skepticism polluting your mind, either, there was definitely something missing from the narrative. Almost like the incident was too well-put-together, the reports from back then too careful with their words, what they didn’t say. Real crimes were messy because people were messy - their memories faulty, their behavior unpredictable and sloppy, even more so when under duress. But everything about the case and its retelling was clean. Neat.

It might as well have been wrapped up with a bow.

With nothing else between you and the Manor besides the peeling gate, you turn back to face its imposing exterior. Although the house had glowed softly in the setting sun, the rock reflecting the light so warmly, it had faded to a soft gray in the twilight. The windows are obviously dark and empty, now, their size exaggerated by the deepening of shadows as the sun slipped behind the horizon. You stare up at them, watching them back through the locked front gate from your tottering bit of pavement. You take another breath in, out. Then you square your shoulders and step up to the gate.

“It’s just a creepy old house,” you mutter, worming yourself between the wide bars. “Nobody inside, just a weird… big house. ” Nonetheless, a shiver goes down your spine when you’re through and the lawn stretches out before you and up to the front door. You crane your neck towards the nearest neighbor, but their windows were dark, too.

So why does it feel like someone’s watching you?

[saint-eridell]

TdMo fluff/smut drabble

Oh boy. First post on the new blog.

This is loosely based on the yakuza AU @the-angriestpineapple​, @deadassqueeraf​ and I have been writing. It’ll definitely get expanded at some point, but someone on our main server decided to poke my brain and this fell out. Unbeta’d, we die like men (which means it’ll take forever to get to my AO3, womp womp).

4.1k; Yakuza AU. Shouto and Momo are married, all characters are in their mid-twenties. Story building, lots of fluff, smut toward the end. No major content warnings.

---

It was fairly common for Shouto to wake up for work incredibly early in the morning. His office didn’t technically open until eight, but he was sometimes out the front door at least an hour and a half before that to account for surprise traffic and coffee lines. The unusual part was Shouto waking up incredibly early for two, nearly three weeks straight: every morning, seven days a week, the same chime playing before the sun had even remotely touched the bedroom curtains.

By the end of the third week Momo’s patience had worn down to a wispy sliver pulled taught as a piano string. She’d anticipated her own irritation upon going to sleep the night prior, but hearing Shouto’s alarm go off just before five in the morning pulled what remained of her patience until it snapped with a force that surprised her even in her post-sleep delirium. Her eyelids flew open as she felt Shouto roll over behind her, grunting while he fumbled for his phone to turn off the alarm. She didn’t move with him or indicate she was awake, instead letting him sit up and stretch himself awake in silence as she stared at the dark wall across from her side of the bed.

The mattress dipped soundlessly behind her as Shouto leaned into her to press a tender peck to her cheek, her eyes only barely closing before he leaned into view of her features. He hovered for a moment before a warm fingertip brushed a lock of dark hair off her temple and behind her ear. “I love you,” he whispered, soft and reverent like he never was anywhere else, before sliding away with practiced grace, leaving Momo alone in the bed as he stumped off to take a shower and ready himself for the day.

She grinned into her pillow. Despite the obtuse block of wood that Shouto could be, his tender side was something Momo would never be over and she was a terribly lucky woman for having to all to herself. She loved him beyond the point of finding words to describe it.

Once Shouto left the bedroom, she slowly lurched out of the bed and set herself into motion. She didn’t have to be awake that early on a day off, but she’d resolved the moment her eyes opened that she was going to get a break from that goddamn alarm, no matter what it took. The first step was getting herself ready - a drawn out shower to ensure Shouto had already left the house when she got out, the expensive hair serum she saved for big occasions, clean makeup with a shiny cherry lip and a hint of a sharp jet-black wing. Her hair was blow-dried into a long, flat sheet that hung against the back of the tight red cardigan she plucked from a dresser drawer, along with a dark gray tweed skirt that danced around her hips in loose petal-shaped pleats.

With everything seemingly in place, Momo gave herself a once-over in the floor length mirror that hung next to her dresser. She turned sideways, tracing the curve of her backside where it blotted out a hill of light emanating from her bedside table. Her hands smoothed over the skirt’s intricately woven tweed, the two silver rings on her hand catching the dim light against the dark contrast of the skirt fabric. Her smile returned, soft and genuine. He was caught in that same work rut again. She had do something drastic to break the cycle, and this seemed drastic enough to her.

“Damn, you look good,” she muttered to herself for an extra confidence boost before heading off for the kitchen to caffeinate for the day. Mina was going to be so proud of her.

Lunch was an easy affair to sort. They’d prepared daytime meals ahead of time, a habit Shouto had gotten her into that quickly became a staple of the very limited time they got to spend with each other during the week. That day’s boxes got tucked into a small lunch box lined with cold packs (of course he’d forgotten to grab his lunch again; Momo was going to smack him across the side of the head) along with two melon sodas before she set off for her car. Dinner was already in the slow cooker, the house was immaculate to a level that had to make him chill out, and Momo’s assistant was ready to cover her “sick leave” for up to a couple of days by the time she set off for his office. Perfect. So far, everything was going to plan.

Shouto’s office sat in the middle of a sleek street near the city’s financial district. The block was lined with shiny black mirror glass on both sides, the sidewalk below dotted with an equal mix of suit-clad businessfolk and minimum wage workers husting to their next bus stop. Momo navigated through them to park underneath Shouto’s office building before making her way into the parking level’s elevator, her heels clinking against the concrete that surrounded her until she was encased in steel.

Shouto’s suite occupied the entire top floor of the building. Momo tapped the last button on the panel just inside the lift’s sliding door and waited patiently as it lurched upward, not stopping until she’d arrived at the very top. She snorted quietly. Had he rigged the panel to go directly to his floor when prompted?

His receptionist - Ayame, right - was busy hammering away at her keyboard when Mono sauntered into the waiting area. Her tall boot heels heralded her arrival in staccato taps against the white marble floor, loud enough to get Ayame’s attention, who popped up with a surprised gasp before jolting to her feet. “Ahh, sorry Mrs. To-”

“Momo, please,” she cut in before the receptionist could finish. “I’m not here on official business.” She bumped her hip against the lunch box held at her side. “Just dropping off lunch. Making sure he hasn’t keeled over yet. The usual.”

Ayame sighed in relief, a hand clutched to her chest. “Oh thank goodness,” she breathed. “I thought I’d missed a meeting reminder or something.”

Momo frowned slightly. The poor thing looked like she was about to keel over herself. Her eyes were half-mooned with pale gray circles that pressed too hard into her skin for someone fresh out of college. She’d been working just as hard as Shouto, then. Momo would have to talk to him about remembering that not everyone is a semi-human work machine. For now… “Why don’t you take a couple hours for lunch?” she said softly, offering Ayame an encouraging smile. “Grab some coffee and take a walk around the park. You look like you haven’t breathed fresh air in days.”

Ayame’s surprise and relief were both palpable. She blinked, glancing at her boss’ closed office doors. “I don’t think I should,” she replied quietly. “His lunch hour is about to start, and there are meetings scheduled within the two hours afterward…” She blinked hard, a lightbulb seemingly popping to life between her ears. “I’ll route all calls to my work phone and take a picnic lunch. I’ll be back no earlier than 1:45.”

Momo checked her watch. It was 12:15. “Excellent.” She flashed Ayame a brilliant smile on the way toward the double doors leading into Shouto’s office. “Thank you. Really. I’ll make sure he knows how far out of your way you’re going.”

Ayame snorted quietly, her purse already hung over a shoulder. “You know me,” she replied cheekily. “I work to the bone for my paycheck. This really is the worst, let me tell you.”

Momo laughed in return. She waited for the elevator to close before reaching for the door knobs in front of her, unwilling to let anything else distract them. There was no reason for anyone else to be on that floor for the following hour and a half. Until 1:45, Shouto was hers. She twisted one knob and leaned her weight forward to push the door open, only to jump in surprise when it bumped against the sole of a shoe on the other side.

Shouto blinked back at her through the crack between the door and its frame, too stupid cute for his own good as he visibly tried to parse out what was happening. Momo had known him for over a decade at that point and he’d only gotten cuter over time. Good God, how was he even human? “Uh, hi,” he said, his confusion apparent. He peered around her toward the back of Ayame’s desk. “Did I hear the elevator twice?”

“Yep.” Momo didn’t give him time to investigate. She held the lunch box up and put it between them as she walked forward to make him focus on taking it from her hands while she closed the door behind herself. “Your receptionist is on lunch break and you left yours at home.”

It worked. He took the lunch box and gave her room by stepping back, smiling the whole time. “Thank you, Momo,” he said, eyeing the container with obvious elation. “I would have just had something delivered when I realized it was missing. You didn’t have to come all the way up here just to give me this.”

“Of course I did.” It was a casual day with nothing major planned as far as she knew, but Shouto was still dressed like he was going to meet a room full of politicians. His dove gray button up was rolled to the elbows, the rest of him all clean pressed lines and well tailored hems that hid what she knows to be a deceptively lithe frame. Under the expensive business drag, Shouto was built like an endurance runner. She smoothed her hand over the seam where his neck and shoulder met on the way to press a soft kiss to his mouth. He pulled in a sharp little breath through his nose, but immediately relaxed under her touch as the breath came out in a slow stream. She pushed everything she wanted to say out loud into that one brief kiss - you’re safe, it’s okay, you can relax. It seemed to get the message across, because Shouto’s hands were on her waist just a few seconds later as he eagerly returned the tenderness offered to him.

They pulled back before the contact became anything but chaste. Momo offered him an innocent smile, even as she lingered in his space and played with the pressed edges of his shirt lapel. “Take your lunch break. Please.”

Shouto’s gaze fell to the meager space between them, grip loose and gentle over the points of her hip bones. He looked so… tired. What could have possibly been weighing on him hard enough to make him physically slump over? Did she really want to know, especially if it had anything to do with his “ side jobs”?

“Okay.”

He tilted his head up again, and when he met her eyes again his flickered with sadness. “I’m sorry.”

Momo slipped her arms around his neck to pull him the rest of the way toward her and into a tight hug, their fronts seamed together from the collar down. He clinged back, snaked around her waist like he was afraid she would melt through the floor. That wouldn't do. “Don’t apologize,” she murmured back into the side of his head, her fingers snaking up through his hair on the other side to soothe his scalp with her nails. “You’re doing your job. It’s not your fault things are busy.”

“That doesn’t excuse neglecting you.” He stepped back again, taking the lunch box with him on the way to a massive wood desk sitting in front of the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “My lunch hour is all yours. It doesn’t make up for being so spacy the last few weeks, but I hope it’s a start.” He sets the container down on the desk to open it and unpack their lunch, but Momo quickly follows him and pushes his hands flat against the lid.

“Wait.”

He was still thinking too much, dammit. Shouto did as requested and went still under her touch while she scooted their lunch out of the way and rounded the desk in three long, slow strides. He tracked her every step, confusion warring with a spark of desire Momo fully intended to cultivate as she slid into his personal space again and nudged him back into his chair. He landed in the seat with a grunt and a quiet thump while Momo perched herself on the very edge of his desk in front of him.

“I thought you were coming by to have lunch,” he said plainly, a faint smirk edging across his mouth when Momo’s face pinched into a frown. He was needling back, the bastard. He’d already keyed into what was happening and was playing coy just to get back at her. Fine. At least he wasn’t thinking about work.

She nodded back. “That’s still happening.” Her hands gripped the edge of his desk on either side for leverage as she scooted up to take her weight off her feet, bumping his shin playfully but gently with the toe of a shoe on her way up. Her knees had been pressed tightly together until she hopped up, but once she was seated she let them widen until they were held reasonably wide without being too obscene. Her loose skirt pooled around her lap and across the span of desk between her spread thighs, effectively curtaining any direct view. If this didn’t get him out of work-brain, nothing short of a fan dance with tax forms would.

Luckily, it didn’t come down to burlesque with office supplies. Shout followed the shift of her knees with a slackened jaw, hunger building in his narrowed gaze and the fingers that tightened around the arms of his chair as he pushed himself up to his feet. His desk only increased their height difference by an inch or so, but it felt like he towered over her as his hands found her shoulders and pulled her into another kiss. The suggestion seemed to have gotten his head into the game; the faint edge of teeth pressing into her lower lip parted them and he groaned in appreciation as a callused hand smoothed itself over her lower back.

She hadn’t exactly chosen this life. It was unsaid knowledge that they would end up together before either of them could have even understood the concept. Truthfully, neither of them had been left with much choice. But as he pulled her onto the edge of the desk again in one smooth tug, seaming their laps together so quick it left her breathless, Momo couldn’t help the fondness that swelled in her chest. God, was she lucky to have ended up with him. Under all the coldness and professionalism and deeply-rooted anxiety was a man too kind and sensitive for the ugly world he’d been born into. If she hadn’t been the one “convenient” enough to use as a power consolidation move, would she have ever seen that tender side of him?

They’d barely found a rhythm between their mouths when Shouto broke away to hover at the side of her neck, just a breath away from her pulse. She jumped at the ghost of his breath over her skin, which she quickly realized was just a distraction as Shouto pushed his hands under the tulip hem of her skirt, palms flat to her bare thighs. “Bastard,” she grumbled as she stomped on the urge to squirm. He kept his office ice cold, which meant his fingers were usually about the same temperature in concentrated form.

She could feel his smirk against her neck as his hands trailed further up her thighs. She felt his fingertips poke into her abdomen, right at the bare seam where her hip and thigh met, and when he paused to groan quietly against her skin the urge to squirm became too much. “You planned this out,” he rumbled.

Momo circled her painted nails over the back of his neck. “Indeed,” she admitted while she toyed with the clipped strands at his hairline. “Down to the contingencies.”

He hummed again, deep and low in his chest, the rumble echoing through her as she clung to him harder. His hands were no longer frigid against her when they slid even further up, a comfortably familiar set of puzzle pieces that fit snug against the seams just below the points of her hips. When he met nothing but more bare skin, it hit some kind of switch in him because Shouto dipped to kiss her again with a newfound urgency, his grip tightening at the pads of his fingers until Momo wriggled against the pressure.

When he let go, it was only to slip down to his knees and tug her own over his shoulders. The bell shape of her skirt tented almost comically over his head as his arms bracketed her thighs against his ears, obscured until he audibly huffed and paused to shove the offending garment up toward her stomach.

Momo snorted as her skirt was abruptly jammed upward. “Easy down there,” she chided gently. “I like this ski-”

Her heatless protest was cut off by a sharp inhale as an impossibly hot tongue drags a long, agonizing line up the length of her exposed slit. Just as quickly, any thought she had to preserve her skirt flew out the window. He could have ripped it off her for all she cared (though logic screamed from somewhere in the void that that would be a terrible idea). A near save of throwing an arm back prevented her from losing her balance and falling back against the desk, the heel of her palm landing with a loud thud. His shoulder nudged her leg up far enough for her boot to find his chair and she eagerly took the leverage, his shoulder effortlessly holding the other leg wide.

He set into her like a man starved. It was all Momo could do to sit back and let him ravage her with only his mouth: reflex dictated she navigate them to the floor and re-position herself above his mouth until she was satisfied he’d decompressed enough. As it were, he drank in the praise that bubbled from her with quiet groans and subtle arches of his head into the fingers she had tangled through his hair, set on his task with an intense focus that had Momo nearly falling apart at the seams in what felt like moments.

When his lips locked around her core, there was no way she could have held herself up even if she wanted to. She dropped back to the top of the desk as gently as she could as Shouto nudged her hips upward, splaying her knees even wider than she’d been holding them over the edge of the desk. She buried her face in the crook of a sweatered elbow just in time to muffle the wail he tore out of her as he latched around her again with two warm, thin fingers sunk down to the hilt.

Momo had been on her fingers for long enough that being touched by someone else nearly sent her over the edge. Shout seemed to read her tensing up accurately and withdrew before she could fully commit to her orgasm, leaving her dangling on the edge until she sucked in a breath and forced herself back. When Shouto moved to stand, her sudden scowl only deepened. “What the fuck?” she breathed, but her confusion evaporated the moment she saw his hands go for his belt buckle.

Oh. Oh.

He was on her again before she could fully process the transition. Somewhere off the edge of the desk his belt jingled as he shoved his slacks down toward his knees, his once neatly tucked in shirt a rumpled mess against her skirt where it pooled around her stomach. Their lips sealed together hard enough for Momo to feel it against her teeth, a hand supporting the back of her neck when Shouto buried himself inside her with one hard, seemingly blind thrust.

God, that level of competency shouldn’t be possible, let along legal. Momo wailed again into their open mouths, the noise all but swallowed by Shouto as he allowed her a solitary second to breathe, then moved straight into a demanding pace that had her writhing under the intensity. Their hands tangled together on the way up to either side of her head, where the backs of her hands were unceremoniously pinned down as he fucked her hard enough to make the desk creak under them both.

Obscenities and even more obscene noises echoed around the otherwise silent office as they both approached their climaxes. Shouto looked like he was about to either pass out or fall apart at the seams; Momo encouraged him toward the latter by wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her lower half off the desk to let him go as deep as he could and holy shit she didn’t know he could go that deep. Neither of them lasted more than a few seconds, Shouto bottoming out with a guttural moan that stuttered with his hips. Momo followed him as soon as she felt him fill her from what felt like the core out, her back arched up off the desk in a sharp crescent with Shouto desperately panting into her neck as she warbled out his name.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. This was the man she’d fallen for, not the exhausted log she’d greeted at the office door. She couldn’t see his face but she could feel him smiling against her neck, his breaths coming in short bursts that fanned over her throat as he clung to her. “I love you,” he murmured between breaths. “So much. Gonna be better to you, promise. More of this, less of this morning.”

His hands have already begun to wander despite his bearings still clearly being scattered, soothing down her sides and circling her shoulders and seeking out every spot that makes her melt as she slumped against the desk, struggling for her own breath. Even while exhausted and strung out of his mind, Shouto still instinctively nurtured others before himself. The world really was too cruel of a place for people like him.

“It’s not a set of checkboxes,” she reminded gently. Her manicured nails dragged matching paths up the back of his head from hairline to crown, tilting his head into the center of her bosom. Shouto rolled with the touch and settled into her chest, his hands coming to a rest at her sides once she began idly circling through his hair. “It’s the effort that counts. I love you too. I’m not mad, promise. I just miss you.”

Shouto tilted far enough to peer up at her, mismatched eyes still hazy when they found hers from somewhere around the top of her covered cleavage. She hugged him into her chest tighter as it ballooned with fondness again. He hadn’t pulled out yet; he had no right to be that cute. “Let me get through one more call and then we can go home together,” he suggested. “Maybe we can make dinner and watch a movie or something.”

“That sounds great,” she replied before Shouto could have a moment to doubt himself. She beamed down at him, confident and assuring. “But first I think you might want to, uh…”

Shouto’s eyes darted to where their hips were still locked together and jumped with a quiet gasp. “Sorry.” He slowly backed himself away until he was completely free in one slow, almost agonizing slide, Momo’s knees closing within moments so she could haul herself upright and begin adjusting her sweater hems.

“Has anyone told you you’re incredibly handsome lately?”

Shouto froze midway through buttoning his fly with a little choked noise. She watched his eyes widen slightly as he stared at the carpet, his cheeks a slightly deeper pink than they had been when they separated. “Yes,” he said back with surprising certainty. “But it’s still nice to hear.” The smile he shot back at her was disarming to a concerning level, and Momo felt her own cheeks deepen when he fixed her with it.

Bastard.

[springmagpies]

Intimacy prompt: 20 + Mackelena

Thank you ❤️

Here you are darling anon! I hope you like it! ❤️ Here is Mackelena + A Hand Written Note!

Mack was known to give a good inspirational speech or two. When it came to talking to a crowd, he could be eloquent, thoughtful, charming, and, yes, inspirational if that was what was needed. It was part of the reason his boss kept making him lead the team meetings, which he didn’t mind too much because it meant planning out the presentations with Hunter and Fitz. In spite of the chaos, they somehow always managed to make pretty decent presentations. 

Where Mack’s ability in eloquence failed, however, was in one particular kind of situation. Well, person. Elena. 

He met Elena at an art museum. He had been there because of the new exhibit that was opening on the art of invention, something both he and Fitz had been dying to see and something Hunter didn’t really mind going to. Fitz had brought along his wife, Jemma, and Hunter had taken his girlfriend Bobbi. Mack, suddenly feeling like the tag along to a double date he didn’t get the memo for, had been wandering somewhat behind the group, looking carefully at each piece. He wasn’t too put out about hanging out with his friend’s significant others. In fact, there were many occasions where he preferred Bobbi and Jemma to Hunter and Fitz. However, it did mean that he sort of went quiet during the visit. That is until he met her. 

She was looking at one of the Kahlo pieces, her rich brown eyes roaming over the painting as if it were a window into another world. She had a badge on her hip, connected to one of those clips that allowed you to stretch it away to scan at doors and things. It had MoMA printed across it and her photo ID. 

When she heard his footsteps behind her, she looked his way. She was in no way startled by his arrival, but instead calmly moved aside so he could see the work. 

“Thank you,” he said, coming to stand in front of the velvet rope that separated patrons from the painting. 

“Of course. It’s the kind of piece that deserves a close up view. There’s meaning in every brush stroke.”

Somehow, that brief introduction had turned into an entire conversation and before Mack knew it he was sitting next to her on one of the benches discussing art and everything else. His friends had had to track him down to tell him it was time to go, though they looked reluctant to pull him away. 

He had gotten Elena’s number, but somehow asking her to dinner became the hardest thing in the world. He continually got tongue tied, couldn’t find the words to do his excitement justice, and thought about running his head into a wall every time he fumbled. However, Elena was quick on the draw, and accepted his date proposal with a beaming grin that rivaled the sun in its warmth. 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

After two months of dating, Mack was trying to find a way to express just how much he liked her. They were going to dinner for her birthday and Mack wanted to give her something special, say something special. 

“Could you scroll any slower?” Hunter said, looking over Mack’s shoulder as he browsed through gift ideas. 

“This coming from the guy that types like he’s never touched a keyboard.”

Hunter opened his mouth to respond, but Fitz cut him off before he could.

“Hey Mack,” the Scotsman said, “you’re worried that you’re going to embarrass yourself and bollocks up telling her how you feel right?”

“Yes, Turbo. Thanks for that.”

Fitz ignored the sarcasm and continued. “Well, what if you just wrote her a letter.”

Relief suddenly flooded Mack’s nervous system as the lightbulb in his brain went off. 

“That’s a great idea, Fitz,” he said. He shut his laptop and stood up to put on his coat. 

“What are you doing?” Hunter said.

“Well, I can’t just write it on printer paper,” Mack replied.

Hunter shrugged. “You could, though.”

Mack drew his brows together and Fitz grimaced. 

“King of romance, you are,” Fitz quipped. 

Mack left right as Hunter started talking about having style.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Elena had wanted a night in for her birthday, the two of them just together on the couch watching a movie and laughing. When the night wound down and she was curled into his side, that was when Mack gave her the envelope. 

“What is this?” she asked, reluctantly lifting her head from his chest to take the cream colored parchment.

“I had a lot of things I wanted to say, but I was--”

“Going at turtle speed?” she grinned

“Yeah,” he laughed, “so I thought I’d write them down.”

Elena’s eyes went warm the way they did when she looked at him and her characteristic smile bloomed on her face. She kissed him on the corner of his mouth before looking down to the envelope in her hands.

Mack watched as her eyes flitted over his hand written words and he was shocked to find the look familiar. It was the same look she had had that first time he had seen her, looking into Kahlo’s window.

When she glanced back up at him, the smile was different. It was no longer coated in a laugh, but this time held all the words she wanted to say without even opening her mouth. 

“Mack,” she whispered.

“I mean it all,” he said, trying hard not to blush. 

She wouldn’t let him go shy. Instead, she grabbed his chin and pulled him down to kiss her, pausing only to say, “I love you too.”

Intimacy Prompts

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous)

“Hey, Orchid?” Midnight was lying on top of her desk, tapping his heels against the front and arching back to watch her type. “How many kids do you want?”

“What are you daydreaming about now?” She sighed, trying to focus on the after-action report she’d been trying to finish since he came in an hour ago.

He shrugged, which shuffled some of the papers beneath him. “I’m just curious. I know you’ve already got A6, but have you ever thought about starting a proper family? Getting round, having some little birdies floating around in there, making yourself a little nest?”

“It’d be my husband’s job to make the nest,” Orchid smirked. “If you want to know why I’m not thinking about it, that’s why. I barely make enough money for myself, let alone a kid.”

“Weeell, I’ve got some money stowed away from my days as the Demon of the Night. Nice little nest egg for a decent place to live.”

She rolled her eyes. “That would mean I’d have to fall in love with your first, wouldn’t it?”

“What, you mean you haven’t yet?” He sighed. “Well, back to the drawing board, then. You’ll let me know if you change your mind, right?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

Midnight rose off her desk, looking at the paper angel he left in his wake. “Great!...I’ll put these back, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Great, than-” She stopped herself. “Wait, say that again?”

“‘I’ll put these back, and then I’ll get out of your hair.’ Is that weird?”

Orchid blinked. “Yes, it’s weird! You’ve never said anything like that to me before!”

“Wow.” He chuckled. “That explains that, then.”

“Wait, are you telling me you’re actually helpful?”

Midnight’s hand raced to his heart. “Madame, you wound me.”

“It wouldn't hurt so much if you were like this around me more often.” She glanced around her office. “You know, if you’ll straighten up a few more things for me, I’ll let you stay longer.”

“I can clean my way into your heart? Say no more.” To Orchid’s utter shock, while the smile remained on his face, it hardened somewhat with determination. For the next two hours, while Orchid finished not one, not two, but three reports, Midnight straightened the papers he’d shifted, reorganized her furniture for the sake of feng shui, found a label maker and noted which cabinets were for reports and which for magazines, sorted those cabinets’ contents by date and alphabetically, and swept the floor without Orchid moving once.

When she’d finished the third report, she looked around the room and gasped. “M-midnight, this is...You’ve been capable of this the whole time?”

“Do you really think so little of me?” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s simply tidying up, Orchid.”

“But it would take me hours just to sort one of those cabinets...I’m sorry I’ve held out on you.”

Midnight smiled, waving his hand. “Oh, don’t get so flustered about it-”

“No, Midnight, I mean...” She blushed. “I mean for never considering your offers, because right now, it sounds very appealing.”

“Oh! In that case, get as flustered as you like.” He made his way back to her desk, leaning forward with a victorious smirk.

Orchid sighed. “There is no way to win with you...so I’ll just have to get better at losing. It’s 2, by the way.”

“What is?” The lightbulb clicked on. “Two kids? Really?”

“One of each, as close together as possible. They keep each other in check, they get along nicely, and we aren’t constantly stepping in between them.”

Midnight shrugged. “Honestly, I’m fine with zero, but whatever you want’s fine with me.”

“Wait, you don’t want to be a dad?” She laughed. “Oh, honey, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

“...No, no no no-”

Orchid nodded, still laughing. “I’m not the only one anymore! Hah! Thank you for volunteering, Mr. Co-Captain!”

“What a dirty trick.” He smiled. “But if it lets me spend more time with you, I’m game.”

“...I didn’t expect you to go there,” she muttered, the blushing returning.

Midnight walked around to her chair and offered her his hand. “If you’ll let me, Orchid, there are hundreds of places I can take you. Some of them you might even remember afterwards.”

“Only some?” She sighed. “Should I ask about the others?”

“Probably not.”

Orchid nodded. “Alright, then, Co-Captain. Where are we heading first?”

“The shop.” He blushed. “I um...I need to restock on something.”

“Eh, I’ve got spares somewhere in my room.”

Midnight stared. “Spare what?”

“Are we talking about different things?” She stared back. “Please tell me you meant what I think you did.”

“I was going to buy more wine to share.”

Orchid’s face became a plumed tomato. “I have that, too.”

“So...straight to your place, then?” Both of them had lost any sense of composure.

“I guess?” She shrugged. “What was your plan?”

Midnight shook his head. “I don’t know. Do you have a plan?”

“Well...Do you wanna have a practice run?”

“Practice?” He chuckled. “I’ve had plenty of practice, Orchid.”

Orchid smirked. “But not with me.”

“Oh, so you’re expecting to be a challenge, then?”

“Maybe.” She took his hand, stood up using him as leverage, and whispered in his ear. “Or maybe I just want you to take the limiters off.”

That solved it. “I hope you’re prepared to take tomorrow off, then.”

“Prove yourself, and I might just give us two days off instead.”

“Two whole days?” Midnight picked her up and started walking towards the door. “Alright, then.”

Orchid punched his shoulder. “Hang on! Let me log out first.”

“Sure.” He carried back over to her keyboard and held her over it, looking away while she typed in her password (not that he didn’t already have it memorized). She tapped his shoulder when she was done, and Midnight carried her off to earn his weekend.

Three days later, when the rest of the squad next saw them, their three subordinates had to wonder if they’d actually rested at all.