#thxs 4 reading

[anguiiee]

Hii I’m angus and this is like my blog. I like Nintendos and cartoons. I draw mostly fanart. I’m 15. Aroace. She/Her. Pls be nice.

99% of this blog is just me reblogging stuff or being inactiveee

My interests in no particular order ⬇️⬇️

Gamess

Splatoon 2 & 3

Breath of the Wild

Tears of the Kingdom

Taiko no Tatsujin

Pjsekai

The Great Ace Attorney

Actually the whole Ace attorney series except investigations 2 and Layton vs Wright

Kid Icarus Uprising and NES

Little Nightmares I and II

Roblox

Minecraft

Shows/Movies

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Ninjago

Monkie Kid

Lego Dreamzzz

Both Lego Movies

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Owl House

Amphibia

Both Spiderverse movies

Adventure Time

Fionna and Cake

[clowningaroundmars]

heeyyy yaaalllll

so i was thinking to myself, i love punkflower. i really do.

what if there was a hobie in miles' universe and he didnt have to do the whole long distance relationship across dimensions thing, though? just keep his lil secret crush on spiderpunk a secret and keep it pushing, only to literally bump into his own hobie brown in 1610 one day?

wouldnt that be cool, guys?

wouldnt it? :)

wouldnt :) it :) be :) so :) cool? :) and so cute too?

:)

update: >part 2 here<

Miles was late.

It was his first day back, the very beginning of his junior year at Visions Academy and he was late. God damn.

His parents were really gonna kill him this time, no doubt about it. There weren't even any good Spiderman excuses he could use to weasel his way out of getting into trouble this time! He'd just have to cross his fingers and pray that his chemistry teacher for this year wasn't a total hardass like last year's English teacher.

Maybe he could make up some dumb excuse this time, try to wriggle his way into the professor's good graces with some blatant lie. Anyways, whose dumb idea was it to put him in a class so damn far from the entrance doors so early in the mor--

BRRRRRRING!

Miles tore around a corner just as the final bell rang throughout the mostly-empty hallways, inciting panic in his chest and making him nearly launch himself down another hallway just to get to his class.

In his haste, he nearly knocked over a very tall and very... familiar looking person that happened to be in Miles' trajectory. Luckily, bodies didn't end up colliding but the shock of having a person fly so quickly into their line of sight shocked the both of them into skidding to a sudden stop.

The tall person ended up dropping a textbook and what seemed like an enormous packet of papers, because sheets scattered absolutely everywhere, almost like snow.

Ugh. Of course.

They both stared down at the mess in the middle of the hallway floor for a beat.

Then, Miles exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

"Aw man, I-I'm sorry! I just uh... here, lemme just--"

They both bent down to quickly scoop up the papers as Miles stuttered and spoke a hundred miles a minute, trying to apologize for the heart-stopping scare he caused. Just as Miles shuffled the papers together in his hands, he finally looked up at the unlucky student he almost football-tackled first thing in the morning... and nearly dropped the papers onto the floor again.

Kneeled right in front of him with papers and a textbook tucked under a skinny arm, long fingers nervously plucking up what was left of the rest of the packet, was none other than... Hobie Brown.

Oh. God.

This Hobie didn't seem to be Miles' Hobie, though.

(Miles' temperature rose a bit as he quickly thought: wait, my Hobie? That's not right, either.)

Instead of large freeform locs that tapered off like wicks, he was sporting long uniform locs that were piled up high in a loose ponytail on his head, most likely due to the school policy that stated boys needed to have hair above the nape of their neck. Miles kinda wondered about that policy, if he ever decided to grow out his hair; would pulling his hair up be enough? Or would they police his hair length and force him to cut it all off?

Well, turns out the answer was literally right in front of him. Another shock to the system right after the first one.

That was Miles' excuse, really. It was just so dang early in the morning and he really really wasn't thinking when he opened his mouth and basically shouted "Hobie?!"

It honest to god sounded like it echoed in the hallway.

He slapped a hand over his mouth, immediately chastising himself for the stupid mistake he made, mentally kicking himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!! He wasn't supposed to know this guy obviously, they hadn't even met in their dimension yet!

Hobie, for his part, didn't seem perturbed by this at all though. He took the papers from Miles' hands and straightened himself back up to his full height, offering a hand so that Miles could stand up too.

He shrugged shyly and hid behind a couple locs that happened to fall back into his face, holding the books and papers closer to his chest.

"Uhmmn yeah, sorry. I-I'm runnin' late to my first class so I can't really give any autographs right now. Maybe later... if we see each other, ok?"

Miles blinked owlishly. Did he just say... autographs?

And wait a minute... was this Hobie... American?

Miles' poor little sleep-deprived mind was being blown again and again. He really didn't know if he was ever going to recover from this.

Hobie started to back up and walk away so Miles held his hands up to stop him. "Wait wait wait, autographs? I'm not uh-- sorry, this is weird," he laughed, rubbing his neck. "Nah, man. That's cool. I don't really want any autographs. Are you uh-- are you famous, actually?"

It was this Hobie's turn to blink owlishly now, hesitating a bit. A non-pierced eyebrow was raised as he said, "I... I kinda am...?"

He turned and pointed out the giant window of the hallway that they happened to be standing by, and Miles craned his neck to peer outside.

It smacked him right in the face once his eyes landed on it: a giant billboard fixed atop a neighboring building that depicted Hobie Brown in a luxurious-looking perfume ad. He sported the same locs as he did in real life, wearing shiny-looking makeup and giving the viewer the fiercest, smokiest look Miles has ever seen from a model in a hot minute. He was clutching deep purple satin, wrapped in it, basking in it. A single perfume bottle with a deep purple bow on the neck was photoshopped next to him, matching the overall vibe of the ad.

Miles was rooted to the spot, absolutely gobsmacked. How in the world did he miss that?!

Distantly, a small echo of a conversation he had in what seemed like a lifetime ago floated up from a memory. "I was briefly a runway model" pulsed in his neural pathways for a quick second.

Slowly, the gears started turning in his head. Slowly, he turned back to his dimension's Hobie Brown, who was giving him a strange sort of look.

Miles awkwardly tried to gather himself up, waving his hands around as he struggled for a non-weird explanation to his very weird behavior.

"I-I mean-- ahahaha! Yeah I mean, obviously you're famous! I was just y'know-- playin' with you. Pulling your leg and all that, I guess... heh."

The strange dubious look on Hobie's face didn't budge. "...Right."

Miles coughed conspicuously, trying to change the subject. "But uh yeah, haven't seen you around this school much then! Are you... you in a different grade than me or...?"

The corner of Hobie's mouth twitched suddenly, and for a split second Miles wondered if he said something wrong.

But then Hobie chuckled a bit. "No, I don't think so? This is my first day here. Like... ever. So I'm not really surprised you haven't seen me before. I just transferred over."

Miles practically sighed in relief and nodded, hands in his pockets. "Right! Right, very cool. Welcome to Visions then, I guess. Uh... I'm Miles! Miles Morales. Nice to meet ya!"

He goofily stuck a hand out, which Hobie actually accepted. They shook hands for a second, and then Miles was suddenly taken aback by how cold his hand was against his own skin. It was a definite contrast to the warm and lanky body he remembered practically draped across his own, back in Mumbattan.

He forced those particular memories away for now.

This Hobie was smiling down at him, sad eyes set inside a seemingly genuine expression of fondness. "Cool. I'm Hobie. But, uh, it seems like you already knew that, so."

"Aha, yeah yeah! It just-- honestly it's just the shock of, uh, running into a major celeb in the middle of my school that really got to me, I think. Sorry. I probably look like a total weirdo right now!"

Hobie shook his head, and Miles took the opportunity to really study this guy now that the shock was over and the vibe was more chill. This Hobie was just as long and lanky as the punk anarchist Miles was already well acquainted with, but he held himself completely differently. Where Spider-Hobie was all confident strut and careless swagger, this Hobie seemed to be all reserved grace and... sadness? He definitely reminded Miles of a willow tree drooping down into a lake, beautiful but tragic at the same time.

Okay Miles, get it together, he thought, stop thinking this guy is beautiful. I mean, he is beautiful yeah... but c'mon man, focus!

Hobie's non-pierced lips were moving now, finishing a sentence that Miles most definitely did not catch.

Then, Hobie looked at him expectantly.

Oh shit. He just asked a question didn't he? Fuck.

"Uh, sorry... one more time?" Miles grinned as wide as he could, apologetic. Nice going, Morales, the humorless voice in his head chimed in. Definitely not convincing this guy you're an alien from outer space or anything!

Hobie huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. "Sorry, my fault. Sometimes I mumble and... yeah. Mom says I need to work on that," he sighed, then continued, "I was just wondering if you knew where room 301 was?"

Miles nearly jumped with the force of the realization that just hit him.

"301? Mr. Moriarty's class?"

"Y-yeah, that's the one," Hobie smiled, twirling a loc on one finger and tugging it a bit. Then he tucked it back behind his ear. "I'm actually so lost it's not even funny, I'm godawful at directions and like, navigating. I've been looking for it for like 20 minutes now--"

"That's where my first class is too! AP chem!"

Hobie seemed to brighten up a bit at that, straightening his posture up from his own self-conscious hunch. "Oh cool! We should probably get going then, if we don't wanna be more late than we already are."

Without thinking, Miles places a hand on Hobie's shoulder and steers them both towards a classroom right at the end of the hallway they were in.

"Of course, right this way! Pretty lucky you ran into me, huh? I can help you find your other classes later on if you want, too."

For the first time since nearly crashing into him, Miles looked up at Hobie and saw genuine happiness in his eyes as they grinned at each other and walked down the hall together.

"...Yeah," Hobie said, nodding slowly. "Yeah that'd be pretty cool. Thanks!"

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Their chemistry teacher ended up not being a total hardass after all! Especially when Miles rolled up with none other than Famous Model Hobie in tow, immediately causing a ripple of whispers amongst the students sat at their desks.

Mr. Moriarty was a short and stumpy old man with a kind face and a severely receding hairline. He took one look at Hobie after squinting at his attendance sheet, accepted Miles' quick explanation that they were late because Hobie's minty fresh enrollment got him all lost in these maze-like hallways, and excused their tardiness with a wave of a hand.

"It's the first day and you were very kind to help a new student out, Mr. Morales. You're both excused for today, but try not to make a habit of it, alright?"

Miles bobbed his head as he picked his way past rows of desks. "Absolutely, sir. No problem at all. Thanks a bunch!"

Hobie stuck close to him, and smiled a bit as the only two desks left empty in the whole room happened to be right next to each other, right up in the back of the class. Nice.

They took their seats and exchanged a couple of glances as they pulled out their notebooks, barely listening to their professor's quick introduction and class syllabus. Well, Miles was barely listening, anyways. He was too caught up in the euphoria of running into a dimensional variant of one of his friends, in Visions Academy no less! His mind started to wander a bit. Did a 1610 Gwen exist too? a 1610 Pavitr? Were they also here at Visions? And what was with these random stares he and Hobie were getting from their fellow classmates right now?

Every now and then a student's head would swivel back to glance in their direction, awestruck looks evident on their faces.

How famous was Hobie anyway?

Of course, there was that giant billboard conveniently placed within view of the school's back hallways near a busy intersection, but Miles really started to think. He sneakily pulled out his phone and swiped down to the lowest brightness he could in case the classroom's fluorescent lighting wasn't enough to hide the phone screen's own light.

He kept his face straight forward, eyes flicking to and from his typing that he was trying to conceal behind the student sitting in front of him. He typed Hobie Brown model, Hobie Brown perfume ad, Hobie Brown supermodel, getting absolutely nothing every single time. Well, nothing that looked like the Hobie Brown sitting next to him, who happened to be dutifully scribbling down some notes in his notebook. Miles looked down at his own empty sheet of paper and quickly copied his new friend, whipping out a pencil and hurrying to catch up with the lecture on the whiteboard before the professor moved on.

Groan. What gives? Was Hobie this super accomplished, totally famous supermodel or not? Maybe he wasn't on social media, oddly enough. Maybe he just started an illustrious career and happened to be famous only in Brooklyn right now? No, that didn't make sense. If he was some small-time influencer or whatever, people would not be asking for autographs so often that Hobie would just automatically assume anyone who recognized him wanted one. And the looks on these other kids' faces convinced Miles that... maybe something was missing. Maybe he's just not searching up the right terms?

Agh, if only Spiderman business didn't keep him totally detached from reality sometimes. He really felt like he and the rest of the world were on totally different planets. If he had any friends besides Ganke, he probably would've heard about Hobie by now.

He bit his lip in concentration, trying to multitask between forming theories and keeping up with the lesson in the front of the classroom.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of eyes staring straight at him that didn't belong to the other classmates he barely even knew. He glanced over at Hobie, who quickly looked away.

Was that... an embarrassed look on his face just now? Miles scratched at his jaw a bit, more confused than before.

That was weird. Whatever. Anyways...

Before long, class was over and the bell rang. Miles and Hobie both meandered slowly up to the door and hung around the outside, leaning against the wall as they compared schedules before they had to make their way to their next class.

"Dang," Miles lamented, clutching his own schedule and moving to slot it into the cover of his binder. "Looks like we don't share any more classes besides 1st period..."

Hobie stopped his hand and squinted at the sheet again, glancing back at his own. "Uhmm... nah, actually. I think we might have 6th period together? Right after lunch."

"Do we share a lunch period too, actually?" Miles asked excitedly.

Hobie made a small noise of triumph, a smile playing over his lips. "Yeah! 1st, lunch and then 6th. Okay. Better than nothing, right?"

Miles chuckled, shoving his schedule into the plastic and tucking it under his arm. "Definitely. We can eat together at the cafeteria if you want! I'll walk you to your next class though, since it's basically right around the corner."

Hobie shrugged his own backpack back onto his shoulder and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. His eyes were cast downwards as he grinned at the floor and said, "yeah, if you don't mind... that'd be pretty cool."

This guy sure does like the word cool, Miles thought, and away to Hobie's next class they both went. They both ignored the various whispers and stares in their direction. Miles was already used to it by now.

They walked together amiably, in near lockstep for a little while before Hobie finally spoke up again.

"... So... if you don't mind me asking... why are you so nice to me if you didn't know I was famous, then?"

It was an innocent enough question, but it kinda caught Miles off guard nonetheless.

He laughed nervously. "Uhh ahaha, whaddya mean? I did know you were famous! I just... y'know my brain doesn't work the best real early in the morning. I'm, uh. Sometimes I can be pretty weird, if you haven't noticed by now."

Hobie nodded slowly, digesting this information for a bit. "Yeah, you did recognize me in the first place, I guess. It's just weird, you're like... the first person I met that doesn't look at me like I'm made out of solid gold, though. That's all..."

They exchanged glances again, and Miles' brain was working into overdrive, thinking of an appropriate response.

Before he could open his mouth, they finally reached their destination and Hobie bumped Miles' shoulder with his arm, smiling.

"So, thanks. For, uh... this. All this."

Miles raised a brow at him. "Oh yeah, this is nothing. I just walked you over to your next class, no biggie. My class is right over here anyways, so--"

Hobie laughed and shook his head, the expression lighting up his facial features unlike anything Miles has seen on that face yet.

"No, Miles. Not just this. I mean, like..." Hobie dipped his head, a bashful sort of move. "I mean, like, being nice to me. Like forreal. I really appreciate this."

They looked at each other for a moment, something real warm growing in Miles' chest all of a sudden, something... familiar.

He was just about to casually brush the gratitude off a second time with a dorky quip, before some girl's screechy voice interrupted their private little moment out of nowhere. It honestly startled them both, and the nice warm atmosphere dissipated immediately.

"Oh. My. GOD!! Is that Hobie Jones? Like actually?!"

She giggled and bounded up to them, blatantly ignoring Miles to insert herself between them and crowd into Hobie's space. She coquettishly asked for a selfie with him, promising to tag him on social media. The sudden commotion unfortunately attracted some other students who then took their cue to also bother Hobie for autographs, selfies, throwing compliments left and right.

Miles backed up out of the crowd, eyes still on Hobie as he watched the poor guy metaphorically slip on a mask, the very same that Miles saw when they first met not 2 hours ago. It was a sad, detached sort of look, and Hobie was forced to hunch in on himself to meet his fellow students' heights as they snapped selfie after selfie. His lips formed a smile all the while. His eyes did not.

A pang of sympathy hit Miles as he slowly turned away and made his way down to his own classroom without so much as a goodbye. He shrugged to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, he knew how that felt, just trying to mind your own business and live your life, do what you have to do-- and being stopped by nearly every living being within a 50 ft radius wanting their photo ops and their babies kissed.

Miles smiled to himself as he shouldered his way past other students and sauntered into his class, right on time. The bell rang as he reached his desk, and he pulled out another notebook out of his bag before the realization finally hit him with the force of a truck.

Wait... Hobie JONES?!

Miles quickly glanced around at his surroundings and mentally kicked himself yet again for choosing a seat so close to the teacher's desk, almost right up at the front. Damnit!

But the teacher wasn't in the classroom just yet, most likely making a quick run down to the printer down the hall to make copies of the class syllabus or something.

Okay, Morales. Gotta be quick.

He hastily pulled out his phone yet again, one eye on the door. He quickly typed in Hobie Jones model in his browser's search box, letting out a breath as search results loaded up and gave him exactly what he was looking for this entire time.

Bingo.

Hobie's face popped up in the image search previews, all sorts of cool and striking photoshoots lit up in all kinds of different ways. And the very first link at the top of the page? Hobie's own Flickstagram.

With a shaky hand, Miles tapped the link and impatiently waited for it to load, for his phone to get with the program and just open the damn app already. He kept glancing every so often at the door yet again, praying that the printer or copier-- or whatever-the-hell that was keeping the professor away from the class-- would keep them away for just a second longer.

He finally cast his gaze back down onto his own Flickstagram app and his heart nearly dropped out of his chest.

At the top, right next to Hobie's own smoldering profile picture was his username: hobiemjones

hobiemjones... hobie m jones. Hobie M. Jones.

M.J.

Miles exhaled again and tucked his phone away in shock just as the classroom door opened yet again and all the students quieted down. This class's teacher made their way over to their desk, piles of papers in hand. They started to pass them out to the students in the front row, introducing themself and then going over the usual attendance policies.

Miles accepted the syllabus sheets with trembling hands, turning to pass them over his shoulder once he got his own, his mind running a hundred miles a minute.

Peter talked nonstop about his wife, whenever he managed to stop talking about his baby, that is. It was always MJ this, MJ that. Flashes of a middle-aged man staring forlornly at a picture of his then-ex wife-- grieving the one who got away-- raced across his mind's eye. His universe's own MJ standing at a podium, strong but deeply hurt as she addressed all of Brooklyn after Spiderman's funeral.

"She wanted kids and I... just wasn't ready," echoed over and over in Miles' mind. Of course, they're together now. But the way Peter talked about his divorce... oh god.

Wait... was Miles ready for kids? Were he and Hobie going to have a messy on-and-off again relationship that ended up with them having to care for a spider-baby just like Mayday?! Maybe even multiple spider-babies?!?!?

Miles loosened his tie a bit, sweating profusely.

The fact that neither Hobie nor Miles were equipped with the parts to make a baby together flew right over his head. No... instead, his mind skipped straight to marriage, messy emotional fights and inevitable breakups. How was he gonna juggle school, work, Spiderman stuff and a relationship all at once?!

Without realizing, Miles started hyperventilating.

No no no no no, cool it Miles. COOL IT. Don't be weird. Miles mentally slapped himself and tried to even out his breathing as he leaned back in his seat and wiped some sweat off his brow.

He just proved to Miguel O' Hara and the entire multiverse this past spring that he can do his own thing, canon events be damned. Miles Morales was no victim to fate. Maybe all of the other spider-people had their own MJs. But maybe in this universe, MJ and Spiderman were... just friends. Good friends! ...Yeah, yeah, just friends...

The idea floated around in Miles' head throughout the entire rest of the class, but it didn't really make the tightness in his chest loosen up any at all.

Once the bell rang again and everyone started packing their things up, Miles dawdled a bit by the door, fumbling with his phone as his classmates filed out of the room. If he was late enough, maybe he'd completely miss Hobie in the hallways and not have to see him at all. Miles double-checked, triple-checked his schedule again and again, mapping out an eventual escape route through the halls in case Hobie's path did intercept Miles'.

God, Miles thought ruefully, checking the hour on his phone for the 15th time in a row and smiling awkwardly at his teacher's questioning glance. You're being so fucking weird about this right now!

The rational part of his brain kicked in and presented a quick slideshow of other calmer, more reasonable explanations as to why he really shouldn't be avoiding his new friend like the plague all of a sudden.

1. Hobie probably doesn't and won't like me, it stated. There is literally no proof that Hobie Jones is even into guys. Or me, Miles Morales.

2. Even if Hobie Jones is into guys-- or me, Miles Morales-- that does not mean the endgame is automatically marriage. No sir, no proof of that at all!

3. Canon events were officially disproven. Kinda. Mostly. Sort of?

C'mon, bro. Just man up and get out there. You're gonna be late for the next class soon anyways.

Right. He inhaled deeply and steeled himself.

"Okay well, uh. Have a nice day Mx. Gonzalez! See ya... tomorrow." Miles cringed inwardly at how lame that sounded, but his teacher didn't seem to notice as they bid him a nice day as well.

With his heart in his stomach, Miles slowly made his way into the hallway and started walking at a brisk pace, keeping his eyeline straight in front of him, trying to reach his next class on the floor below quickly but manageably. It was when he reached the stairs that his heart sank even lower.

Hobie was standing right next to the stairwell, glaring at the school map placed on the wall off to the left, fingertips on his chin as he mumbled to himself. He was glancing up and down between the map and his schedule in his hand, clearly befuddled.

Damn, he really is bad at navigating, Miles mused, once he recovered.

But as luck would have it, tragedy struck right then. Miles being pretty much the only other kid in the hallway attracted Hobie's attention, and even though Miles' feet kept him moving, he almost tripped on air once Hobie perked up upon seeing him.

"Miles!" Hobie grinned and waved him over, clearly happy to see him.

Oh noooo. Miles was not as happy to see him.

Without thinking, he launched himself down the flight of stairs, hopping over the railing and landing loudly on the 1st floor. Once steady, he basically sprinted over to his 3rd period class, completely missing the way Hobie's sunny grin slowly disappeared and his hand lowered back down to his side.

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Lunchtime came and went. Miles ate his packed lunch at his usual perch on top of the school building, where he always hid while trying to avoid the rest of the student body. He managed to pick a good spot away from prying eyes, and it never failed him.

Hobie ate alone, at a table tucked into the corner of the cafeteria despite being invited to several other tables. He sat and chewed sadly, locs back in front of his eyes, posture hunched over and defeated.

6th period came and went. Miles purposefully kept his gaze averted as Hobie walked in 5 minutes late. They sat at opposite ends of the room, never acknowledging each other's existence.

The school day ended and Miles made his way back to the dorms, sighing with relief once he glanced out the window and saw giant rainclouds rolling in over the horizon. Man, was he glad he got to bunk up on campus with his best friend! He greeted Ganke, kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto his bunkbed, laying back with a sigh. Maybe tomorrow he'd confront Hobie about his erratic behavior and apologize. Maybe.

But that was a problem for future Miles...

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Outside, the rain started falling fast and hard.

Outside, Hobie M. Jones waited miserably by the curb with an umbrella in hand, getting drenched by the water nonetheless. He checked his phone for the 15th time and sniffled angrily, pocketing it and gripping onto his umbrella handle.

Late. Again.

His mother was late to pick him up, as usual.

He swiped at a tear rolling down his cheek and finally loosened his ponytail, letting his locs fall all around his face.

Once she arrived, his mother was going to inevitably ask him how his day was, look only slightly concerned about his angry tears and ask if he made any new friends anyways, despite knowing the answer.

No, mom, Hobie would say as he kept his eyes glued to the car window.

No. I didn't make any friends.

[lightlytoastedcashews]

hiiiiiiiiii do y’all have jerejean fic recs :3

[mindurownbussines]

ok so 4 a lil context I was scrolling on the wind breaker tag bc I just watched ep.5 (man there is sm x reader there 😰) and I saw this 👇

LIKE WHAT IS THIS??? SINCE WHENN DID ANIMES START COLLABORATING WITH INTERNATIONAL FAST FOOD RESTAURANTS!!?!??   LIKE WHO THE HELL THOUGHT OF DOING A WIND BREAKER x BK COLLAB???

I mean we did kinda have a jjk x kfc collab so

whats next Kaiju.8 x McDonald’s 🤡

that would actually be really funny

and since I just started watching the anime (and planning to read the manga) I don’t really remember (or know how) to spell their names so have fun with that ig. (if u read the tags)

Also fyi LOTS of yapping in the tags read at ur own risk :)

[hotgirltrope]

“getting to know you is a privilege, and being torn apart by you is a blessing.” is such a heartbreakingly good quote. how tf did it spawn from 40k word harry potter (jegulus) fanfic?

[thebramblewood]

I tried @birdietrait's random CAS challenge for two Sims and somehow ended up with perfect counterparts. Apocalyptic hippie spellcaster and streetwear zombie were my main themes! Lore under the cut because my imagination went wild.

For Sparrow, I also rolled black hair, long hair, black eyes, warm skin tone, and gap teeth. She grew up in a nature witch commune/cult (you decide), where her strange all-black eyes were interpreted as a sign she would become an especially powerful spellcaster. But she's more of an alchemy girl who's perfectly content toiling away over her cauldron, so on the fateful day a roving pack of zombies slaughtered the rest of the commune, she stayed safely tucked away in the cellar. Her first few weeks as sole survivor were rough, and she has the scars to prove it. But now that she's scoured the dusty commune library for battle spells, she can easily wipe out zombie trespassers.

For Nash, I also rolled hazel eyes (or eye, in this case), fantasy skin tone, white hair, and tattoos (which you can't see, oops). He was just your typical San Myshuno tech bro strolling to the nearby hipster coffee shop to grab his morning latte when he became the unwitting victim of one of the first reported zombie attacks. Since then, he's lost almost all sense of his former self, but he's somehow managed to last years, questing across hundreds of miles in search of increasingly elusive human flesh. Now that he's met Sparrow, he's likely to wind up dead dead very soon, but at least his fit is still on point.

[13eyond13]

I'll be honest, I did not expect to love Berserk as much as I do from the first couple of volumes of it

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[zwathsort]

One of my few dragon OCs. This guy is Nerde! :D

[hana-mural]

guess who!!? (99.999999% of purseowner fans fail!!)

[eliasyourlocalcryptid]

tua finale spoilers

THEY CEASE TO EXIST ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ARE YOU KIDDING ME…

i’m actually going to sob over claire and allison tho,and lila and her kids too omg my heart

please i need a universal rewrite right now i need them to have a happy ending they’ve all spent so long trying to fix the world they can’t end it like this please please please

everyone got a happy ending except them and it’s breaking my heart to shreds

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins vigilantes: getting found out pt 2

okayyyy this part's a slight bit longer but hopefully, uh, worth it lol

kinda made myself tear up a lil at the end ahahaha

also pls don't ask when this takes place, like either in between istv and atsv or atsv and btsv.... idk bro LMFAO this is technically a whole other au in and of itself soooo yuh

disclaimer: i'm a whole ass anarchist, however miles and milo are two teenage boys who've grown up with a cop dad and they play a lil lip service to the police force during their big speech so... yeah i don't support the existence of the police force, but it is what it is. characters don't reflect author's beliefs and all that

>1st part here<

Jeff happened to be lucky enough to be pardoned for the rest of the night, and he also opted to use some PTO on this very very important occasion, so he sped off in the squad car with his sons in the back immediately after visiting the police department and signing off on some papers. He did not utter a word until they all got back home safely.

In the car, it was eerily silent as Jeff fumed in the front. Miles practiced what he was going to say over and over in his head, picking at his suit and avoiding his twin brother’s eyes. Milo held what remained of his mask in his hands, gauntlets off and tucked between his feet on the floor of the car. They both hung their heads low, counting down the minutes until they got back home and had to face their inevitable death sentence.

They were in so much trouble. Yikes. This was exactly what Miles dreaded for so damn long now, and it almost felt like a dream the way it happened so quickly.

Back home, both boys were sat down in the dining room area behind the couch, waiting for their mother to come back from her night shift. Milo was given an ice pack for his head and some painkillers, and then they were both sternly ordered to take off their respective suits.

Miles turned inquisitive eyes towards his dad.

“If your mom comes in and sees you two wearing those outfits right after work, that woman will have a heart attack and faint. Take ‘em off,” was Jeff’s sharp explanation.

They were not gonna argue with that. To the bedroom they both went.

“And then you both come right back out the second you change, got it?”

“Yeah dad, got it,” was Miles’ unenthused mumble before closing the door.

Miles turned back around with his mask in his hands, and immediately threw it at Milo.

“What were you thinking?!?!” he hissed, arms flying up into the air, making grabbing motions at his twin brother’s neck. “You absolute idiot, my god, we are so. Freaking. Dead!!”

Milo ducked back, scowling. “Me?!” he hissed back, keeping his voice at a harsh whisper as well. “What did you want me to do, pendejo, just let our dad fry, just like that? I didn’t see you moving to stop the guy!”

They were both snapping at each other, hands flying everywhere as they argued in harsh tones and whispers. They only stopped when they heard a loud knock on the door.

“Don’t take all night, either,” came their father’s booming voice from behind the wood.

Miles hung his head. Milo rolled his eyes and moved towards the closet, ripping his jacket off and kicking off his shoes. “Yes dad,” they both intoned at the same time.

A few glares were exchanged as clothes were tossed onto the floor, and Miles sighed loudly as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants, throwing himself onto his bed to get them up his legs all at once. He glanced at his bedside alarm clock, knowing his mom would be home any minute now. He felt his heart beat in his chest much louder and faster than usual.

Milo pulled on a hoodie over his head, gingerly easing the fabric over his bruised chest.

“Did the blast hit your chest too, man?” Miles asked quietly, eyes playing over the mess of a bruise over slightly-scarred skin, wincing a bit.

Milo exhaled sharply. “Shuddup.”

Miles frowned. “You have to let mom know about that soon. Don’t ‘shuddup’ me.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Miles knew his brother was sulking, but that really looked… bad. If he was responsible for not only dragging his brother into vigilantism, but also putting him in the hospital as well, he had no idea how he was getting out of this one alive. He was probably never going to see the light of day until college. Maybe not even then.

Once ready, both boys stood side-by-side in front of the door, hesitating. They both glanced at each other, then back at the door.

This was it, they both thought. The moment of truth. This was the night where it was all gonna go down, and their painstakingly-kept secret would finally be revealed to their parents. D-day. My god. He didn’t even know if the speech he prepared in the car on the way home was even gonna suffice against their mother’s explosive anger. She was gonna have a cow the second Jeff told her. Damnit.

Guess I can kiss the whole Spider-man thing goodbye, Miles thought, the very idea leaving a very heavy weight in his chest that he just couldn’t ignore. He leaned forward to turn the knob and swing open the door. With one last glance back at his brother, he stepped out. Then his brother followed him slowly, ice pack pressed to the side of his head again.

It was like a funeral procession the way they marched solemnly back to their chairs placed side-by-side by the table. Jeff leaned on the doorway to the hallway with his arms crossed sternly over his chest, still in his police uniform, hat already hung up.

As if on cue, Rio’s keys jangled against the door, and she stepped inside once the lock clicked open. Her slightly tired expression changed in an instant once she hung up her bag and walked into the apartment.

“Hello boys, I’m home!” She announced, a bit surprised. Not only were her husband and two sons all home at the same time, but they were all hanging around to watch her come home after work at such a late hour. Granted, it was summertime and the weekend, but still. Weird.

Jeff had texted her that something important came up and that she needed to be home ASAP, but didn’t elaborate further. She didn’t know what to expect when she got back. She crossed her fingers and hoped that it wasn’t that bad, if her husband texted her instead of calling. If it was an emergency, surely he would’ve called.

Right?

Her eyes widened once she saw the ice pack Milo held against his head, and quickly made her way over to him.

“Qué pasó?” She kneeled next to her boy, checking him over quickly.

Milo winced and tried to dodge his mother’s hands, holding a protective arm over his chest that no one missed. “Ma, stop. I’m fine, seriously. It’s… it’s fine.”

“Is it? What is going on, why is everyone so… so sad right now, and what are you two doing sitting here like this? Jeff…?” She turned to face her husband but he was already making his way back to the boys’ bedroom, scooping up their respective vigilante costumes and heading back out with the incriminating evidence in both hands.

Once he got back to the table, he tossed them onto the surface and crossed his arms again.

For a second, no one moved. The whole world held its breath for one precious moment.

Then, with deadly calm in her tone, Rio slowly stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “...What are those things?”

Both boys braced for impact.

“Well?”

Miles swallowed hard, hands gripped together tightly. “Uhm. They’re. They’re… our outfits. Y’know… for fighting crime.”

Rio gaped at her sons.

“He’s Spider-man, mom. Miles is Spider-man,” Milo clarified solemnly. His chin was at his chest now, avoiding eye contact with his mother.

“...And you’re the Prowler.” Rio finished.

She took a step back and exhaled, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her face. “Oh… oh my god. Dios mió, me voy a morir. I knew it, but still... me voy a morir!” ¹

Finally, Jeff spoke up behind her. “They’re not Halloween costumes, either. Guess where I found ‘em tonight?”

With tears in her eyes, Rio looked back at her husband, a pleading look on her face. “Don’t tell me,” she begged. But Jeff continued anyways.

“I took tonight’s shift on as a bit of extra, and when I was called to take care of an electric freak close to downtown, I found these two at the scene already.”

Finally, Rio exploded. “What?!?”

The twins flinched.

Jeff exhaled and pressed on, licking his lips. “Yeah, and not only that, but Milo here took on a direct blast of electricity to the face. He jumped in front of me and put himself in harm’s way!”

Scandalized, Milo leaped up from his seat, wincing only a little bit. “Wait a minute, I did it to protect you! That’s my job!”

The anger fizzled out immediately once both parents swung their withering glares around back to him, rage hot enough to almost burn two holes into his skull. Miles pulled Milo’s hoodie sleeve and quietly hissed, “stop making it worse!”

Milo clammed up and quickly sat back down, pouting.

“Your job?” Rio shot back incredulously, laughing angrily.

“That is not your job, Milo! That is mine! My job! I wear this badge every single day so that I can protect the people of Brooklyn. You are a kid with homework and chores to do, not fighting dangerous bad guys on the streets like some kinda—” Jeff worked himself up but then stopped, as if he suddenly ran out of steam. He placed his hands over his head, clearly stressed, and exhaled loudly.

“How long?” Rio’s tone was sharp.

They were definitely not getting out of this alive. Damn. Rest in power, Morales twins.

Miles shuffled his feet, hesitating. “Uhm—”

“Speak up, Miles. How long have you two been running around behind our backs and lying to us like this? Huh?”

Miles sighed. “I, uhm. We’ve been doing this… for a while now.”

“A while?”

“…A -a year.”

“A YEAR?!”

“I mean I’unno about Miles, but I’ve only been doin’ this for like a couple months, so…” Milo mumbled half-heartedly beside his brother. That comment earned him another set of glares, including one from Miles.

“A year. A year! A year, that’s how long you’ve been lying to us?” Jeff was pacing now, clearly stressed out. He was mumbling things under his breath that both boys would rather not know anything about.

Miles jumped up from his seat, seizing the opportunity when he could. “Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait, guys. Mom, dad. Listen to me, please,” he begged, hands splayed out in front of him.

He took a breath. He opened his mouth.

“Until college.” Rio interrupted, holding a finger up. “Both of you. Grounded! Until college! You will both be adults before you ever go out without my permission ever again!”

Miles deflated. “O-kay but mom, please! Hear me out first!”

Rio held a hand up. “I don’t wanna hear it! I cannot believe that both of my sons would lie to me like this! For an entire year, no less! Dios, dame paciencia, coño!” ² She shook her head as she held her face in her hands. “Do you two know what you’re doing to me? Look at me, I’m getting grey hairs as we speak!”

Jeff immediately took her side. “Do you realize what you’re doing to your mother? You’re killing her! And you--” he rounded on Milo all of a sudden, jolting the poor boy into sitting up straight. “You are killing me! You’re going around wearing those godforsaken gloves around, punching bad guys just cuz you wanna feel like a big man, huh? Do you know what that does to me?!”

Milo visibly prickled up, hunching in on himself. “I’m not doing it for me,” he bit out angrily.

“Then for who, huh?”

“I wanted to save the little guys on the street... when the cops couldn’t. I wanted to help Miles.” Milo sounded tired, and for a split second he looked much older beyond his years. Both of his parents softened for only a fraction of a second before Jeff rubbed his eyes and turned back to Miles.

"And who made you Spider-man all of a sudden? What happened a year ago? Tell me the truth. I don't want any detail left out!"

Ah, interrogation mode already, Miles thought humorlessly.

He sighed and dutifully got started on the whole backstory, careful to leave out the fact that he was with Aaron the moment he got shot, skipping to the part where he "found" his uncle's nearly lifeless body in that alleyway that fateful day. It was a harmless enough lie… Miles presumed. Right?

"Did you… then... h-how did you see who shot Aaron, Miles? Were you there?" Jeff asked quietly, also looking as tired as Milo did. Miles paused, not expecting the question.

Rio shot him a look. "Jeff, mi amor, please. Now is really not the time." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Right now, we have to talk about this... this... situation we have going on here. What's next?"

Miles shrugged, palms facing forward as if to say and the rest is history. "I'm... pretty sure you guys know the rest. Dad... you were uh, there. At the collider. I stopped Kingpin and then I just. Well, yeah. Y'all have already watched all of the news stories and the videos. So," he finished lamely.

Then, a surge of confidence as he looked at the concerned expressions dawning on his parents' faces. It's now or never.

"...B-but I love being Spider-man! Dad, you've seen me out there, the way I fight, the fact that you guys have less to deal with cuz I'm out there kicking ass!"

Oops. Wrong words.

Miles' confidence deflated as soon as those concerned and sympathetic looks turned into ones of anger.

"Kicking ass?! More like getting your ass kicked, little boy! How many NewTube videos are out there of you getting crushed by cars," Jeff started to count off of his fingers, "hit by buses, tossed in the air, punched and flung halfway across the block--"

"Jeff, please!" Rio cried, wobbling a bit. She pulled out the chair closest to her from the table and slumped down into it, rubbing at her temples.

"S-sorry, hon..." Jeff placed an apologetic hand on his wife's shoulder.

Rio sighed deeply.

"I get it. I know. But dad..." Miles steeled himself this time. "When you put on that badge every single day and you go out into those streets to protect the city, you think you're never gonna get shot at? Jumped? It is literally your responsibility to put yourself in the way of danger so no one else has to." He turns to the table and grabs his mask.

"For me," Miles continues, "this is my badge. Okay? I put this on every single day and swing out into the streets so people can shoot at me, or ask me for directions, or wait for me to get weird guys in stupid costumes away from the train tracks. I do this every single day, because if I don't, who will? Peter is dead--" ...wow, that feels weird to say.

"Miles..." Rio's big brown eyes gaze sadly at her boy, standing tall with this awful mask in his hand. A mask that she desperately wished wasn't his.

"Mom. Peter is dead. He is. Okay? If I don't step up and take his place, knowing what I can do? Then I might as well not even be alive at all." He tosses his mask dramatically back onto the table to punctuate his point. "I can shoot webs from my wrists and I have strength like y'all wouldn't believe. I can stick to walls and do everything that Peter Parker was able to do before he passed away. If I just sit here doing nothing with these abilities while everyone struggles to live their lives every single day, letting bad guys with superpowers do whatever they want, then what's the point of anything? The exact same reason why I put on this suit to go fight crime is the exact same reason why you do, dad." Miles turns to his father now. "You have your suit, I have mine."

Milo jumps in, enthused. "And the reason why I put on my mask is because of him. And the civilians, too... of course. But it's not because I 'wanna feel like a big man', dad. It's because it drives me crazy seeing my own brother taking on all of this responsibility on his shoulders all by himself. Miles is gonna do crazy things now that he got bit by a super-spider, right? We literally cannot stop him, even if we tried. Trust me. Might as well go along with him and support him so he doesn't get himself killed out there. That's why I do this. Every single day."

Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but is then cut off by Rio's own small, sad voice. "... Why does it have to be you two?" She asks quietly.

She looks so small sitting there on their wooden dining room chair, and a million times more tired than when she came in through the door. She wasn't even out of her own nurse's uniform yet, either. Miles felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Miles... did not know the answer to her question either. He really didn't. Why was it him-- out of all of the people in Brooklyn-- that got bit by that spider? Clearly, the universe had a grand, elaborate joke planned for him. That was really probably the only explanation for it all. But, no. No, there had to be something else in the cards for Miles. After all, he was bitten by the spider while out with his uncle who was secretly the Prowler, and he was present for not only Peter Parker's death, but that same uncle as well.

He squared his shoulders. And then told the truth.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "But... I do know this. Growing up, I always knew Spider-man was there to answer the call no matter what. He didn't pick this life of battling bad guys that wanna tear the city up all the time, a spider bit him, too. But he made me promise something before he died, and I have to live up to that promise. What else am I gonna do when I'm able to pick up cars with my bare hands?"

Granted, it was only a promise to stop the collider from opening a black hole inside of the city they lived in, but. Details. Anyways...

Rio hid her face in her hands again.

Miles softened his tone, sitting down. "This is something I worked really, really hard for and it's important to me. Milo... is kinda right. You can ground me. Until college. Or whenever. But as long as I've got these powers," he held his hands open, propping his elbows on his knees and meeting his mom's eyes, "and there's people out there that need saving? I gotta do what I gotta do, mami."

Milo leaned forward, too. "Yeah. Same here. He's not alone. The same reason we do this stuff is cuz... ever since we were little, we also watched you guys answer the call, no matter what. I never met Spider-man, before... y'know, but it doesn't matter. We do this for New York City."

Neither of their parents spoke for a bit, digesting all of this information in solemn silence. The anger from earlier all but melted away as they ruminated over all of this. All this time, their little boy was running around in a spandex costume, swinging around, punching bad guys and lifting fallen buildings off of people. There was... a hint of pride underneath all of the fear and anger and betrayal and anxiety, even Rio couldn't lie.

But god, how would things ever be the same again after knowing that the very hero who swung from building to building and knocked villains down before webbing them up was the very same boy with the brightest brown eyes they've ever seen; the boy who brought home A's on his test like he won a medal, the same boy who sang horribly off-key while doodling all over his sketchbook, who refused to tie his shoelaces and drove Jeff up the wall when he found graffiti and stickers all around the city in Miles' name? It was impossible... Rio's heart broke into two pieces.

And Milo... a tougher counterpart to her little ray of sunshine, but just as sweet. The same boy who would feed stray cats on the block, beam like a ray of light after winning a boxing match against a tough opponent, who would hide behind Rio at parties and join her happily to watch the latest episode of the new telenovela they both got hooked on... that same boy was wearing those gloves, swinging around the city looking like a bad guy himself. Rio's shattered heart gained another huge crack before finally breaking into three pieces.

Finally, she sighed again.

"You have superpowers?" She asked, hesitantly.

"... I... yeah, I do." Miles answered, fearing that this was a trick question.

Rio nodded sadly. "Of course. Of course..."

Jeff spoke up, now kneeling beside his wife, caressing her hand clasped in between both of his. "Just because you have superpowers, doesn't mean you're invincible. Miles, we do this because we care about you. Maybe we won't be able to stop either of you from putting yourself in harm's way... I mean, hell, nobody can stop me. But... god, isn't there any other way?"

Miles raised a brow. "Any other way to...?"

Jeff blew out a breath. "I-I dunno, can't you use your super strength to... well, maybe help the transportation department move some tracks around, build some new stations... that'd help the city. Swing around and deliver medicine to people for free? God, I don't know. I just don't want either of you to jump in front of bullets for other people... man..." he shook his head.

Miles and Milo exchanged glances. "I... I know it's tough to accept this," Miles started, unsure of what to say. "Maybe I can scale back the dangerous stuff some but... I... can't just stand around directing traffic when someone's getting mugged. Or a bank is getting robbed. Dad, I just can't. Maybe you guys will hate it every time I put the suit on and swing outside but... I can't give this up now. I'm sorry." He dipped his head apologetically.

Another long stretch of silence.

A clock ticks on the wall in the kitchen, and the ice maker in the fridge starts humming again. It's all so painfully domestic, painfully ordinary, it's almost an insult to the people living in this apartment facing these serious revelations all at the same time. It sure is a sharp contrast to the solemn mood settling all over everyone right now.

Rio looks deeply into Miles' eyes, then Milo's. After a while, she turns to face Jeff. "Jeff. You will not like what I'm about to say."

Jeff returns her look with one of confusion. "Honey..."

Rio shrugs, a small gesture but one that makes Miles and Milo's hearts skip a beat. "Mi vida, these are our boys. They have... this big responsibility now, to the people here in this city. Just like you. Just like me," she swallows and continues. "You and me? We've seen what Miles is capable of. Well, the both of them. And as much as it hurts, it would probably hurt even more if we kept them both back from being the heroes they need to be. What we need to do now is... we need to support them. We love them. They need us. We need them! Qué más puedo decir?" ³

Jeff looked deeply into his wife's eyes and then inhaled deeply. Not quite a sigh. That was maybe a good sign?

He stands up.

"...Boys."

The twins took their cue. They both stood up, too. Milo quickly discards his ice pack on his chair. Rio joins them, leaning on Jeff for support.

"When police officers get sworn in, they usually just have to do paperwork nowadays. Not too much of the whole bells and whistles due to high turnover rates, but tonight... if either of you want to continue to fight crime in this city, you both have to put your right hand up. Right now."

Miles could cry. Milo bit his lip to try and hide his grin, and they both dutifully raised their right hands at the same time. Jeff does the same, and reaches his left hand out to take Miles'. Rio takes Milo's.

"Pretend we are the Bible. Not paperwork. The Bible."

Both boys nod with all the seriousness they could manage, looking their father in the eyes.

"Do you solemnly swear on your mother and father's life that you will uphold the law and do right by the citizens of Brooklyn, New York, so help you God?"

"I mean... the law law? Cuz sometimes we--" Milo started, immediately earning an elbow to the side. He shut up.

"Yes, the law. I will not be having the DA of New York City up in my home lookin' for you two in case anyone gets badly hurt. I don't want him in my office, either." Jeff gives them both a look.

Miles pipes up. "Yes, we swear, so help us God."

"Milo?"

Milo nods emphatically. "Yes, I swear, so help me God."

Jeff nods once.

"Mijos. You will both be allowed to go and fight crime outside, con mi bendiciones. But. But... you will both also do it under two conditions. If either of you break my rules, you will have wished that spider never bit you," Rio glared at Miles. Then to Milo, "and you will have wished you never stole your uncle's gloves from his apartment. Got it?"

Both boys nodded, still holding onto their parents' hands.

"So, my two rules are this. Only two. Easy to remember, okay? Number one. Milo, you will take care of your brother as best as you can. Miles, you will take care of Milo as best as you can. Both of you will always be seen together when going out and doing hero things, do you understand?"

"Yes, mamí" the boys say simultaneously.

"Never, ever go out alone, ever. Neither of you will be alone for even a second, especially during the nighttime. Promise me this."

Miles puts his right hand down to take his mother's other hand in his. "Yes, mom. I promise. We both promise."

Rio bows her head. "...And as for my second rule."

"Do we have to have a curfew?" Milo asks quietly. Everyone shoots him a look again.

"No, no curfew." Before the boys could get excited, she quickly adds, "except for on school nights." They both calm back down.

"Your education is always, always more important. Don't forget this," she lets go of their hands to hold up a finger. "But as for my second rule? No more secrets between us. All of us. Okay? You tell me exactly when it is you leave to go and do what you need to do, and exactly when you come back. Promise me this, too."

This time, it was Miles' turn to start saying something dumb. "I meaann, like every single time? Cuz sometimes it's not really a one-and-done kinda thing, like a shift or--"

Everyone glares at Miles. Miles promptly shuts up.

"...Sí, mamí. Te prometemos todo eso." ⁴ Milo answers seriously.

Rio sucks in a breath. "Okay. Okay..."

She looks as if she's about to burst into tears, so everyone draws in tightly for a group hug. Rio sniffles against Milo's shoulder and Jeff leans his chin on Mile's head. Miles laughs wetly.

"Geez, y'all are crying? Man, for what? Ain't nobody dying or anything..." Milo interjects suddenly, causing the whole mood to dissipate all at once. Everyone laughs incredulously.

"Boy, if you don't know how to read a room..." Jeff starts, a warning tone laced into his playful grin.

"Man, I was just trying to lighten the mood! Damn, I mean shouldn't we be celebrating? Miles literally has super strength, you guys. Like c'mon, right? That is literally the coolest thing in the whole world!"

Rio groans, tossing her head back. "Mira esté, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... déjame agarrarte, maldito cabron..." ⁵ she mutters sarcastically, moving to grab at Milo's neck in the exact same way Miles did not even an hour earlier. He playfully dodged out of the way, putting his arms up to block, out of habit.

"Cabron?! Mom, you're so mean!" Milo complained.

"C'mere!"

Jeff leans in and interrupts their banter. "Milo. Son. You have to sit with me on the couch now, cuz we have to have a little chat about how you got your hands on those gloves, actually..." He grabs at one of Milo's arms, his smile just a tad bit too wide. Milo gulps.

Jeff continues, steering them both away from Miles and Rio. "And we also have to talk a bit about the history behind those things, too..."

Rio turns to Miles and cups his cheeks in her hands, looking into his eyes. "Do you actually, actually swear to me that you will try your hardest to stay safe?"

"Yes, mom, I do! We said it like a hundred times."

"Your father was right. Just because you have super strength now--"

"And super-healing."

Rio stares at him for a beat.

Miles squirms nervously. "...What? I do!"

"Super-healing, sure. Uh huh. If I catch you with bullet holes inside of you, I am not taking you to the ER then, Mr. Invincible."

"Ouch. Harsh."

"I warned you! I'm smiling like I'm joking but I'm really not!"

"Okay, okay, geez. C'mon, ma. It's really not that big of a deal. I don't get shot at as much as you'd think! Seriously! I'm fast. And... and I've been doing this for a while now. You have to trust me, okay?"

Rio sobered up. "I know. I know. I just... mi amor, I am your mother. I worry about you. You know... I've been taking care of my two little boys for so many years now. I just... I care about the both of you even when you two drive me completamente loca! I trust that you can both handle yourselves, I really do. It's just hard. It is. I-it'll... take some time to get used to."

Miles nodded. "Growing up is tough. I get it."

Rio smacked him on the shoulder.

"Ow! What, it's true! We're all growing up right now, I'm not a little kid anymore and... and you're not the mom of two little kids now. It's just... it's a transitional period! Life's tough!" Miles shrugs, smiling warmly.

Rio smirked, crossing her arms. "Uh huh. It sure is."

Then, she opened her arms for another hug from Miles, which he happily returned.

"I mean it, Miles. Whatever happens, I want you to keep yourselves safe. And ask for help. Papí, your father is a police officer. And whatever you need, whatever you need... I'm here, too."

Miles beamed at his mother with tears in his eyes.

"I know, mom. Thank you."

☆ translations:

¹ "my god, i'm going to die."

² "god, grant me patience, fuck!"

³ "what more can i say?"

⁴ "yes, mom. we promise you all of that."

⁵ "Lookit this guy, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... lemme get my hands on you, fucking bastard..."

[r-ando-m-w-rite-r]

When Crisis Hits, It Hits Hard

🛑-TWs: panic attack, minor assault, gore (like seriously, do not interact if blood or organs or vomit and stuff like that makes you squeamish)🛑

-Pls, if you can, give feedback because im not sure if this part is a little out there or not, but i tried to add backstory to the story itself

-If yall want a backstory breakdown and overall breakdown of what is currently happening in this series, just tell me and i will be glad to make it :)

-Word count: 5770

-From here the story should get a little less confusing, but i had to get my ideas out of my head and onto ‘paper’ before i drowned in them (TELL ME IF YOURE CONFUSED IN THE COMMENTS OR SOMETHING AND I WILL EITHER EXPLAIN OR REVISE THIS)

-Thx for all the support from you guys, its crazy i got like 40 likes on the first chapter so i was super excited thx thx thx xoxo have a good night guys 

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You woke to the sound of beeping. Squinting, you opened your eyes, despite the bright light overhead. You were in a…hospital room? The bright white walls gave you a headache quick, combined with the damn light. And the beeping. Where the hell was that annoying shit coming from? Growling, you snapped your head around, locating the sound. It was a monitor, reading your now fast-paced heartbeat.

What happened? The last thing you remembered was Ash. And pain. And…and Revenant. Revenant picking you up. Revenant taking you away from the massacre. Revenant looking down at you. Revenant nuzzling you. You had felt it within your feverish sleep, felt his eyes, felt his affectionate gestures. Where was he now? What happened during the match?

You attempted to sit up, but pain sparked, darting quickly around your insides and echoing in your ribcage. Groaning, you fell back down, your head landing on the pillow with a thud. The hell? Wasn’t this stuff supposed to be taken care of already? Why didn’t the doctors do anything yet? Your side throbbed gently, and you realized your breathing was a little forced. You knew your ribcage was jacked up, but you couldn’t help but wonder if your diaphragm was okay.

You listened to the beeping of the monitor for what seemed like hours before there was movement in the corner of the room. A doctor pulled back the blue curtain that you hadn’t noticed initially, stepping in. They held a clipboard, looking up from it to make eye contact with your curious but annoyed gaze. “Ah, you’re awake.” they said, and you identified them as a he, as their voice was deep. He wore pale blue scrubs, a mask, and a scrub hat. A few brown pieces of hair could be seen poking out. His hazelnut eyes gazed at you curiously.

“Well, yeah.” you said impatiently. You sat up slowly, and the pain stayed to a minimum. This was getting annoying quick. Never in your years of playing in the Apex Games had you been in the hospital for so long after a match. It made you feel weak, and you didn't like it. “Why am I still here? Shouldn't I be good already?” You took a deep breath, and your lower stomach cried out in a shot of pain. You groaned, squinting slightly. He gave you an upset look, then seemed as if he was thinking for a moment before deciding to respond.

“Well, ma’am, uh…”

“Just spit it out.” you growled. Damn, you sounded like Revenant for a second there. Weird, you had barely known him well, only about two days, and it seemed as if you and him had known each other for a while now. Funny how things can be like that. But it also seemed like things were..different. Ever since you had met the murderbot, it had seemed like your normal life as a Legend had gotten more interesting. You turned up one corner of your mouth in a smirk and looked down at your hands, which were clinging desperately to your throbbing stomach. Well, if you wanted to call that interesting, you guessed.

You tuned back in long enough to hear the word ‘surgery’ come from the guy. A trigger went off in your head just at this word. Images briefly flashed through your mind. Screaming. Tools. Things being taken from you. “Wait, what?” you said, snapping back to attention, now alarmed. “What did you just say?” What was he talking about? There was a quick moment of realization about what he may have said, but you didn't want to think about that. You couldn't. Bile rose into the back of your throat, and you quickly swallowed it back down. You felt your hands begin to tremble, but you willed them to stop, just long enough for you to focus on the now-confused doctor.

He raised an eyebrow before repeating himself in a low and slow voice. “I said that you have to undergo surgery.” You gasped. Your assumptions had been correct. No. No. No. He doesn't realize you can’t do it, there's too much trauma, too much pain. As if the word sparked meaning to the present, your side and lower stomach both began to throw a tantrum, shots of pain flying everywhere. ‘It’s all a dream..’ you internally whispered to yourself. ‘Not this. Anything but this!’ 

Your vision blurred slightly when the doctor didn’t say anything more. You couldn't believe this would ever have to happen again. What if you didn't survive this time? You should've died last time. You felt dead then. You looked dead then. You should've just died on that abandoned lab table so you wouldn't have to go through it again. You felt your chest constrict, and your breathing suddenly became ten times harder, making your lungs hurt. Every time you inhaled, it felt like hundreds of tiny needles were puncturing your organs. Was this hyperventilating? You fell back softly into your bed, this time no pain occurring because everything was already hurting.

You heard the beeping speed up increasingly as you instinctively reached up to grasp your neck with both hands. Faintly in the background, you could hear the doctor yelling orders and demanding people. There was a shout, and then another, and then a roar. What the hell? Your pain, however, brought you back, and you whined out desperately. When would it subside? When would the past stopped haunting you? Tears streamed down your face as your vision was closing up, the edges of the room you were in shadowing over with black. “Sir, you cannot go in now, no visitors allowed-sir, SIR.” a voice said sternly at what you could make out was someone trying to visit you. But who-? Just then something, someone, burst into the room, the curtains snapping.

You were looking up at the ceiling, and since your vision was almost completely tunneled, you couldn’t see who it was. Metal scraped the ground in a hurry, and suddenly Revenant was in your face. He looked brand new, no scratches, no bullet-marks. Nothing. Just plain Revenant. Your crying stopped when you looked at him. You felt protected once more. But everything in your vision was fading fast. “Hey, (y/n), you still there?” he breathed out quickly. You wanted to respond so badly. But you just couldn’t. You were gasping for air, and it felt as if you were drowning. You were. You were drowning in the past. You watched as Revenant’s now-worried face began to disappear. 

Your brain screamed out, ‘No! Don’t leave me!’ But your heart screamed louder. It thudded in your eardrums as it screamed out to the simulacrum, repeating one phrase. ‘Help me! Help ME! HELP ME!’ But it was no use. Your eyes shut. “No, no, don’t close your eyes. (Y/n), stay with me, dammit!” you heard him yell out, but it was no use. All the background noise, the beeping, the yelling, the pounding in your ears, it all went away. Peaceful, blissful quietness. 

You opened your eyes. It was you. You were staring at yourself. You took a deep breath, finally being able to breathe without sharp needles stabbing at your insides. Looking around, it was nothing but darkness. You looked down. You were floating, little stars indicating you were in the sky or at least not anywhere remote. You looked back up, realizing that there was no throbbing pain anywhere in your body either. You let out a laugh, it felt great. 

But after a moment, you looked yourself in the eyes. This wasn’t reality, was it? No, now you recalled it. Somewhere in the present, you were twitching and fidgeting in your sleep, which you fell into after a panic attack. Somewhere right now, the simulacrum you had come to adore over the last two days sat kneeling beside your bed, staring intently at you and rubbing your cheek, trying to get you to wake up. Somewhere in the present, you had a somewhat impending doom looming over you like a weight that you could not escape; a tragedy from your past that you had to experience once more. Somewhere, you were internally drowning in your thoughts. Somewhere, you were thinking of all the ways everything could go wrong. Somewhere you were-somewhere-somewhere-

You yelped in shock as you suddenly stopped floating, plummeting into nothingness. The specks of light flashed before you, disappearing after a moment, and you hit water like a rock. Upon impact, you felt nothing, but instead of bobbling on the surface and trying to swim, you began to sink under. Taking a deep, panicked breath, your head submerged. You flailed around, trying to get away, trying to get back to the surface, but you couldn’t. You looked down, and once you realized, you screamed, the air bubbles floating away in the current.

Someone was tugging you down by the ankle, someone you knew and would never forget by the look in their eyes. They had been crazy, they had been mad. They had even been labeled as insane. They had stolen from you, had tortured you, had maimed you. This person was none other than your father. You screamed again.

—---------------------------------------------------

Revenant kneeled next to the bedside, staring at your twitching body. There was a painstricken look on your face, and he couldn’t help but wonder what you were dreaming about that put you in such agony. He had been in the waiting room, wanting to check in on you, but when he heard your faint cries and saw doctors bustling around in a hurry, he got up to find you. It wasn't hard, you were making a lot of noise. But not good noises. And when the doctor tried to stop him, he just marched right past and into your room. And you. Your monitor going fifty miles an hour. You, lying in the bed and staring up at the ceiling, desperately waiting for anybody to help you as you gasped for air. He knew now that it had been a panic attack, and it would've probably been better to not yell in your face the way he had.

He continued to stroke your cheek in a circular motion, hoping that it would wake you up, but so far there had been no success. You twitched once in the face, making Revenant pull away for a second before continuing his stroking. What had triggered the attack? One thought led to another, and the match from earlier in the morning popped up. An enemy team had knocked him down shortly after leaving the building, causing him to drop you. He got pissed just thinking back to that.

—---------------------------------------------------

“Loba, leave her alone.” Revenant growled at the smirking girl. She held her hand to her mouth, feigning concern before taking three steps over to your crumpled body. Regret shot through him; he should’ve-he could’ve done more to protect you from this monster, but he had just been too slow.

“Oh, you mean this weak thing?” Loba said. When he didn’t respond, she kicked your back. You whined out, crumpling up further in your feverish state. He growled. Sure, he absolutely loved hearing your sounds, but not genuine, painful ones. Loba watched his face carefully, examining his reaction. “So, this one is close to you?” she said, internally seeming to process the newfound information. Revenant just growled once more from his crouched position on the ground.

“I’ll remember that, for sure.” Loba chuckled. Then, in one swift motion, she whipped out her pistol, shooting you directly in the head. Your body was immediately boxed up, and Revenant couldn’t help but whine softly, not loud enough for Loba to hear though. Even though he knew you would be healed up within a matter of hours after the game, it was still hard watching something he cared for be destroyed. He had witnessed it one too many times in his lifetime, and it seemed as if you had brought out his sensitive side once more.

“And as for you, demonio..” He cringed at the nickname. All he could think about was when Octane had said it earlier, and it made him red. “It’s time for you to make your grand exit!” She emphasized the word ‘grand’ just to piss him off. What a whore. “See you on the other side! Or not, I hope.” she said, snickering at her own comment before aiming her gun barrel straight at his head and pulling the trigger.

—---------------------------------------------------

The sound of feet behind Revenant snapped him out of his thoughts, and he whipped around angrily, ready to fight anyone willing to step between him and what was his. Instead of what he had expected, it was just a bunch of anxious-looking doctors. Growling, he reluctantly stood, his singular claw lingering on your cheek before finally sliding away and off. Upon withdrawing from your skin, you began to shiver slightly. Growling, he glared at the workers as they began to gather around you. Why did skinsuits always have to get in the way of everything?

The doctors looked over you, head to toe. They examined your state carefully, flinching away whenever you moved or made a sound before leaning back in and continuing. When it seemed as if everything had been checked, they nodded at one another before grabbing the sides of your bed and wheeling it forward. Shocked, Revenant gasped and growled at the same time, stepping forward and blocking their only way out. They shuttered to a stop, and it was quiet for a moment. One of your pain-filled moans broke the silence, however. “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out of-” one doctor began, but he interrupted.

“Where the hell are you taking her?” he growled in the most menacing voice he could muster. It worked, because at least two of the doctors flinched at his tone. Good. 

“Sir, we are taking her in for surgery now since it has to be done soon or-”

“What?” he growled out, annoyed. “Nonsense, she doesn't need surgery. Plus look at her state!” A few eyes fell upon you as you whimpered again. 

“Sir-”

“And what if the idea of surgery was the reason why she had the panic attack in the first place?” he said, waving a hand at your now-shivering body. The doctor paused, as did the others, and they looked at each other. “So, put the bed back-”

“Sir.” Revenant looked down at another doctor, who had now spoken. Who dares interrupt the most violent Legend there is in the Apex Ga- “When surgery was brought up, her hyperventilating did begin, thus causing the attack.” Revenant lightly growled, pleased to know he was right. “However, if she doesn’t get surgery, there’s a 76% rate that she will not survive, let alone ever play in the Games again.” Revenant stopped. He hadn’t really thought about how serious this was. Were you really hurt that badly? His LEDs longingly wandered to you, and after watching you tremble and cry out softly for a few seconds, he felt his character melt, even if just for a second, and he came to his conclusion.

“Fine.” he spat. “Do the surgery. But do it now, and get it done fast and efficiently. Or I’m slitting some necks.” A few doctors gulped as he stepped out of the way and slightly closer to their side. As they quickly rolled you out, he remembered something and shouted after them. “Oh yeah, and give her anything and everything that will numb her and keep her asleep!” One of them nodded, and he shut the curtains with a sigh. 

He dropped to the floor, slumping over slightly. The room was so empty without you. The heart monitor recording your heartbeats didn’t beep. He couldn’t hear you breathe. He even would’ve given anything in that moment to hear you whimper. Not that he liked it in this context, but he just wanted something of you. Despite it only being two days since he truly met you, he had quickly become obsessed. He just wanted you to get better already and come back to him.

—---------------------------------------------------

You were still drowning. All your warmth was gone at this point, and the water enveloping you was chilling you to the core. You had lost your voice ages ago. And your father was still dragging you under, further and further, the same crazed look in his eyes. You weren’t sure how much longer you could go on, both physically and mentally. 

You thought he was dead. He was, you had watched him die. You kept on trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t real, but your reality was becoming harder and harder to distinguish from make believe as the seconds, minutes, hours went by. The only thing that you were sure you could anchor to was Revenant. He was real, and that was the reality, not this. Still, it was hard, and you couldn’t sense him anymore. All you could sense was overwhelming doom.

Your ankle flexed, and you could feel your father’s cold hand gripping you. The past hit even harder than before. The table. Your naked body on that table. Blood pouring from your naked body onto that table. Your father leaning over the bloody mess pouring from your naked body onto that table. You threw up, the vomit floating past you and up towards the surface. It had seemed like days before the police finally had come, subduing your father and rushing you to the hospital. 

You shouldn’t have survived. It was horrible. You had stitches all along your belly, under your stomach, running along your chest. You had tried to ignore it and continue on with life, but every now and then they itched and you would have recurring flashbacks for the remainder of the day. Now they writhed and burned like snakes being set on fire along your body. You tried to reach for them, but it was no use. The water held you captive, as if it was trying to assist your father.

Suddenly, there was a jolt that ran through the water around you two, and all the liquid began to drain away. You fell down, your father still holding onto your ankle with deathly white knuckles. All your senses lagged for a second, and you began to think you had either died or you were back to reality, which both seemed great in that moment. However, there was light, and you thudded down onto an iron table, now naked and bound to the smooth but cold surface. You realized you were vulnerable, stuck, and unable to escape, and all at once your brain went into flight mode. Screaming as loud as you could for already having lost your voice, you pounded your fists in anger, grief, and fear, causing the table to rattle slightly underneath you. Someone had to hear you, someone at the very least.

Your father was in the corner of the room grabbing at things hastily. He now had a lab coat on, and when he turned around, a mask covered most of his face. He quickly approached you, leaning over you like you were a fine specimen. He then began touching you-probing you with his utensils. You wanted to move, but couldn’t. You had fallen silent at this point, watching in sheer fear as he did this to you. If no one had come to your rescue now, then no one was coming. You watched in horror as he took a blade, cutting into your lower stomach and completely pulling away your skin. 

 —---------------------------------------------------

Revenant was still crunched up against the wall of your room, staring at the floor, when he heard you scream. His head snapped up, and in one swift motion he was off the ground, making his way down the hallway towards where he had heard the sound. He turned a corner and saw signs pointing towards the surgery section of the hospital. He continued on, despite doctors noticing him and trying to stop him. But he wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t. He knew something was wrong. You were in trouble. He knew something like this would happen. He shouldn’t have left you with them. He could’ve-he should’ve-nonsense. He needed to find you.

He turned another corner, protesting doctors following in his wake. There. Through the glass, he could see you, just barely, as surgeons were surrounding you. Your face wasn’t moving, but there was a horrified look plastered to your unconscious face. What were they doing? He growled, trying the door, but to no avail. The surgeons inside began to bustle around a little when your heart monitor began to spike. You still weren’t moving, though. “Dammit (y/n), wake up!” Revenant shouted. 

A few surgeons looked back at the window, jumping when they saw him looming over their room’s entrance. His two beady eyes reflected off the glass, probably making him look like the Grim Reaper or some shit. He was right, because when he tried for the door a second time, a few of them yelped and ran towards the back of the room. Security must’ve been called, because people…no, MRVNs, came from behind, grabbing his arms with surprising strength and yanking him away. 

“No!” he shouted out, trying to muster up any amount of strength in his body to pull away from the robots’ grips. However, they must have been designed for this backlash, because they barely even wobbled at his desperate flailing. In defeat, his feet dragged along the ground as you disappeared from his sight once more. He felt weak for not being able to be there for you. It disappointed him, but also made him suddenly malicious.

They turned the corner from before. He hadn’t even been able to find out what was going on, let alone get a good look at you. “Let go of me, you idiots!” he shouted at the bots, causing a few curious heads to poke out from side doors along the hallway before withdrawing quickly. “I’m not the problem here, I’m here to protect her!”

“Sir,” one said in a monotone voice. “We have been called to take you away from this section of the Apex Legends Facility and return you to the Legends’ section of the building due to disturbance.” Revenant growled. No, that couldn’t happen, not when you were in trouble. He could sense it from you since he had first seen you in the hospital bed. He flailed in their grip once more as they neared the entrance, his feet still dragging and causing scratches along the marble floor. What a pathetic way to get kicked out.

The doors swung open around him, and the two bots literally threw him out. With a dull thud, he landed on the carpeted floor, sprawled limbs and all. Sitting up, he saw the MRVNs stare at him for a moment from the doorway, as if thinking, or pitying him, before one of them rolled back inside. The other one turned to follow, but Revenant yelled at it. “Wait.” The bot hesitated before rolling back around. He sighed deeply, already annoyed at where he had currently gotten himself. The fact that he was about to lower himself to a MRVN like that stupid Pathfinder’s level made him fume. But if it was what it took to get back to you, then he would do it. 

“Listen,” he growled out. “Do me a favor. Come and get me once that girl in the room you guys took me away from is out of surgery, at the very least.” He felt his voice grow slightly more weak towards the end of the sentence, and he internally cursed at himself for it. What a meek, pathetic thing he was becoming, all for you. 

The MRVN cocked his head to the side. “I see.” he said, a more curious tone laced with his original monotone one. “So this person is special to you?” Revenant growled but didn’t say anything more. Partially because if he did, he would be a sputtering mess, and he wasn’t ready to make a complete fool out of himself any more than he already had. The MRVN just laughed in his ‘robotic voice’ before saying, “I will. But only if you don’t disturb half of the hospital again.”

“I don’t make promises.” Revenant said in a low voice. The MRVN’s screen on its chest broadcasted a suspicious face. 

“Fine then, if you don’t want me to tell you-”

“Alright, alright, I’ll make sure not to cause a disturbance again.” Revenant said in a temper, hissing the word ‘disturbance’ and adding emphasis on every vowel. Nodding approvingly, the MRVN rolled back inside the hospital, the swinging door shutting with a calm but seemingly final thud. Revenant couldn’t help but sigh as he stood up from his graveling position on the floor. How pathetic he must’ve looked. “Stupid MRVNs.” he muttered, walking up to and leaning against a sidewall right outside the hospital doors. He would wait there until you were out of the surgery and safe. Well, as safe as you could be without him.

Then a difficult thought hit him. What if you didn’t make it out? What if something went wrong, and you found yourself dead? As much as Revenant wouldn’t like to admit it, he would be devastated. Looking into his emotions, he was still surprised at how he had become so close to you so quickly. It was like he had known you for ages, despite it only being two days. 

However, something drew him to you, some connection that couldn’t be explained by him. He felt the need to protect you, it seemed like that was his only purpose, his only motivation at this point. All he knew was that if something happened to you, it wouldn’t be the same as past ones who had left Revenant’s life. You were special; knowing you were gone would be more difficult than anything the bot had ever faced.

—---------------------------------------------------

You woke up again, vision blurry, and watched as your father continued pulling things out of you. It was too much. Sweat ran down your face, vomit was matted into your hair and crusted around your mouth, and there was blood. Too much blood. You felt yourself gag, but nothing came out. You were empty. Literally. 

You had been passing in and out of consciousness, and it seemed impossible to do so while unconscious in reality. But evidently anything was possible in dreams, especially reliving the past. You warily looked around, but there were no police, no people, no other lifeforms in the room other than for your dying body and your father. “Ah, ah, ah, more organs!” he cried out excitedly, and you felt yourself shudder. Eyes gleaming, he plunged his hands into you, and you winced at the squelching sounds that emerged from your open body. How were you not dead yet? Would your dream keep you alive until you woke up? Would you have to endure this torture for days?

His hands grasped onto something, and he pulled. You yelped out as a shock ran through your whole body, stinging you internally. He pulled again, and something snapped. You howled in pain. It felt as if you had been electrocuted and set on fire at the same time. You writhed on the table, but the burning sensation continued all over. You felt blood running down your sides, and you felt yourself fading fast. No, you couldn’t die, not now. You had to live, you had a life. The games. Your friends. Revenant. Revenant.

Enough! You roared out, thrashing until your hands began slipping out of their constraints, mixtures of sweat and blood helping slide them free. You would get out of here, whether with your own sheer will or uncanny luck. Your father clutched whatever he took from you in fear as you began to sit up. Your remaining insides that weren’t already on the floor sloshed out of the gaping hole in your stomach, but you didn’t feel. You were too numb and either way, you knew it wasn’t reality. You would be traumatized, but you would still be alive in the end.

Using your hands, you wedged your fingers into the cuffs fastening your feet to the table, and with inhuman strength, the iron snapped in half, freeing you completely. Your father was currently backed up against the wall, watching in horror as you slid off the slick table and began to stand on two wobbly legs. You were almost completely empty now, and your vision was throbbing with your pulse as your eyes locked on this man. You would kill him. 

You stumbled forward but regained balance as you took one, two, three steps towards him. He was shrinking, and it was either your mind playing tricks on you, or you were growing. Grabbing the sharp blade laying on a tray on the counter, covered in your blood, you stumbled another step forward before lifting up the blade. “No, wait-!” your father, no, this stranger pleaded at you. He covered himself poorly with his arms, but you didn’t stop.

Stabbing down the blade, it planted itself square into the top of his head, and he immediately slumped over. Good, you hit somewhere vital. You shoved it deeper, and blood emerged, pouring down the dead man’s body and onto the floor. His blood mixed with yours, leaving bright red pools of blood tainted with his ruby red liquids. As it seeped through his hair, over his face, down his lab coat, the image gave you a bittersweet feeling.

After a moment your senses regained, and all your pain came back along with regret. You fell to the floor, tears bubbling up as you leveled yourself with this man’s face. It was silly, this wasn’t reality; he was already dead. To you. To the world. But the more you understood the severity of what you had done, the more the tears emerged. He was once someone you knew, someone you loved. And look what he had become. Sure, he had deserved it, but why did it have to be like this?

His hands unclenched, and you looked down as something fell to the ground with a squishing noise. Your breath hitched as you realized what it was. The thing still beat, throbbing every few seconds. Veins pulsed gently along the piece of meat, slowly discoloring and making you come back to. That was your heart. Clutching your bare chest, you let out a soft cry as everything hit, the pain, the loss of blood and organs, all of it rushing over you. You fell to the ground, suddenly unable to breathe. You gasped, but to no avail. This was it, this was where you would die. And all you could think about was how you would never get to live your life. And Revenant. Poor Revenant, it’s a shame you have to leave him…

Everything went black. Was this death? Was this how you went? It seemed like everything had been normal until the last two days. What went wrong? Was it meeting Revenant? You felt your consciousness drop a level, and your thoughts became more sluggish. Were you losing control? You felt like you weren’t even aware of yourself anymore, just a presence floating around somewhere. It was a weird feeling, but a different one. Maybe this was all just a lucid dream? You had originally thought that, but you weren’t sure anymore.

Your thoughts began to slow, and the little voices in your head seemingly shut off. It was…quiet. Like never before. So this was it. This was death coming for you. It was a comforting finality. You let yourself relax, despite lacking a body altogether, and you let yourself drift away. Yes, nice and calm…

.  .  .  

Your peacefulness was broken by distant shouts. Pleading shouts. Bustling voices. Crying. What in the world-? Before you could even comprehend, there was a small buzz, and then a shout. “Clear!” Your whole consciousness was shocked, and it felt as if you had been ripped forward from the darkness. Opening your nonexistent eyes, you watched as the distant light slowly got closer and closer and closer until it was almost too bright…

Jolting awake on the metal table, you squinted, looking around at your surroundings. You were met with frantic gazes from what looked like your surgeons. Some stopped what they were doing and let out a pent-up sigh, others just looked overly concerned. One was holding a defibrillator, which made you frown ever so slightly.

“Ah, (y/n), you’re awake.” the doctor holding the reviving equipment said in a rush, putting it down in its container. “We thought we just about lost you there.” You wanted to speak so badly, to tell them they did technically lose you, even if just for a few meer seconds. You wanted to tell them about your brush with death, how you almost died because of things seemingly impossible to die from. But you held yourself back. “We had to replace a few things and set some bones back in order, but otherwise-”

“Where’s Rev?” you muttered out weakly.

The doctor paused, giving you a confused look. “I’m sorry, who now?”

You were exhausted, and in between listening and talking, you had felt yourself begin to drift off. You weren’t letting yourself fall asleep until you knew where he was, though. “I said, where’s Revenant?” The doctor paused, thinking for a moment before seeming to understand.

“Oh, him.” he said, frowning a little. “He seemed close to you, we just weren’t sure. He was escorted away from here, however.” You frowned deeply, frustrated. You just wanted to see the murderbot, feel his touch. He was your comfort. The doctor must’ve seen, because he waved his hands quickly. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure he’ll be back.” 

You weren’t exactly listening, as you had laid your head back down completely, letting yourself slowly drift back to sleep. You were safe now, safe from surgery, safe from your father, safe from harm. There was still a dull ache in your body, but other than that, you felt pretty brand new for what you had felt like. However, it still felt like something was missing, and you knew exactly what it was. Better yet, who it was. You wanted Revenant, and he would be the only thing that would truly heal you. It was crazy how you had gotten so attached to him in such a short period of time, but right now, you needed him.

[o0goop0o]

     .・⊹ . * i'm bunniii ! ★˖ ° . ˙ᵕ˙

    2000  ♈️  she | they  main: @kumijo

haaaii welcome to my y2k webcore/emo/special interest side blog!! i luv film + tv, early tech, being emo, and the occasional video game ;) i follow from my main so do not be aLARMED !! ☆ * .

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[wntw-virtuemoir-edition]

the love tess has for moi is……what’s that word she uses🤔💡🤗 ……palpable😌

i would love this if it were not adidas!

the pop of lime is delicious but not combined w the 3 stripes.

nony: yeah shoulder pads r in!

other nony: hair length is undetermined but based on historical evidence she goes short when she breaks up w her men, so for the tmolies sake i hope its not too short lmfao.

[mortemcatabasis]

im in my customary 1st quarter of the year malefemale hysteria phase if it stops being 20 degrees f on the godless mountain i reside on long enough i have a couple little sculptures and paintings from the past 2-3 years i havent posted yet that i'll try to put up here. ty again 2 the people that share around my art and commission me despite my horrific inconsistency this will happen again next year