#whatcha trying to say here Glitch?

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Uuuuuuuuuh

…

I don’t like what this is implying

[spdrvyn]

TSUNDERE MIGUEL O'HARA THAT IS DENYING HIS FEELINGS FOR READER WHILE HE ACTIVELY THINKS ABOUT THEM 24/7 AND KNOWS ALL THEIR CUTE LITTLE QUIRKS (READER CAN BE SPIDERMAN OR NORMAL PERSON YOUR CHOICE) PLEASE I NEED TRUNDERE MIGUEL SO MUCH IM DYING IM STARVING *sob sob cry sob*

love, your best friend Dre <3

i won't say i'm in love — MIGUEL O'HARA

(( uhhh .... i have no clue who this motherfucker is! jk lol hi tommy [ you slut ] here is your severely in denial miguel fic, spoiler free. ))

"Lyla, arrange this mess."

Miguel waved his hand at the AI, eyes focused on the glowing screen in front of him. He always had the habit of keeping a messy desktop, though it wasn't a big problem for him considering his trusty artificial intelligence assistant.

To which the trusty artificial intelligence would poke and tease Miguel in response. At times, he really wondered if Lyla was secretly being controlled by a human. A pesky, occasionally annoying, childish human that constantly pushed his buttons.

"What's the magic word, Miguel?"

He groaned bringing his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, massaging the stress lines that have formed from constantly being teased and played with.

"...Please."

Lyla lets out an electric hum, her avatar glitching into a thinking pose. She stares at Miguel with a confused look through her heart-shaped sunglasses. "Sorry. The signal in here is so bad. What was that?"

"I said, please, Lyla. Get to work."

"Oh, don't worry. I heard you the first time."

The man lets out a defeated sigh, he's given up on trying to defend himself against Lyla. Even when he's old and withered, this charade will continue like a never-ending circus show.

Multiple screens pop up in front of the AI, to which Miguel bashfully averts his gaze. He's normally organized enough, in the workplace but he's also very busy. Little things like putting files in the folders they belong simply evades his mind sometimes.

However, one file in particular stood out in front of him from the corner of his eye. It was a drive, among all the others that are colored in the regular shade of blue and labeled accordingly, this one was highlighted in pink with a little heart symbol at the end.

"Lyla, what's that?"

Her avatar glitches again into her in a sitting position, a little teacup in her hands as she takes a fake sip. "Hmm? I don't know, I don't see anything. Which one are you talking about?"

"Ay dios mío... The one in pink, Lyla. What is it?"

"Ohhh..." An obviously fake display of surprise makes itself present on Lyla's face, she opens the file. "This is a drive of all of the times you talked about that recruit. Lovingly, might I add."

Miguel's eyes darted around the screen, folding his arms over his chest. There were many, many videos of him. The scroll bar just kept going like there was no end.

Hesitantly, he pointed to one among the sea of videos and Lyla opened it. The playback goes as follows, the 'recording' is from her perspective, it seems.

Miguel is hunched over his desk, mumbling nonsense to himself until it becomes more coherent as Lyla approaches him.

"Whatcha' got there?"

The camera shifts and zooms over to Miguel's hand, to where he's holding a small tupperware. Filled to the brim with baked goodies, a small sticky note is pasted to the top of it however the writing is too tiny to make anything of it.

'They got me a gift.'

'That's the third one this week.'

His chest heaves as he lets out a deep sigh.

'...I know.'

A small moment of silence before Miguel continues speaking.

'Esto es tan tonto. I don't why they keep bringing me these... these things! I don't know why they keep smiling brighter than sun when they give them to me!'

Miguel frustratingly opens the tupperware, brings one of the pastries close to his mouth and takes a big bite. A small groan escapes his throat.

'I don't know what they're putting in these things to make them so delicious! Giving them to me, of all people. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So smart they are. Agile, strong, and capable and— and kind...'

Another bite.

'You know that you've gotten them gifts before, right?'

'But they all look idiotic next to this. Made with their precious time and care. Putting in the effort to make sure that they actually taste good and they do,'

Miguel closes the tupperware with a loud snap.

'¿A quién estoy engañando? They're amazing.'

"Miguel?"

That wasn't part of the recording. Miguel swipes at the screen and it fades out of existence, little pixels hovering in his sight before it completely disintegrates. Lyla disappears too as you swing onto the platform of his office.

He tenses up once he sees you, leaning a hand against his desk. God, he definitely did not want to look at you after what he just watched. He especially did not want to look at you because of the blush that stained his cheeks. Thankfully, mostly hidden by the darkness of his chambers.

Of course, you greeted him with the same warm smile.

"Haven't seen you all day today. Are you doing alright?"

"Fine. Doing fine. Just cleaning, why are you here?" Says Miguel, he despised how his heart pounded in his chest so loudly right now. Whenever he was around you.

Being so composed was what he was known for, what he was respected for. Yet, everytime you even look in the same direction as him, his exterior just melts.

"I just wanted to check in on you, was all. I noticed you haven't come out in a while, I brought you an empanada from the cafeteria just in case you were hungry."

You toss the small container to him and he catches it in one hand, he could hardly comprehend what was going on right now. Staring mindlessly at the box. "Thank you."

"Of course. Take care of yourself for me, I'll... head out now."

He watches over the edge as you fall off the platform, landing onto ledge that separates his desk from the rest of the room.

"Can you start ranting now? I want to get this drive up to 600 videos."

Miguel grumbles, opening the box and biting into the delectable snack before going back to organizing his desktop.

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part ii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, some fluff if you squint

word count ; 4.3k

notes ; at long last, here's the much waited part two! truly didn't expect the first part to blow up like it did, but i'm ever so grateful for all the support and the patience for those still here!

parts ; one two three (tba)

“Lyla, show me the nearest florist from here.”

“The nearest flower shop? That’s gonna be Business is Blooming on 27th Street—”

“27th Street?!” Miguel exclaims, his shock at the distance startling him and making his hands accidentally tighten the belt he was fixing much too tightly. He lets out a strangled choking sound and quickly loosens it before his legs lose oxygen, a feat that he’d hate to do just minutes prior to an event that could possibly change his life for the better. “That’s at least fifteen minutes away and on the opposite side of Clark! I’m already late, aren’t there any other ones closer?”

Lyla’s smaller holographic form pieces together on top of his full-body mirror that displays him in a formal-casual attire consisting of a cream turtleneck, black dress pants buckled with a coffee brown belt and topped altogether with a sepia overcoat that hadn’t seen the light of day since he bought it all those years ago. She puckers her grinning lips, a little amused at the rarity of Miguel in such an outfit and thinking he looks like a cup of coffee.

“Well, there’s always that crowded grocery store on Main?” she suggests as she examines her fingernails, instantly changing the pattern of them with a snap of her fingers. “But that’s gonna cost ya another twenty minutes and you’re already what—? Ten minutes late?”

Miguel fights off a groan at her teasing. “Lyla, I’m serious. Are there genuinely not any other ones around here? Any local ones? C’mon, this is Nueva York, there has to be at least one.”

“You could always try the marketplace. But then again, it’s Sunday so might not really be wise to take your chances,” Lyla shrugs.

Miguel even wonders if men these days still even have the dignity to give their partners flowers after realizing there is a significant lack of florists in today’s day and age. He wouldn’t be like them; flowers are a timeless gift everyone enjoys and he thinks if he can’t get it for you, he might as well not call himself a man at all. 

His eyes go to spot the window in the reflection of the mirror where the sun is beginning to finally set and the city’s nightlife is rising from the dead. Buildings of all heights buster from every corner and the open road that eradicates much of the land dissolves a weary pit in his stomach, obviously annoyed at the many obstacles that block his path. Miguel takes another glance at the clock, the minute hand inching closer and closer and closer to 6:00. The initial plans were to leave the apartment by 5:30, acquire some gifts for you and then travel to the restaurant by 6:00, but seeing as how he’s still trapped in his abode, Miguel thinks that he can only do so much.

But he realizes that’s for Miguel O’Hara, renowned Alchemax geneticist and full-time father. Miguel O’Hara, an everyday citizen, couldn’t possibly crunch so much in such little time.

For Spider-Man, however…

Lyla eyes him suspiciously and purses her lips when Miguel looks at his wrists and then at the window again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miguel.”

“What’s wise?” he replies coyly, going to quickly shovel off his clothes to replace them with a familiar blue and red attire.

“I know whatcha gonna do,” Lyla says and glitches around him as he searches for his suit. “But it’s not gonna end well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, mister!”

Miguel shakes her caution off, too occupied with shuffling on his superhero suit onto his body before neatly tucking his other outfit into his hammerspaced pocket. “It’ll be quick, I swear. I just need to get her some flowers and then I’ll be on my way. Lock up the house for me, yeah?”

“You’re not gonna make it,” Lyla shakes her head. “Just ditch the flowers and get her something on the way instead.”

But the last of Lyla’s words don’t make it to Miguel’s ears, as he’s already slinging and gliding himself out of the window and toward the given address of the florist. Lyla can only watch in artificial disdain as Miguel’s figure grows smaller and smaller through the passing seconds. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she flickers off the apartment lights before disintegrating.

The roar of the city life grows louder and louder the more Miguel comes closer to the center of it where the flower shop lays. People gather in clusters bustling about all over, making him a little weary of himself as he stares at them from above a high tower. He’s not exactly an ordinary passerby that can easily maneuver their way through so easily—especially not with this getup. Spider-Man is also a name that rather became widespread across the city of Nueva York, meaning that even if one person were to see the flash of blue and red, he’s up for trouble. 

The evildoers tonight seem to be at cease, thankfully. He hasn’t heard of any malicious plotting or future events that will take place today by any of the supervillains that hunt him down like deer recently. Then again, there’s always smaller crimes still waiting to be stopped, but he’s sure the cops will come around for those. Miguel convinces himself it’ll just be a one time thing.

Yet when the familiar song of police sirens blare through the city, he twitches at the thought of leaving such miscreants in the hands of police when he’s sure he can take them down like an army of ten men.

But the police have ten men on them, so truly he can just leave it alone, right? He’s essentially in front of the flower shop that’s seated below an apartment building. All he has to do is just jump down, get the flowers, and leave in the nick of time. He doesn’t have time to dilly dally with low-rated criminals. 

Then again, when he spots the gang of robbers in two white vans speeding down the road at a blistering speed without any caution for pedestrians, Miguel grits his teeth. On their tail is a rally of five police cars that keep gaining and losing them by the second and Miguel isn’t sure whether the irritation was from his indecisiveness or the fact that if he didn’t do anything, there will be consequences.

Perhaps do both to ease his mind? No, he can’t do that. You’re most likely on your way to the restaurant, all dolled up and fresh-faced. He still would need the time to fix himself up in some dingy public bathroom. A cop car that’s been hiding in the corner joins the chase—that’s surely more than enough to take care of them?

Miguel’s eyes go back and forth... back and forth between the two sights. Anxiety is doing little to help his situation and a mist of sweat begins to form on his skin the more the seconds tick by, making the innermost part of his suit much more uncomfortable and moist. A clock hangs by an awning nearby that displays the haunting time of 6:03 PM, just twenty-seven minutes shy of the designated 6:30 meeting time.

He glances one more time at the chase, swallowing a thick lump in his throat when he sees the vans hurdle full speed toward an open street of walking pedestrians, all ignorant of the fact to what beholds them in just mere seconds.

Miguel curses under his breath.

It’ll only be this for today, no more after that.

Fatigued eyes go to watch as the last people leave the restaurant, leaving you isolated in your little corner both embarrassed and hungry due to the heavy lack of food served on your platter for tonight. The other waiters begin to scrub the tables and booths free of crumbs and topple the chairs onto them, indicating that tonight has drawn to its close. You think you’ve memorized the entirety of the menu at this point, considering it’s really all you’ve been averting your eyes towards to avoid the looks of others.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the waiters and waitresses pitifully gossiping about you and a heat flashes onto your face by how incredibly desolate you’ve looked in the past three hours. Internally, you thank them for their patience and how they’ve tolerated your excuses for your date’s tardiness-turned-absence, knowing that it must be a pain to look after someone that hadn’t even ordered anything besides water for the time she had been here.

You don’t even wait for your waitress to come to your table for the nth time tonight, going by your own initiative to pack up your things. Your phone is still devoid of any notifications from Miguel, as well, even after the four calls, occasional text checkups, and last minute voicemailed question of a needed rescheduling if he so desired. 

What remains is just a grayed out Read, 7:47 PM underneath all the text bubbles.

“I… sincerely apologize if I loitered at all,” you murmur with your head half-down to the young host who shuffles the menus back into the lectern. “This was truly the last thing that I had expected from him…”

You instantly take back that statement the moment it leaves your lips. If anything, you should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Foolish you were—you’ve been with Miguel for the past three years, this was everyday behavior for him. You suppose this is how Gabriella must feel constantly and another heartache pits itself within you at the shared feeling.

The host shakes his head sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be our first case, I’m sure you didn’t have any ill intent. If anything, I’m the one sorry that he made you wait that long,” he replies with evident pity. “Whoever he is, he must be a dick for leaving such a pretty thing like you alone all night, ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s—” you fall short on your words, not even having the energy to sorely defend Miguel’s name. “Never mind…” you mutter.

“Do you need a cab?” asks the host, “Well actually, I’m about to clock out for tonight. I can drive you home, if you want. It’s the least I can do for you after tonight.”

You’re about to reply to him to turn down the offer, as you suspect he’s the type of guy to use women in these situations to his advantage, but the doors suddenly burst open to reveal the one and only in a hazy state and what seems to… flowers clutched in his hands? The petals, however, are corrugated and some have even completely drooped down from their stem. The paper that is supposed to guard them is wrinkled and torn at the corners. Almost all of the bouquet is wilted, much like your own composure for tonight. 

Miguel isn’t much better. Hair and clothes a little damp, he’s frazzled and evidently guilty, as his face pales when he sees your contrasting appearance. You’re adorned in an a-lined, half-sleeved royal blue dress that made you look so regal in comparison to your daily white blouse-black pants outfit that he's seen too much of. Not to mention additional details of your styled hair and accessories just brought out the best of your beauty that was wasted on essentially nothing this evening. 

“Mr. O’Hara…” you breathe when he passes through the door. The first thing that you notice automatically when his face properly comes into view is a sharply jagged, yet thin cut on the side of his cheek. “Did someth—”

“(Y/N), I’m so… so sorry,” he chokes out. “Something c-came up at work and they asked me to help them out… I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said no, but they were kind of on my ass about it and I got so caught up with it, so I wasn’t able to text you and—”

“She waited three hours,” the host drones and juts his thumb toward the dining area where all the chairs are laid atop the tables. Its lights flicker out, leaving only the foyer and smaller hallways lit so dismally in the night. “Until closing. She didn’t order anything in the meantime, so not only you left her alone tonight, you left her alone and hungry.”

“Hey listen, bud,” Miguel snaps at the host. He points a finger at him with irate in his eyes. “Not your business, so stay out of it.”

The host scoffs with a smirk on his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and certainly not the first time I’ve seen this happen. Guys like you always—”

You raise a hand to stop their bickering, afraid of what might happen if things escalate further as you really didn’t desire to do anything more than just sleep off your feelings. Both men stop and turn to look at you with concern on their faces.

“Do you still need that ride home?”

“Are you still hungry?”

A frustrated head shake finally silences the both of them. 

“I’m fine, thank you for the offer, though,” you say quietly to the host. You turn to Miguel, who swallows at the sight of your tired eyes. “May we talk outside? I’d hate to stay here any longer than I need to.”

Miguel attempts to excuse himself one more time, but when you begin to pace yourself toward the door without waiting for him, he realizes he can’t exactly make any more decisions of his own any more this evening. Not after choosing his heroic duties again and again for tonight instead of tending to you.

The moon and stars tonight have made their presence with the special guest of light rain coming in for a visit. The whisper of a drizzle ghosts itself on your goosebumps skin and the chill of a wind nips at your flesh. 

Miguel is quick to follow you. “I’m really sorry again, (Y/N),” he utters so softly that it makes your heart ache with familiarity. It’s the same tone of voice he’s used with Gabriella when at times, he wasn’t able to make it to her events or practices like he promised. “Are you still hungry by any chance? I know a good 24/7 diner that’s pretty close here.”

Without turning around, you politely shake your head and begin to search for any cabs coming your way. “I’ll be okay. I think I have some leftovers in the fridge that can suffice.”

The thought of you eating alone like he did on a night that you shouldn’t be sends shivers of guilt down Miguel’s spine. He curses himself at his past actions—deciding that it was stupid to catch those robbers who didn’t even put up much of a fight, to stop that gang brawl that was happening on the corner of 5th that was resolved the moment the elderly shopkeeper began to yell, to help that old lady that was certainly taking her sweet time to cross the street. They were such unbelievably mild crimes that he didn’t need to attend to, but did anyway even with the thought of you in mind.

Perhaps he should’ve had more faith in technology, because he’s sure Lyla was going to have much fun taunting him for the rest of the week. 

“You can keep the flowers, too,” you say softly when a cab begins to pull up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I have a vase to store them in unfortunately.”

Miguel’s grip on the dismal bouquet tightens, not even trying to fight your refusal as you get into a cab. He stops the door from closing just as you’re about to, trying one last time to make up for his actions. 

“At least let me pay for your cab,” Miguel whispers.

You know he’s sorry. You can see in his eyes the familiar gleam of woe that he’s given to his daughter. Your eyes go to flicker at the cut again, but you know that if you ask, he’s sure to give one his many excuses because it isn’t the first time he’s shown up with an injury before. And you don’t want to put yourself through that wall of verbal familiarity. 

With sorrow gentleness, you pry his fingers off the edge of the car and shut it, putting a physical barrier between you and Miguel. The eyes of the driver goes to pitifully glance at your state before beginning to rev up the engine.

You don’t even have the courage to share a glance towards Miguel one last time before the cab begins to drive off—your wallow of disappointment is deep enough as it is.

The rest of the week is agonizingly slow; Miguel dares to say it’s torturous, even.

He’s thankful you’re still acknowledging his existence and talking with him, but your conversations lack the usual warmth and gentle playfulness they often had. It was already lonely enough dealing with the lack of a third person like him at home, but the feeling of isolation felt even more scarring this time because when he came home late after your babysitting session, you didn’t bother with small talk with him, the only thing that made him realize he didn't have to do everything by himself alone.

You didn’t ask how the late shift was, how were the bosses treating him, if he was getting enough rest… no, you only kept him updated on his daughter's schoolwork and any future events regarding her and her only. Your words never included him or you, only finishing off with a goodbye and have a nice night.

At least you were still kind enough to fix him the usual leftovers.

Work itself wasn’t much better. Conversations were brief and the lab in which you two worked privately was filled with silence that was only broken with the occasional demands and directions of lab work. Sometimes a forced cough would sneak its way through Miguel’s lips if the silence began to disturb him too much. He attempted to make some at the beginning, asking how your day was and whether your father was on your tail again, but he was met with short, sharp responses. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m not sure.”

Never have such words been so agonizing before. Ironic that they are because Miguel often hated it when people rambled and preferred it when conversations got to the point. He supposes, though, you get to the point too fast for his liking nowadays.

When he tried bringing up an explanation for Sunday’s events, you’d quickly shut it down as tenderly as possible, saying things along the lines of “It’s alright, your schedule is hectic. I can understand.” or “I just hope your work didn’t give you too much trouble.” You’re so polite about it that it hurts him. Miguel would much rather have you lash out and insult him than have you soften the landing that does barely anything to ease him because it feels like you’ve put on that mask you put in front of others—professional and orderly—and Miguel didn’t want to be seen as just a mere coworker, let alone your boss, to you.

His pride bites at his ankles. Lies coming out of his lips too regularly, he had to fib to Gabriella the morning after her sleepover when she asked about the date that you had fallen sick and weren’t able to make it. The disappointment on her face mimicked yours too eerily. She asked him if they were going to reschedule it. Miguel could only shrug his shoulders—he wasn’t even sure if you wanted anything to do with him after that event. 

At least nothing changed with you and his daughter. He’d still home to an apartment with you helping with homework or her helping with dinner or tucking her into bed. That’s all he could ask for right now.

Miguel still had the chance to redeem himself this week. There was the annual banquet held at a banquet hall to celebrate the yearly achievements Alchemax and those associated had accomplished, as well as discussing major plans for the future. It was a boring, yet formal event used for connections and idle chatter, something Miguel usually didn’t look forward to. Lyla suggested to him to convince you to go and that Gabriella would just have a one-time babysitter while you got to enjoy (or in your case, put up) with his company as he redeemed himself best as possible. You’re not one to talk with others you’ve never met, so he knew that you would most likely stick by his side for a sense of familiarity. 

It took a while, but you murmured you’d go under your breath to shake him off your tail. Miguel was elated, but it was quickly shut down halfheartedly by the reminder that you were still somewhat upset by Sunday’s incident, saying you’d take a cab to the banquet instead of driving with him like he offered.

No matter, as long as you were there by his side.

Miguel made sure that this time, he’d be out the door much earlier than the last, promising to never keep you waiting longer than a minute. A text on his phone pings that you’re near the back entrance, where the parking lot was so it’d be easier to find you. He swerves a little too harshly into the lot—either from nervousness or excitement or both—at the mention and had spotted you near the staircase adorned in a floor-length blushed, ivory pink halter gown with luminescent tulle, making you look like the human embodiment of an ocean pearl.

His eyes are so fixed on you that he didn’t realize he almost knocked himself straight into an oncoming BMW. The owner, a crabby old man he recognizes from human resources, swears and honks at him, making Miguel hide his face before hurriedly parking a little more safely. 

When he approaches you, he drinks you in your full glory. Everything about you is so fresh… so exhilarating. You’ve done your hair with a couple of clips this time, with more subtle jewelry this time. Your makeup looks tidy and perfect and Miguel enjoys the way it emphasizes your best features instead of morphing them. If only he was wiser on Sunday, he would’ve been able to savor a different version of you in blue. 

Nevertheless, you still manage to take his breath away with just a simple breath like you always have. It’s just that it was only recently had Miguel realized you had that ability and he’d be alright experiencing it again and again if it was with you.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you say and wave a soft wave in front of his face to break his trance. Somehow, you begin to grow self-conscious. Perhaps he didn’t like it? Maybe it was too revealing… the slit at the halter neckline did somewhat peek at your cleavage and you weren’t used to baring your shoulders out. “I-is everything okay?”

Miguel blinks a couple of times. His surroundings finally come into focus like your figure, making him realize how long he had been staring. “Apologies. I… never got to tell you this on Sunday, but I hope to do it now, (Y/N)... ” he clears his throat and straightens his posture, remembering to act everything out as practiced, before softly whispering with evident fondness that, “You look beautiful, tonight.”

A spark of surprise shocks your features for a brief moment, before your usual modesty is displayed again. Eye contact is broken, for you can’t fathom the thought of someone like Miguel O’Hara, favored in every possible way, would be complimenting you so casually. “Oh um. Thank you,” you choke out halfheartedly. 

Miguel leans over slightly over your figure and tucks a lock of stray hair behind your ear. If he wanted to truly make up for what happened, he was going to have to go all out tonight, even if that meant rocketing out of his comfort zone. He just barely catches you hitching a breath at the semi-intimate of physical contact as he tries his best to hide his own when he murmurs in your ear again. 

“I’m not saying it out of manners, I’m saying it factually,” he mumbles, eyeing the passersby that stare in wonder at you. Some ego swells inside of him at the jealous looks that are given to him. “You’ve bewitched me and many others already.”

You stray your gaze away at him with your hands fiddling at the skirt of your dress. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for the dress, by the way,” you murmur timidly. “I’ve never heard of a brand called Lyla, but I admit, this dress of theirs is rather nice.”

Miguel furrows his brows at the mention before Lyla briefly appears on your head, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up before disappearing. It doesn’t take Miguel long to realize that Lyla had shipped something so pristine to you without his permission, though he supposes that she had done him and you a favor given how majestic you look tonight. 

He lets out a soft breath of a chuckle before shaking his head. Maybe he’ll give her some upgrades in return.

You turn your head behind you, not knowing what he was looking at. “Is something wrong? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, no. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts…” Miguel interjects before offering his arm to you. “We should get going. I’d hate for a dress like this to go to waste for only my eyes.”

Internally, Miguel wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and have you all for himself, savor your every move tonight, have you and him be the only ones in this place. He didn’t want anyone to look towards your direction and have you look at anyone else besides him. A little venomous thought of people not realizing you had so much more potential than they realized embeds in himself, and that their awe for tonight was too artificial. He wanted more and to give you more, but then again, he’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, the impossible man that somehow does it all and faces the consequences head on. He can only offer a regular day citizen like you so much.

But for now, he’ll make do with what he can. Not as Spider-Man this time, but as Miguel O’Hara.

a/n ; hi yeah don't panic, there'll be a part three lmfao i lied lolol. most likely it'll be the last part to this little series i've got going, too, since i think making it a fully fledged series would kind of lead some things astray for me. that doesn't mean the end of the miggy o'hare writings, however! still will most definitely attempt to write for him bc bro's GLORIOUS

thank you all for the patience for part ii, and i hope to see that part iii comes out asap! i'll give updates for it as always, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and infinitely appreciated ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ !

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @toofsfairys @raeisthebae (for those with strikethroughs, i'm not able to tag you for some reason :(!)

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 16: Fantasy Masks

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix 

Read Swapboys | Read Fantasy Masks | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched | PNPT | Septicheroes | Fantasy Masks

Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata  

"News! We have news!" Jackie runs across camp, looking for the two strangers. "Bro? Alt? We have news!"

It is once again getting close to night, evening making it cool again. Where could those two be?

Turns out they were back at the training grounds, Bro having convinced Alt to try to spar him, but letting Alt use his magic.

Alt is glitching around while Bro attempts to hit him, giggling. "C'mon bro~ You can do better than that!" Alt teases.

But, when they hear Jackie's voice, Alt is temporarily distracted and Bro uses this as a chance to hit him in the stomach, making Alt wheeze and then fall on the ground. Bro rests the practice sword on his shoulder with a smirk.

Alt frowns and rubs his stomach, "No fair!"

"S'all fair in battle, lil bro!" Bro grins.

Alt snorts and glitches to his feet and dusts himself off. "I think Jackie is calling for us. We should you know- probably go more towards camp- and the fire."

Bro whines slightly and then puts up the sword, "Yeah yeah okay..." Alt shakes his head with a laugh and starts back towards the main part of camp, Bro quickly following after him.

They soon run into Jackie. "Were you two on the field this whole time?" Jackie asks, laughing. "Ah, after my own heart!”

Alt grumbles, "Bro dragged me over."

Bro laughs, "You had fun though!"

“Alright, but onto the news. Are you heading to the fire? Alright. We're diverting to the skull for this. There's a chance that we found your man. The one you were hunting."

Both Alt’s and Bro’s eyes widen as Jackie tells them the news. "Oh- well... w-we should get right to that then." Alt answers.

Jackie nods sharply. “I’ll explain more when we get there.”

He takes the two of them to the dragon’s skull, entering through a gap where it meets the spine. Inside, Jameson, Henrik, and a woman in a dog’s mask are waiting. There are also three birds. Pigeons, with fancy curly feathers and leather collars around their necks.

Here they are, Jameson says.

“Ah, Bro and Alt, welcome,” Henrik says. “This is Anna. She is in charge of our birds.” Anna nods. “And her birds may have found your man. But we need you to be sure.”

Alt and Bro walk in and Bro immediately takes charge and nods to Anna, "Alright, whatcha got Miss Anna?"

“Heh.” Anna smiles, a bit shy in the face of the strangers with new magic. “These birds are trained to carry messages, but sometimes we can attach these special charms for searching.” She carefully pulls one of the collars off. There’s a small, sparkly bit of rock attached to it. “We tune these to look for unusual things—in this case, strangers—and when the birds find something that the charm marks as matching our expectations, the birds return here. What we need you to do is touch the stone, and you will see what the bird saw that was marked.”

Alt steps up now and offers his hand to Anna, "...I... I know Mag the best. Just in case he's in disguise... I should be able to tell."

Anna nods. "Okay." She carefully removes the two other collars from the birds. "Here. One at a time."

When Alt tries the first charm, it's like he has a movie projected directly into his mind. This one shows the center of a town, where a man is using magic to juggle water and fire. An impressive feat, but not something out of bounds of this world's magic, and it's definitely not Mag, even in disguise. The second charm shows an old palace of some kind--not quite in ruin, but clearly not being kept. The bird sits on a windowsill and looks through the glass. A door opens and out walks two men: one wearing a flowy shirt, a capelet, and a mask shaped like half a cat's face, the other wearing a green tunic and cloak, with a golden circlet hanging from his belt. The third is not important. Alt knows Mag the moment he sees the second one.

As soon as Alt sees the half cat mask he gasps and tries to shock away from the stone. "T-That one- that's him! And...i... I think he's... I think he's with the king...? Or... someone with a fancy crown thing-"

"The King?" Jackie gasps.

"The King!" Henrik cries.

Jameson leans forward. Hand it to me, I can confirm it's him and not some other noble.

Alt shakily hands the stone to Jameson, a huge pit forming in his stomach.

Jameson closes his eyes and brushes against the stone. When he opens them again, he nods firmly. It's definitely him.

"I... take it that it's not good they're together..." Henrik says slowly.

"They both have enchanter-sort powers," Jackie says. "Is one of them... controlling the other? I don't think either of those options are good. If Magnificent is controlling the King, he is essentially controlling the kingdom. And if it's the other way around... well, the King would love to use whatever resources he has."

"Perhaps they are not one controlling the other," Henrik says. "Perhaps they are working together."

Jameson shakes his head. I don't think it's in the King's nature to share power.

"Neither is Mag's..." Alt mutters. He grabs his arms and squeezes, "But this... can't be good. How did he get to the king already?? Knowing him- he's gonna try to drain him or puppet him and then- he could fuck over an entire kingdom!" Alt is trying so hard not to panic right now. He looks desperately at Anna and the others, "H-How far away is this palace?"

"They're at the palace?" Jackie repeats. "Well, that's in Suilthair, and that's two whole weeks away--" Jameson shakes his head.

It wasn't the palace in Suilthair. It was in... a smaller town. And the Dragon's Teeth mountains were visible on the horizon.

"Perhaps... that is the summer palace in Killithair?" Henrik speculates. "Do you remember that, Jackie?"

"Oh yea!" Jackie nods. "Four years ago that whole town got emptied out. So many people lost their homes and livelihoods, but there was never any fuss about it? I suppose the King was influencing others to think it wasn't as big a problem as it was. If that's the case, we only have to leave the mountains and foothills; it should only take one or two days."

"Days?!" Alt grips at his head, "Oh nonono- we might lose them by then! Who knows where the hell they're going! I mean maybe the main palace but you said that would take weeks??? Mag might already be using the King l-like his plaything! Trying to turn him into a cat or destroying his mind and-" Okay now he's definitely panicking.

"Alt, calm down." Jackie reaches out and places his hands on Alt's shoulders. Henrik pushes him back a little--they're not sure how Alt feels about touch, after all--but Jackie keeps talking anyway. "There's only one road to Killithair. We go there. If they're not there, they had to have taken the road. So we'll follow them. It's a problem, yes, but not as much as you think."

Honestly the King being a cat might be beneficial to the kingdom, Jameson says half-jokingly.

"It would certainly satisfy Marvin, who keeps saying we need to kill him," Jackie agrees.

"The jokes are not helping, I think," Henrik says, glaring at the two of them.

Alt glitches back some at being touched, staring at Jackie and Henrik with wide eyes. He tries to calm down his breathing, "We'll be behind a day at best... how can we catch up to them? I... I can't let Mag get his claws on an entire Kingdom! Hurting versions of ourselves... that we could handle! But now- hundreds- thousands of lives are at risk!"

"Do you think he can control the kingdom from an abandoned city or while on the road?" Henrik asks. "No. He will need to go back to Suilthair first! Find some way to have himself established. And we can catch up."

"Though we will be riding hard..." Jackie admits. reluctantly.

Couldn't Marvin help close the distance with his magic doorways? Jameson asks.

"To cover a day's worth of distance?"

Not on his own. But do you remember that night when he used the magic in the dragon's bones to shield the whole camp?

"Ah--I would remind everyone that Marvin nearly drained himself after that!" Henrik points out.

Alt's eyes flicker back and forth as he thinks, "I can help! I can supply him with my magic or- or something!"

"But then you'd be defenseless, Alt!" Bro argues, "If we just try to jump to where they are, we can't stop them and get Mag out of here with you drained!"

Alt grips harder onto his arms, gritting his teeth. " You guys have no idea how- how sneaky he is! I... I don't want to chance it- he's probably already manipulating the king somehow! I- i just..." He hits his head slightly and shouts, "argh! We should have looked right away!"

"Alt, how would we have found him???" Jackie emphasizes. "There's not even a village within a day's journey anymore! We sent the searcher pigeons as soon as we knew Magnificent was here! Even if we started looking earlier, we wouldn't have found him much earlier!"

"Take a moment to breathe, Alt," Henrik says slowly. "If you panic, you cannot think straight. Deep breaths. In and out."

I know it's frightening to think about, Jameson signs gently. But to be honest... Glasúil cannot be much worse off. The man we have in charge is already willing to maim others to keep them under control. And Magnificent cannot act quickly by himself in the middle of nowhere.

Alt looks between everyone as he hugs himself tightly. Slowly, he tries to breathe, blinking panicked tears out of his eyes. Eventually, he starts to calm down and Bro hovers next to him, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "...it'll be okay Alt... we'll find him. He's probably just as out of his depth here as we are. We forget it but- he's only as old as me, JJ and Jackie. He's used to modern things... he's not gonna be going through this easy."

Alt laughs a bit quietly at this before looking back at the others, "...okay... there's only one road from this...town to the capital then...? ... we... we can do that- i'm sure we can catch them... sure..." He doesn't look super convinced but he's trying not to spiral again.

"That's it." Jackie smiles reassuringly. "If you go into this expecting doom and death you're going to get doom and death. An attitude shapes things more than you'd expect. Don't look at the horse before it cries."

Henrik raises an eyebrow. "Will they understand what that means?"

"...fuck, I didn't think of that, uh..." Jackie scrambles for another way to phrase it. "I mean... don't prepare for results... before you see results?" Jameson laughs silently.

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch!" Bro tries to provide cheerfully.

Alt chuckles and finally nods, "Alright... we- we just gotta prepare then..." he's quiet for a second, "...how the fuck do we prepare to follow after them?"

"Byyyyy grabbing a wagonful of weapons!" Jackie says cheerfully. "Arming to the teeth! Marvin did establish earlier that magic is probably slower than arrows!"

In all seriousness, we could try to outnumber them, Jameson says. Who should we take?

"Whoever is willing to go out and help the King," Henrik asks. "Which is a small amount. Marvin may be the only one in camp that thinks we should kill him, but the others would not be kind to him, either."

"Should Marvin come? Would he take the chance to try and kill him again?" Jackie wonders.

Maybe we take him so that he can deal with the other man, Jameson suggests.

"Marvin is powerful so that might help..." Alt mutters, starting to pace, "But- Mag has a thing against other versions of himself so we might just be getting him in danger but i think having more magic around would be good??" He eventually shrugs, "I guess it'll be up to him... why isn't he in here with you guys anyways? and Chase?"

"Yes, why didn't they come?" Henrik wonders.

"Uh..." Jackie squirms. "I may have... gotten so excited that I... Once I got these guys, I... forgot to tell them..."

"Sisters, Jackie!" Henrik cries, exasperated.

"Hey, I mean--Chase isn't even part of the leadership, technically."

I'm not either, and neither is Anna, Jameson says. Anna, silent this whole time, raises her hand in greeting when she's acknowledged.

"But you two are administrative, you know?"

"Oh yes, let us not go get Chase, whose doppelganger is here visiting!" Henrik scoffs. "Or Marvin, who is part of the leadership!"

"What the fuck is a doppelganger?!"

"That is what you focus on? Really?"

"It means copy," Bro laughs. "Hey man i get it- ADHD, amirite?"

"They don't know what that is, Chase," Alt says with exhaustion.

"Oh yeah! ...uh- brain sometimes no think good- too fast! Thoughts go everywhere... im the same way!"

"You have scattered thoughts too? Oh, that makes so much sense," Jackie says, sounding relieved. "So you get it, then, with this... aidéhaishdé."

"... Gesundhiet?" Bro laughs.

"Your thoughts would not be so scattered if you remembered to take the mind soother," Henrik mutters.

"You understand the problem with what you just said, right? 'Remember'?"

"Why did you just say 'health' in Alterdan?" Henrik asks Bro, confused.

"Oh I thought that was- nevermind," Bro giggles.

In any case, I think they're probably at dinner by now, Jameson says. We should head over. Tell them all this. They can help us prepare.

Alt nods to Jameson, "Okay... that's a good idea then."

"We just have to accept that some of this translation stuff is strange," Jackie chuckles. "We'll need Marvin to renew the spell soon, maybe he can do that at dinner."

Are you coming, Anna? Jameson asks.

"I'll put the birds away, you all go on," she says. Very well. Jameson starts walking towards the entrance. Come on.

"He was making fun of how you said ADHD," Alt explains to Henrik and Jackie as he follows Jameson out.

"No I wasn't- Alt!" Bro cries as he tries to catch up to his brother.

"Oh, was I pronouncing it wrong?" Jackie says, following the rest of them. "Let me try again. Aydihayshdi. Aay-dee-haytsh--dee. Aydihayshdi. Ay dee haych dee. It's a very strange word, am I getting closer?"

“Yeah that sounds good dude,” Bro laughs nervously. “When it’s said fast altogether it kinda sounded like a sneeze-“ He comments and then tries to demonstrate with an exaggerated fake sneeze, mushing all the letters together.

Henrik just rolled his eyes and took up the end of the pack.

Marvin and Chase were indeed at the cooking fire. Dinner was the same as last night--though with slightly different amounts of the meat and slightly different vegetables in the stew. Seems this world wasn't much for variety. Makes sense, when you don't have the luxury of food imported from all over the world. The two of them were talking quietly. It sounded like... something about kids?

Alt grabs some food really fast, not even paying attention to what he’s getting before going to find Marvin and Chase. He blinks as he finds them and tries to walk over quietly. What are they talking about…?

"—it's really not a problem," Chase is saying. "Sure, there's trouble sometimes, but there's trouble with all kids. Just because Amabel is a bit different doesn't mean she's a problem."

"Oh," Marvin says softly. "That's... not how they saw it."

"Well... they're terrible, then," Chase states.

Marvin laughs. "Oh I knew that. Oh!" He jumps a little, noticing Alt. "H-hello, there, uh—hello. I mean, hello. I... see you have food."

"Hey, Alt." Chase smiles. "Good to see you. How are you doing? We're just talking about my kids."

“Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to… intrude-“ Alt says, face flushing red. “We were just trying to find you guys-“

"Why? Did you guys want to do something?" Chase asks. "It's getting a bit too dark for shooting targets. I don't even like to hunt at this time."

At that moment, Jackie hurries over. "I'msorryI'msorryIforgottogetyou!" he shouts. "Okay. So. Basically..." and he proceeds to--impossibly fast--fill in the two of them on the situation. Somehow, they keep up.

Alt looks at him with amazement, “Dude how did you do that- that was impressive.”

Bro hurries over after, having of course, grabbed something to eat to. “What’d I miss?”

“Well these two are caught up.” Alt explains.

"That's... bad," Marvin says. "In so many ways."

Alt looks at Marvin, “…it’s up to you if you wanna join us or not… But I have to warn you that Mag… he might try to go after you.”

“And of course other chase is welcome to join too if he wants!” Bro adds.

"Of course I'm coming," Marvin says, sounding almost arrogant. "I'm our best magic-wielder, and this is somethingvery important."

Henrik and Jameson have joined the group by now. "Are you going to try and kill the King if you come?" Henrik asks.

"...nnnno," Marvin says slowly.

"Really?" Jackie asks, sounding skeptical.

"I'm not going to!" Marvin defends himself. "But I have a question. If the King ends up weak, are we at least going to try and capture him?"

"Oh, of course," Henrik says.

"Hmm. Alright." Marvin nods.

We still need to be careful around him, Jameson says. If he's being controlled, that control will snap once Magnificent leaves this world with these two. And that means he'll be free to exert some control of his own. He shudders.

"Um... I'm coming too," Chase says awkwardly. "I want to help."

Alt sits down and nods, “…I dunno how powerful the King is… but I’m guessing pretty powerful… Mag is powerful too… but it depends on how much magic he can get. I just hope he hasn’t been hurting any innocents…” Alt sighs, poking at his food.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Alt.” Bro reassures him, “Maybe Mag has finally met his match! Like distorter- he gave him a run for his money and he’s all- mental magic-y too!”

"I wouldn't want to meet anyone called the Distorter," Chase mutters.

The King's greatest strength is his mind reading, Jameson says. You won't even realize he's doing it. So at the very least, your Magnificent won't be able to get close to him in disguise.

"Do you... know what... what else he can do, Jameson?" Marvin asks gently.

Jameson pauses. He can subtly influence people to feel or want whatever he wants them to. And if needed, he can command your body with his words. The latter is harder to resist than the former.

Alt shudders at this and grips at his wrist, digging nails into it. “That’s… that’s awful… at least with Mag… I usually know he’s doing it…”

Jameson takes a deep, shuddering breath. It does lead to a lot of anxiety.

"But in a combat situation, it won't matter if he reads our minds, will it?" Chase figures. "I mean, he'll just know we're going to attack. Which--he would know a second later when we actually attack."

“Yeah! That’s a good way to think about it, Other Chase!” Bro exclaims, “mental shit only goes so far! If we need to we can beat the shit out of them and then they can’t use their brains much anymore! Or! We do what Dr. J has been teaching us alt! We just fill our minds with a bunch of nonsense so they can’t grab anything to control!”

Alt nods absent-mindedly, rubbing at his wrist. “…it’ll be tough- facing off against two mental magicians… especially if one of us is extra susceptible…” He grits his teeth, thinking of that trigger Mag used on him in the last world. He didn’t even know he did that!

Jameson looks at Alt and tilts his head. He smiles softly. Don't worry, you won't be the only one.

"You're coming, Jair?" Marvin asks.

I feel like I must. At the very least, I might be able to distract the King. He looks at Bro. Also that's a very good idea when it comes to the King. I know that sort of trick works.

"We still need to know how to get there," Henrik says.

"This time of day we can't do much," Chase points out. "Wandering around in the forest at night is a good way to fall into a stream and catch the shivering."

"Tomorrow, then. We must move at first light to get the most use of it."

Alt blinks, “so all of you are coming? That’s… I dunno why i didn’t think you would…” He smiles. Especially nodding his thanks to Jameson.

“First light- ugh I hope you guys have coffee or something,” Bro groans.

"Kohf--oh! I can ask Nemet!" Henrik says excitedly. "She brought some once, perhaps she has more? Though I'm not sure where she would get some all the way up here."

Bro smiles at Henrik then rubs at the back of his head. “S’not much we can do now then rest and prepare then…”

“yeah…” Alt sighs, looking out at the forest, as if he see Mag and the trouble he’s causing.

"We might even try to bring others, if we can," Jackie says. "But again, not many people will be eager to help the King in any way."

"Unfortunately, yes, rest and prepare." Marvin nods. "I want to help you all get there fast so I should probably rest up right after dinner."

"Let's all do that," Chase says.

“Are you planning on doing that- doorway thing the others mentioned?” Alt asks.

"A magic doorway? Yes." Marvin taps his finger to his amulet. It comes away glowing. He traces a square on the bone with light, and the interior of it disappears, revealing an empty space and a forest floor far below. The box soon disappears. "Imagine that, but big enough for a person. It takes a lot of energy."

“I can imagine…” Alt winces, “…I dunno how compatible our magic is but… hopefully I can help somehow.”

Marvin smiles. "Thank you. I appreciate that. Don't push yourself too hard either. I understand you need your power to get home. Be careful, alright?"

“Yeah… you too.” Alt tells Marvin.

Dinner is finished quickly, and soon, everyone departs for their own tents, ready to rest for tomorrow.

The boys try their best to get rest, but Alt can’t find a way to stop worrying, getting into a very restless sleep.

-----------

The sun is setting through the windows, casting long shadows into the old palace. The King stares out one of them, then turns and heads farther back in. They'd found a series of bedrooms in the west part of the palace.

The King claimed the one in the corner. An easily defensible position for his first night sleeping with a possible traitor nearby. Speaking of whom... "Are you planning on retiring soon?" he asks, turning to Magnificent.

Magnificent has been probably skimming through books or scrolls or whatever is lying around. He waves a hand at the king and nods. Seems like they’re gonna lose light soon anyways. “Oh- I suppose so. The day ends so quickly without electricity… never thought I’d take it so for granted.” He sighs dramatically, flopping onto the bed he claimed.

The King blinks. "I never would've believed your flameless lights that stay on through the night if I hadn't seen them in your memories first." He briefly turns back to the window. "I wonder... is it so bright that it blocks out the stars?"

“Sometimes-“ Mag answers truthfully, “Too many lights make it harder to see them. Depends on how close you live to a city.” He stretches and sighs, “oh this is already so much better than outside-“

The King’s quiet for a moment more, then turns and heads for his own bed. "I'll be sleeping now, too."

Mag opens an eye to study the king. He knows he needs to get a leg up on him before long… but without the king he’d be lost. He needed to get back to the kingdom… where he could rule. Ah, that thought brought a smile to his face.

"The glass does keep out the worst of the weather," the King says. "Which is good. If there is a storm, we'd rather be in here than out in the rain." He lies down. "But I doubt there will be one." And closes his eyes. "A good night, I suppose."

“Hm? Oh yes- …you as well.” Mag felt a bad taste in his mouth saying that. But, best to keep things cordial between him and the king… for now. After a while, Magnificent finally lets his eyes drift shut, curling up on the bed to sleep.

[tallsc]

HESHFSFWEAFBESJL TEASER? SATURDAY? AAAA?

sdfnlafena I'm not much of a theorist but I'm tryna look at what all the new scenes are here, if this is hard to understand sorry but i'm so excited idk how coherent this'll be, also spoilers for the teaser below bc watch it watch it watch it

First bit, chosen fighting in some city, no view of who's fighting them but quite possibly something to do with Rocket TV if we're right on all that, also their was either a blast of light at the end or a fire hydrant exploded idk, I think it was the fire hydrant

Orange is scribbling something very quickly, and it looked kinda like they were trying to attack Alan? I don't think that's an old scene but it's weird they kinda just swiped at the mouse with a pencil and rolled like they were fighting

Is the Chosen breathing fire in a circle new? I don't particularly remember that animation but it also looks like the same place as AvA 5 happened, so if that is new we might be going back there

SEASON 2??? We getting multiple episodes of this? Yo?

Computer thing that I can't remember the name of being stabbed I think

Orange dodging something that idk it looks sorta like Mango's magic at one point, it looks too black to be Dark's blade but doesn't at least seem as powerful as vortex stuff, probably something new?

Is Chosen? Shooting Orange? Chosen whatcha doin? Why? But also is that Chosen?? I'm pretty sure that's the only instance in the new scenes with 'Chosen' having a filled-in head, is that a different character? Victim??? Or is it just an art inconsistency?

Chosen's tryna go back to Alan's PC but not doing good ig :( Glitchy still reminiscent of Mango but this also seems not quite the same, more occasional but severe glitching rather than constant glitches

Altogether I'd say my final decision for what I think of this teaser is AAAAAAAAAAAFBISFEBAFEAFES YO NEW AVA STUFF dark might be straight-up dead they never showed up except in prior scenes but YOO AVA

[youronlyauthor]

Another Glitch? Hobie B./ Spiderpunk x FemReader

pt. 3

15+ (cussing,violence,throughout story )

(Continuing)

you drag Gwen into your room next to her room. Without realizing Hobie and Pavi following behind. You use a loud whisper tone “GWEN NEVER AGAIN HE CANT KNOW YET” she whispered back “WHY NOT WHEN HE CAME IN HE SEEMED JEALOUS AT THE THOUGHT OF YOU LIKING SOMEONE” you sigh and sit on your bed “Because I actually like him and what happened to my relationships and all that in the past just worries me that it will repeat, I trust him I just don’t trust or really know how he truly feels for me so just please give it time.” Gwen pouts “finee but you have to help me with miles” you pout “well you almost blew it for me you’re lucky I’m nice.” She looks confused “that’s a yes.” She does a happy dance as you softly smile she then looks at you and asks “how long have you liked him?” You think for a moment. “Like maybe 5-6 months?” Hobie outside the door whispers to Pavi the que to leave, they leave and you hear something and then see Peter B. Down the hallway “Peter did you hear something?” He looks at you “no?” You look confused and just brush it off and go back to your room.

(With Hobie)

Hobie looks stunned while Pavi does a happy dance. “When are you gonna tell her???” Hobie looks up at him then says “gotta drop some hints before confessing Pavi” he looks excited because Gwen was trying to tell Hobie You like him but that also means Pavi and Gwen gonna be shipping y’all big time together.

(Later)

You’re walking down one of the hallways in y’all’s building when you run into Hobie. You almost fall over but he catches you. “Thanks sorry I wasn’t looking where I was-“ you look up to see it’s Hobie and he realizes it’s you. “Hey Hobie didn’t see you there, whatcha up to?” He looks down to you “oh hey I was lookin for ya, i’m bouta just go to my world for a littl’ and was wonderin if you’d wanna tag along wit’ me?” You felt surprised he was looking for you. “Yeah sure I haven’t been there in awhile.” He lights up “great, meet me over ere’ by th’ entrance okay love?” You got butterflies at the nickname “yeah I’ll be ready in a sec” you hurry to the bathroom change and put on your mask. When arriving you notice his suit was a little ripped up. As you and hobie left, Gwen and Pavi followed behind. You and Hobie enter the portal, Gwen and Pavi don’t follow since they don’t wanna get caught. “I forgot what this place was like” you say looking around. While swinging around out of nowhere Hobie Webbed you closer to him and you’re caught off guard. “You seem so far away swinging over there” your face is red underneath your mask. “You wanna go to a roof?” He looks at you and smiles underneath his mask, “where do you have in mind?” He follows you as you go to the building he used to perform in, and land on the roof. As he lands next to you he puts his hands to his pockets and lands gracefully. “I used to perform ere’ ” you look at him surprised “this world looks exactly like my old one” he looks at you surprised “it had a Spider man but he was..I don’t really know how to describe it.” He looks at you confused “well love ya with us now so don’t give a scooby doo bout him.”

(got kinda tired of this story so ima end it here unless y’all REALLY want me to make another part)

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Anyway. Those that think this silent guy (Patient whatever I guess) is Gregory... literally how.

This is government mandated fake therapy. What we're listening to, is severe malpractice with the intention of trapping people in confessions, and keeping an eye on their lives, habits, interests, thoughts and feelings. This is not counselling. This is not therapy. This is surveillance.

And I will not be referring to them as anything but Malpractice CDs and Interrogators. Anyway.

Literally, how would some random kid be getting the exact same interrogator as Vanessa? Why would they be getting the same company mandated interrogator as a Fazbear employee. We know they're the same interrogators from the voices (that should be way more different just saying these are odd choices man) and the fact they're both getting given extremely private information directly from Fazbear themselves. Like. Come on man. Yeah the chair is probably too big for them or something and they could be a younger person, but you're telling me a ten year old is able to be company mandated to have a Fazbear brand interrogation? Nah I don't believe that.

Unless Gregory's guardians are particularly easy to sway or Fazbear won some kind of legal thing to make him have to go to these meetings, I don't believe that at all. Even if he's going voluntarily, why would they be interrogating him? If he's going voluntarily, outside of it being mandated, then just. Why. Surely some random kid that's apparently a tech genius or some shit would be able to out them for the malpractice if so desired.

ANYWAY

Something I did notice outside of the nonsense, one of the interrogators talking to Vanessa says the building they are currently in is where the messages are being sent to and from. With that in mind, where the fuck are they?? Like... another one is like "have you heard of the Pizza Plex?" so it's not there. My guess is this is before Vanessa transfers to the Plex, or some of these are in the Plex while others aren't. Why would they be interrogating in the Plex? I dunno. Beats me man. Ask whoever wrote this. Unfortunately, 'its Fazbear' is a fucking catch all for weird decisions.

Next thing I noticed, was that Vanessa was talking about her job being important and that there's a non-disclosure agreement. Dude. Whatcha doin' Ness? You're clearly not a night guard when you're typing on computers all day. Programming Glitch into the Help Wanted game? Finishing the game? Developing the MXES or a way to quarantine Glitchtrap?

They say she's transferring to a different location soon, not that she's got a new job. Which makes me wonder what her job actually is?? It implies she's not changing jobs and she's doing the same thing so if this is when she transfers to the Plex, then night guarding must just be the cover up some higher up gave her to keep her under surveillance I guess? What would she have to be searching for on the internet to do her job though? What's so important that Fazbear is monitoring even encrypted conversations? Was this all some big elaborate scheme the company did to get another killer on the loose? Did they recognise the kinds of conversation she was having, and were like 'oh okay well the Tubes are full of bodies already so I guess she's getting interrogated!!' Like. Head in hands.

This one guy is hacking the Plex? Manipulating Vanessa? Or manipulating a third person to manipulate Vanessa? Luring interrogators to the Plex and killing them with animatronics?

Nah. This is just ridiculous. I suppose if it is supposed to be GGY or Gregory then it explains how grown ass adults were lured to the Plex at night by a child, (since it's their job to SPY not HELP) but like. Why. What was the point. For fun? Killing Fazbear interrogators for shits and giggles? Yeah okay fine but like. The rest?? Doesn't make sense??? It just. Feels like there's nothing going on here but it's trying really hard to seem like there is, ya know? I don't get it. Why would they even bother with Vanessa at that point? Does she know who they are or is this an attempt to pin shit on her with Vanny?

It feels like the more layers that get added to this, the less it feels like a story to me. Like, there's a lot of death and manipulation and shit going on but... where's the point? This doesn't feel like it's leading anywhere??? Like... what's even the end game here?? Where are we supposed to be going with this???

Honestly, the silent guy making software that asks and responds in a way that makes the interrogator feel it's a back and forth in their head, gave me Mimic or Story Teller vibes man. Did they just... make the Mimic? Or another Mimic? I don't get it. This feels like it's supposed to mean something but doesn't actually give you anything to draw a meaning from other than 'luring interrogators to their death and manipulating people'. Silent guy as a Mimic or something? Trying to train the Mimic? This Guy is making the animatronics more 'eerie' so like. Just odd then? Just a bit off? Alright man...

This is making me tired man. I can't think of a single satisfying narrative or conclusion to draw from this, and I'm not sure if I care to at this point. I got my information on Vanessa and Luis and just. Lore stuff for a story that's going nowhere I guess?

I'm just tired man. I'm interested what conclusions other people have drawn from this using other evidence from wherever though! I might not be able to form much of something in this, but if someone else can, I'd love to know what these CDs lead people too!

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 4

... Skeppies- not in his house... he was in his mansion. Now he is in a mine. That’s not normal, or shouldn't be normal. Who knows what’s normal really. “I reject normal,” He muttered to himself before turning and yelling down the mineshaft “Baaaaaad... Very funny Bad!” He started back down the mine shaft, Bad had to be hiding around a corner up here somewhere. “How did you do it?... Bad?” No response “Bad! Stop hiding already, I know you’re there.” 

Wait, what was this. Skeppy stopped and squinted at the mineshaft walls. He’s a literal diamond, Skeppy knows a thing or two about rocks, and this was a rock he had never seen before. The whole wall was made up of large patches of this dark scaly stone. He knocked his knuckles against it, his diamond skin barely scratching it. “What the hell?” He said and was disappointed when Bad didn't interrupt with his typical ‘language.’ This gave him an idea. He cursed louder. Still silence. Skeppy frowned. Maybe Bad really wasn’t there. 

“Well, I'm leaving now. Last chance.” Still nothing. There was a sinking feeling in Skeppy’s chest. Bad wasn’t there. If this wasn’t a prank then what was this. Skeppy hurried down the mineshaft wasting no time in finding the ladder and climbing out into the sunlight. He exited the little house at the top only glancing back down the mine shaft once through the glass floor. He came out on the edge of a bay, mountains and trees behind him. There was some dirt scaffolding laid out in a massive square across the water, and a nether portal and some chests could be seen on a tiny island in the distance.  

He blinked at it for a minute and then Skeppy did what he always did when he didn’t know what to do. He started yelling.

“Hey yooo! Anyone, there!? Anyone out there?! Hellooooo, I’m talking to you!?” His voice echoed back to him and the water lapped softly against the beach. Skeppy scowled “Well, if you don’t want to be friendly then I’ll just leave. How about that? You hear me? I’m leaving, never returning. Not coming back.” He shouted for the benefit of any hypothetical hiding onlookers as he marched into the forest and started climbing the hill. 

The forest quickly thinned and the hill became more of a cliff, and soon he was climbing over rocky boulders and through flat patches of blue-green grass with the occasional grazing sheep. He came over the next hill and stopped short. The mountain dropped off in front of him and in the plain below looked to be some kind of a village. He squinted; a collective of houses built around what looked to be some kind of pole. 

He heard a bleating sound behind him and turned just as something white with horns rammed into him, knocking him off the cliff and sending him tumbling down the rocky slope, head over heels, till he slid to a stop at the bottom. He looked up at the blue sky and groaned. If he wasn’t a literal rock, he would have been covered in bruises. As it was he still felt like shit.    

“Well look at what the goat dropped in.” Someone laughed. Skeppy tilted his head back to look behind him, everything upside down. A man in a red sweater cast his shadow over him. 

He smiled and the corners of his eyes creased, his shadow growing as a pair of wings spread slightly behind him “Hey there, you seem new, welcome to Boatem town.” 

“Uuuuu... hey there?” 

“You just gonna to lie there, buddy?” He laughed again, reaching out a hand. 

Skeppy blinked and shook his head rolling over and taking the offered hand as the man helped him up. 

“By the way, I’m Grian, whatcha doing out here?” 

“Skeppy, and I, with my excellent sense of direction, was exploring and definitely not lost in any way. I know exactly where I am. And I’m definitely not the victim of some unnamed prankster” He said, starting to walk towards the village and looking around. They were behind a big mossy house.

“Oooh, a prank you say, I’ve got to hear this.” Grian said, following. They walked around the house into the village center, a tower of boats hovered in the middle over an ominous pit. 

“Naaah it’s boring really,” Skeppy waved his hand dismissively as he stopped near the edge of the Boatem hole and peered over. It went all the way down to bedrock, like L’manburg. “Huh... interesting...”

“Ah, yes. That is the Boatem hole, we're planning on opening it up to the void at some point.” Grian explained.

“The void? Wait, you can do that? That sounds awesome. Imagine the pranks you could pull with that” Skeppy said his curiosity getting the better of his caution.

“I know right, Scar’s already fallen down there several times,”

“Hey Grian, who’s your friend there?” A man with in a maroon coat and a tinny hat said coming over. When he came closer Skeppy noticed a long scar running diagonally across his nose and face. 

“Hey Scar! Speak of the devil,” Grian called out to the aptly named man. “This is Skeppy, he’s absolutely not lost.” Grian quipped, smiling, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“You’re lost you say,” Scar said his voice full of all the honey of a car salesman. Skeppy would know, he used the same honeyed tone when trying to talk Bad or Techno into something that probably wasn’t going to end all that well for them but would be absolutely hilarious to watch. 

“Not lost,” Skeppy quickly corrected. 

“Well even those who aren’t lost are trying to get somewhere. I’m sure you wouldn’t object to us sharing a shortcut or too.”

This man was good. Skeppy didn’t want to look too desperate though. Just add a bit of hesitation sprinkled with some skepticism, that should do it “Well... I suppose a shortcut sounds like a good idea. I am heading for the Badlands, know a faster way to get there?”

Skeppy was met with vacant looks, the car salesman gone. “Actually I have no idea where that is,” Scar shrugged sheepishly “How about you Grian,” 

Grian shook his head “Nope... now that I think about it, how did you get on the server anyway,”

“Um... I... I think, I think I just spawned... It’s hard to remember honestly, it’s been so long.” Skeppy frowned at the strange question. 

Grian and Scare glanced at each other in shock. New players weren't born, they were spawned, but it was very rare for players to spawn for the first time in a community server. Usually they spawned in a private server and then moved into a community when they found one that worked for them. 

“Oh!” Skeppies eyes went wide with realization then horror. If a diamond could blanch, Skeppy was the closest thing to that. “...This isn’t the Dream SMP, is it?” 

“Oh dear...” Grian Muttered, “That’s not good.”

---

TFC had been mining. Now he was standing in the middle of a quartz building. That wasn’t normal. His connection to the server had always been a bit glitchy. Maybe this was just another instance of server glitch. He had been frozen in place for days, lagged out, and even defended. Teleportation could just be added to that list. And it wasn’t all that bad, it’s not like it dumped him in the middle of the ocean or lava. As it was, it seemed like he was in someone's starter base. 

He walked down the stairs and out the glass front doors. There were pools of water to either side of a walkway and the yard was cluttered with large colorful statues. A muffin, a duck. Goodness the hermits were already at it with the pranks this season. 

He walked around the statues and came to the front gate of the grounds. A long wooden path lead off in one direction, and wrapped around behind the mansion in the other. A large red multi story building loomed in the distance. The hermits really had gotten busy. 

It was always nice to see what other people were making but he needed to get back to his mine. He took the path following it around the back of the mansion. The path dropped off suddenly. He jumped down and landed with a grunt before taking some bread out of his pocket and munching on it as he rounded the corner of the quartz building's foundation. 

He faltered as his eyes fell on a massive blackstone building looming out of the sea, two imposing lava infused towers book ending the walls at either side... And he had thought the Red build had been big for early game. This was definitely too big for early game... even by hermit standards. 

He slowly walked closer. Beyond the Quartz house was mostly just an open field until it reached the water. As he got closer he noticed his pickaxe suddenly become unnaturally heavy. It felt strangely like Mining Fatigue. What would a Guardian be doing out here? He returned his pick to his inventory. TFC had seen a lot of things in his time, and this thing felt off. 

“Pst..” 

TFC jumped and looked around for the source of the noise. 

“Over here,” 

Now he noticed the footprints in the ground and a floating potion bottle. That sounded like Etho. 

“Etho?” TFC queried.

“Yeah, it’s me. Here drink this, I can explain later,” Etho said, shoving the potion into TFC’s work calloused hands. 

TFC looked down at the bottle of bubbling silver liquid for a moment before uncorking it and downing the liquid. He trusted the young man with his life. 

--- 

Sam started up from his chair in the dark room where he had been flipping through the prison's security camera feeds, lit only by the glow of the computer screens. He expanded the outside front camera feed to full screen and rewound the feed. A strange old man he had never seen before slowly approached the beach by the prison then just disappeared. Who the hell was that and why did he take an invis potion. 

Sam scowled. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, summoning his trident from his inventory and marching for the exit.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Uh I feel like some imagination so can I get ENA confessing her love (but in a beautiful way, like under a cherry blossom tree) please?

‘Dear [y/n], 

I hope this message reaches you in a timely manner.

I have something very, very important to tell you.

But I would much rather meet face-to-face to discuss this matter, so please read the directions that I have provided for you (at the end of this letter) for our rendezvous.

Oh and do come alone, if you will. I’ll be waiting!

Sincerely yours, Ena’

“Ooooooh, whatcha got there, buddy?”

Startled by the celestial body’s presence, you huffed and brought the letter closer to your chest. “D-Don’t scare me like that. Ena wants me to meet her somewhere. Do you know what she might want?”

“Nope, no clue. Buuuut you should probably hurry...it’d be a shame if you kept her waiting long.” Moony mumbled the last part under her breath, though you didn’t get to hear that.

Although you were suspicious of her lying, you decided not to question it as you simply left her alone and began on your way to the location. You looked at the paper, seeing the directions Ena gave you.

‘She wants me to go all this way by myself? Huh, I wonder why.’

...........

Least to say it was quite an adventure. 

After meeting other bizarre digital creatures and narrowly avoiding a rain-rock storm, you’ve finally arrived at a rather vibrant open field with a blue sky and hyperealistic green grass. 

It seemingly stretched out for miles, but soon enough you stumbled across a single low-poly cherry blossom tree. The few pink petals that fell glitched to form different blocky shapes, which disintegrated as soon as they touched the ground.

And underneath that tree stood a certain person. 

But as you got closer you notice she was turned away from you, apparently sulking. “No way would they come all the way here..” She mumbled in a sad warped tone. “I should just go home and wallow in my stupidity!! This was pointless-!!!”

“Ena?”

The aforementioned female tensed up, before spinning around to see you. “Ah! [Y/n]!” She greeted as her face turned back to normal. “I didn’t think you’d come! I’m so glad my letter reached you.”

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” You chuckled, putting the letter away and approaching her. “So..what have you summoned me here for? This is kinda far from the places I’m familiar with.”

For a moment Ena was quiet, her eyes seeming to bluescreen as she tried to formulate a response. “I-I-I um...it’s...a-ah..quite difficult to..e-explain-” She stammered, clearly trying to calm herself but failing. Her entire body was on the brink of glitching out, which worried you.

“Hey, hey..there’s no rush.” Out of habit, you took her hands into yours. It was something you tended to do whenever she got panicky. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

As soon as you held her hands, her glitching abruptly stopped, and she looked directly into your eyes. So many emotions were running through her mind as she realized just how close you two were now, but she didn’t want to lose herself this time. 

Not yet. Not before she told you..

It was now or never.

“My apologies. So ah...[y/n]..I’ve been experiencing feelings of...e-endearment towards you for quite some time now.” Her voice was fluctuating, but she kept going. “Y-You’ve always been so kind and generous to me. Never, not once, have you judged me whenever my emotions get...”out of sorts”. I truly do feel like I can be myself around you and...I-I wish to keep that connection for a lifetime.”

As you realized this was a love confession, your face burned up, and you could feel your own heart racing. 

By the time Ena had finished, she closed her eyes, her tone becoming sadder. “I hope this doesn’t ruin anything..i-if you don’t feel the same way then..we should at least maintain our friendship-”

“W-Wait a second, you’re saying you wanna be more than just friends? Is that what it is?”

She nervously looked up at you. “Indeed. D-Do you accept this confession?”

“You know...I’ve felt the same way for a while.” You smiled softly “So yeah..I do, Ena. I accept your confession.”

Her eyes widened in shock, but soon she was grinning too, hugging you tightly. “Oh that brings me much, much joy [y/n]!! I adore you with all my heart!!”

“I adore you, too, Ena.” Wrapping your arms around her, you looked around and saw a few more petals falling off the tree. The wind must’ve picked up, as you could see them turn into heart-shaped figures.

Your journey to this place wasn’t an easy one.

But if your reward was her love, then it was worth it.

[dark-mnjiro]

isn’t it lovely? [all alone]

Theme: fluff, angst, angry outburst, anxiety/depression comfort, 707/saeyoung x f!reader/mc one-shot

Warnings: language, mentions of self hate, depictions of depression/anxiety, panic attack

Author’s Note: I love my little, redhead hacker boi and I love his route in mystic messenger so I couldn’t just not write about when Seven and MC lived in the apartment together and dealt with his mental health issues. I don’t know if this is even written that well, but I found it super therapeutic right now.

----

Crimson hair feathered his forehead, hiding the wrinkles of concentration while his honey-colored eyes squinted at the text on the screen. His friends all lost in conversation, having not noticed his unusual silence. His hand moved to his chest, gripping his red t-shirt as his heartbeat quickened. This feeling was so foreign, so unlike him… why was this happening?

Chewing his lower lip, his free hand adjusted his striped glasses before raking his fingers through his hair and out of his face. His eyes darted down to the small digital clock on his computer screen checking the time. It couldn’t be that late, right? Anxiety began creeping up in the back of his mind causing a leg to bounce uncomfortably under his desk. 

Maybe he should check the cameras…

“It’s been two-point twenty-five seconds right?” he wondered aloud to himself. 

The mouse moved across the screen as he moved the group chat to his other screen before glancing over the cameras in the apartment. He flipped between each different camera display before settling on a bedroom. Leaning in, he chewed on his lower lip watching the silhouette of a female figure under a blanket seemingly asleep now with each gentle inhale and exhale of breath.  

Settling back against the back of his gaming chair, a sigh fell from the red head’s lips. “Sleeping are we?” he said softly as his lips curled up into a gentle smile before glancing back at the group chat. A slew of messages pestering him, questioning the whereabouts of—

“Oh for fuck’s sake…”

His fingers quickly typing back small quips and playful insults toward his friends before his eyes stole a glance at the sleeping figure again. He watched as you began to stir lightly, a small moan escaping your lips as you stretched… his cheeks flushed a dusty pink color at the sheer innocence of the sound. 

“...damn,” he cursed as his heart raced once again. “Silly girl. Always embarrassing me. Still, I can’t help but wonder if this is safe if anything happened to you…” He paused for a moment before a painful groan rumbled from his chest at the idea of any harm falling on you. “I have to stay focused. I have to protect you, even if it breaks your heart.”

He pushed his chair back away from his desk before standing up, making his way out of his bedroom. Holding his breath, he made his way to your bedroom before leaning against the door frame. “Why the hell am I here?” he mumbled, watching your body shift lightly in bed as he found himself lost in watching your rhythmic breathing. 

“Seven?”

His body tensed before jumping back and hiding behind the wall. “Shit,” he hissed. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“I caught you~” 

Seven felt embarrassment creeping up his spine and his neck. Perhaps silence was his best defense, maybe it would give him enough time to sneak back to his temporary computer set up…

“Whatcha doin’ Seven?”

His body tensed again before nervously glancing down at the smiling face beside him, almost lighting up your eyes… He gulped, cursing himself inwardly at how weak those sparkling eyes made him. 

“I was checking the camera,” he quickly lied, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, praying to God that you wouldn’t notice the blush creeping over his features. “The picture was glitching.”

Tilting your head, the smile on your face grew wider. “But the camera is on the other side of the room,” you replied as a giggle bubbled from your throat before you pointed out the camera that was indeed on the other side of the room. 

Fuck…

Seven sighed, trying to mask his growing attraction toward you with sheer irritation instead. “God, why does it matter?” he asked, his voice switching to low and annoyed. “I was checking the damn camera. I already told you I don’t care about you!”

Your eyes squinted as you merely smiled more at him, causing the embarrassment creeping up his neck to flush his cheeks with a pink hue. “Oh?” you asked. “You weren’t checking up on me at all?”

“I mean I had to make sure you hadn’t run away,” Seven countered. “You’re so naive-” Seven was quickly cut off by you erupting in laughter before you moved past him and headed toward the kitchen. His eyes followed your movement, squinting suspiciously as he tried to gauge just what on Earth was wrong with you? No matter what he said, no matter what he did…

He found his feet moved on their own, following you into the kitchen as he leaned against the wall as he watched you begin fiddling around with preparations for lunch. His arms crossed over his chest before catching your eyes glance at him over your shoulder. You flashed a smile and immediately he felt he couldn’t breathe again…

“Are you hungry Seven?”

“No, I’m—”

The sound of his stomach growling betrayed his charade as you giggled at him. His face flushed again before shooting a glare in your direction.

“Sit down,” you tutted. “I’m almost done with lunch. It’s not much but it’s something…”

Seven slumped into the seat, groaning inwardly at how he was stuck in this never-ending predicament with you. No matter how hard he tried to push back, you just simply ran back to him faster. He found himself growing weaker by the moment, despite his angry outbursts and feeble attempts to keep you and your feelings at bay. To be honest, he wanted nothing more than to let you in… to be close to you. But, if something were to happen to you because of who he was, his stomach dropped at the mere thought.

No, he had to keep you away.

“Here!” You set a small plate of a sandwich and even his favorite chips down in front of him before accompanying the meal with a can of his favorite soft drink.

His eyes glanced up from the plate to catch your eyes causing his heart to race. What was it about you that made him feel so ridiculous? Like a damn child… He quickly tore his gaze away from you by stuffing the chips into his mouth. 

“I hope you like it Seven.”

There you go again, worrying about him and his wants and needs and not your own. Stupid girl, he thought. He picked up the sandwich before taking a rather large bite before glancing up at you again and catching you staring back at him with a smile still on your face. His eyes quickly diverted away back to his plate as he continued to try and focus on eating. “It’s good,” he mumbled after finishing it. For the first time in weeks, he felt full having finally eaten a decent meal and not just his favorite chips…

Seven hadn’t quite grasped just how hungry he had become as he wolfed down the small meal you had prepared. He wondered if maybe he was overworking himself… but my god this food was just perfect. And you…

He caught himself staring at you before a giggle bubbled from your throat as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He couldn’t begin to understand what you could be so nervous about, he was the fool. He was an utter fool. 

“...hey,” he mumbled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away from you.

Tilting your head, you smiled more. “Yes, Seven?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve had to say some awful things to you… but, just know… I can’t get close to you or else they’ll hurt you. Please understand if something happened to you—” He paused as his voice shook in fear as the sheer thought of the agency finding out about you… torturing you… killing you…

Your hand quickly went out to comfort him. “Seven—”

His hand shot up to silence you as he jumped to his feet. He could feel his heart racing once again before he made a beeline for his computer set up. Panting as anxiety began to flood his chest, he stared at the dark computer screen. Tears beaded at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall…

He hated this part of himself. 

God, how he wished he was more like the 707 persona he portrayed himself I the messenger. The Seven that you seemingly had fallen for, it wasn’t the real him and with that, he felt disgusting. He felt as if he were a liar. He could never be that man that promised to marry you in outer space one day, no. He was nothing more than an illusion that could never bring you happiness. 

“Seven?”

It was you peeking in the doorway as you heard him snuggling back his tears and quickly wiping his eyes. The will to not breakdown in front of you was becoming more difficult the more time he spent with you. You were breaking through each wall, each challenge. 

And each time, he had to get meaner, colder. 

“What?” he snapped, keeping his back to you. 

Your footsteps rang in his ears causing his back to go rigid. No no no, you couldn’t see him this weak, this feeble. You kneeled behind him and before he could protest wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His body stiffened, even fought for a moment trying to tug himself away from you. 

“Please,” he begged. “Just go… you can’t see me like this…”

“But I want to see all of you, Seven,” you whispered back gently. “The good and the bad.”

“You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Seven. You know I do. You just won’t accept it.”

His eyes widened as he could feel his heart rate beginning to slow to a pace he could handle again. “I’m nothing you know,” he mumbled. “Absolutely nothing. I can’t offer you anything and you deserve the world. All I can do is sit here in the dark losing my God damn mind like a fool.”

“You’re not a fool,” you replied, tightening your grip around him. “You’re just lost… and I want to help you.”

His body relaxed, knowing he couldn’t resist anymore. The anxiety seemed to melt away the instant you would speak and reassure him of his existence and how he mattered to you and his friends. “Please don’t regret this,” was all he could say. 

“...never.”

[owlheartt]

Star Sanses Extended Chapter 3: Error

Here is chapter 1 on AO3

“YOU CAN’T-” Undyne began, her face furrowing together in a sort of pure anger that felt very unlike her.

“PLEASE, WAIT FOR EVERYTHING TO CALM DOWN. MY FRIENDS AND I CAN EXPLAIN IN A BIT, BUT I CAN’T STAY HERE TALKING TO YOU.” Papyrus said, trying to be patient and not show how unnerved he was. It occurred to him that talking to Alphys might help her some, and he used blue magic to carefully grab her SOUL. Then, with full concentration, moved the blue bones and Undyne herself to the blubbering Alphys in the corner who had stayed where Papyrus had asked her to.

Behind him, he could hear a sound almost like a soft gust of wind. Turning around, he found Mettaton’s body collapsed on the floor. There were bones sticking out of his middle, solid ones. His arms looked burnt, like he had been hit with a Gaster Blaster and deflected it using them. Dream and Ink didn’t have blasters or bones, Dream had told him earlier. Therefore, Papyrus could assume Error had done this. Papyrus looked at the black boned skeleton. He had a scratchy grin scrawled across his face, and his expression was comically like a cartoon villain’s.

“Drreeaamyyy boyyy!” Error said, taunting. His voice was glitching in such a way that it sounded like an old radio’s version of nails on chalkboard. Dream threw a mourning glance at Mettaton’s crumpled body, which felt mildly excessive since he had only run out of battery.

“Error! Please! Leave this timeline alone!” Dream begged, stringing another arrow. He didn’t sound exactly desperate, more like he didn’t want to deal with any of these shenanigans.

“Pretty please?” Ink called from the ceiling, blinking his eye sockets and grinning.

“Can it squid!” Error said, his voice no longer sounding so ear-grating.

“FRIEND…” Papyrus trailed off, struggling to find the right thing to say. He wasn’t following what was happening. He wasn’t done training with Dream. He had just plunged into his first Alternate Universe and came face to face with a troubled skeleton he didn’t know that looked horribly like his brother. He just met Alphys for the first time and she was rude and terrified. He just met a grieving Undyne. The Underground felt like it had been flipped upside down and things were moving too quickly.

“Friend?” Error said, laughing. The glitching in his voice made his giggles sound halting. “We’re not friends, you idiot. In fact, I will be your downfall,” Error reached his hands up to his eye sockets, his fingers snagging on something Papyrus couldn’t quite see. Then he pulled them away, dragging brilliant blue strings that matched the permanent tears streaming down his face. He appeared braced to move, and then Dream grabbed his forearm. Error’s expression of glee turned to shock, then the errors and glitches riddling his body multiplied until it was hard to see any bit of him. Dream drew back, looking relieved.

“So. Now you’ve met Error,” Dream said, sighing. “I’m ready to go home, how about you?” He gave Papyrus a tired grin, and his slump showed he was just about ready to drop on the spot. Papyrus nodded, and shot solid bones to cut Ink loose. He reached out his SOUL magic to catch his falling friend, but he missed. Somehow. It was almost like there wasn’t a SOUL there for Papyrus to catch. Ink hit the ground and rolled, coming to a full stop splat on the ground like a puddle.

“Thanks!!” Ink said, grinning. “Ooone moment!” He danced forward (yes, danced) and scooped his brush off the floor. He then splashed bright blue ink all over Error that solidified into chains.

“Ink, the SOUL.” Dream said patiently. Ink looked at him blankly for a moment, his expression mirroring Papyrus’s feelings, then a little light bulb went off on his eye light. He splashed a pool of ink on the floor, just like he had when he made the shortcut, but this time all he stuck was his hand in. Then he pulled out a Determined human SOUL, just like that.

“WHERE’D THAT COME FROM?! DO WE NEED TO RETURN IT?!” Papyrus said, alarmed.

“No, no.” Dream said, walking over to Ink and reaching a hand out. “This SOUL belongs to this timeline. Error took it so that the timeline couldn’t RESET.” Papyrus opened his mouth to ask a question, but Undyne interrupted him.

“Who the hell are you guys?! Let me go and we can have a real fight!!” She yelled from the other side of the room, where Papyrus had left her.

“RIGHT, SORRY FRIEND,” Papyrus said, reaching out a hand to dissipate the bones.

“Paper, wait.” Dream said. Papyrus turned to him questioningly, but before he could ask Dream continued. “I’m going to show you something, alright? Come here.” Papyrus strode over and crouched to see the brilliant red SOUL Dream was holding.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH IT?” Papyrus said tentatively.

“RESET the timeline. Do you know about RESETs?” Dream said. Papyrus felt his SOUL drop past his ribcage. The word felt… familiar. It did not feel good. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t place it.

“I’M… NOT SURE. I THINK I DO, BUT YOU BETTER EXPLAIN IT ANYWAYS.” Papyrus said. Dream nodded, his expression saying that he was thankful Papyrus was honest.

“Determined human SOULs have the power to manipulate time itself. They can SAVE, LOAD, and RESET. SAVING is when they place a bookmark of sorts in time itself. They can LOAD and come back to the savepoint. RESETTING is when they go back to the beginning, typically when the human first fell into the Underground.” Dream explained. Pieces were beginning to come together in Papyrus’s skull.

“SO WE CAN BRING THIS TIMELINE BACK TO BEFORE OTHER ME… LEFT.” Papyrus said, exited.

“Exactly!” Ink said, jumping up to sling his arm around the crouching skeleton.

“WHAT ABOUT ERROR?” Papyrus said, looking towards the skeleton, still glitch-ridden.

“Eh, he’ll be out for a while. We could take him with us for lunch though, he might like that!!” Ink rambled. “Do you have any chocolate?”

“I BELIEVE SO, WHY?”

“We are not bringing Error for lunch.” Dream said firmly, nervously glancing at Error. “Ink, please take him back to his anti-void.” Ink pouted before making another shortcut and dragging himself and Error through.

“MAYBE HE JUST NEEDS A FRIEND,” Papyrus said ponderingly. Dream barked a dry laugh.

“Ink’s his friend. If either of the idiots can remember it.” He said.

“THEN WHY DO THEY FIGHT? AND WHY CAN’T WE BRING HIM FOR LUNCH?” Papyrus said. If Error was a friend, then why did he act the way he did? Error needed to take some friendship classes.

“You know how Ink forgets everything if he isn’t looking right at it?” After Papyrus nodded, Dream continued. “Error’s the same way. He can even do it staring right at you.”

“I WONDER WHAT IT’S LIKE TO NOT REMEMBER YOUR LIFE.” Papyrus said.

“I don’t know, and honestly? I’m too concerned already to find out. Now, I’m going to RESET then teleport us straight to your place. Don’t worry, we’ll come out right outside of your door.” Dream said, closing his eyes in concentration. Papyrus refrained from saying anything in case he broke Dream’s concentration. A small blip, then two glowing buttons appeared in front of the human SOUL. One said LOAD and the other RESET. Dream brought a hand up and brushed a finger along RESET. A white flash, tinged with gold and red, then they were in Snowdin.

Snowdin looked just the same as he had left it. Nothing was changed, nothing at all. It didn’t feel different like that red timeline. It felt so bizarre, having just gone on this adventure, and home was the exact same. What was he going to tell Sans? The truth, obviously, but where to start? Papyrus’s fantastic mind had barely been able to keep up with it all. But it was lunch time. He could pause and think over lunch. Surely, nothing would happen over lunch.

“Come on, unless you’d like to eat elsewhere?” Dream asked. Papyrus straightened, realizing he was still crouched.

“NO, PLEASE! COME IN. I WAS SIMPLY ENJOYING BEING BACK AT MY FANTABULOUS HOME.” Papyrus said, striding forward to the door. He heard Dream mutter something to himself that sounded a bit like “is… real word?” before his boots thumped in the snow behind Papyrus. Papyrus swung open the door, ready for food (and his brother). Sans was, in fact, inside, and right in front of the door.

“hey bro,” Sans’s eye lights were out, which made Papyrus pause. Sans’s eye lights didn’t go out often.

“SANS, IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG?” Papyrus said, concerned.

“nah, nothin’. but uh, did ya’ know we got some visitors?” He said, turning his skull slightly to the couch that had a broom thrown behind it.

“AH, MY APOLOGIES DEAR BROTHER! THAT’S MY NEW FRIEND. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO COME WITH ME, BUT I GUESS HE GOT EXCITED.” Papyrus said.

“... friend? as in singular?” Sans said, his eye lights flickered back on, but he still looked concerned.

“WELL I HAVE A SECOND ONE HERE, SAY HELLO DREAM!! THIS IS MY BROTHER SANS.” Papyrus said, only after realizing Dream knew this.

“then uh, why’s he got a buddy?” Sans said, waddling towards the couch. Well, he was really walking, but Papyrus liked to call it waddling. He did look like a penguin. Papyrus followed, with Dream in tow, only to find that Error had been plopped on the couch with Ink.

“Heyyy buddy friend pal!” Ink said excitedly. “What’s for lunch?”

“I thought I was clear, Error is not having lunch with us.” Dream interrupted, stepping in front of Papyrus and his brother.

“Aww come on, why not??” Ink whined. Dream began lecturing him as Sans sidled up to Papyrus.

“hey bro, i’m glad you're making friends don’t get me wrong, but could ya’ have picked… better ones?” Sans said, raising an eyebrow bone (honestly I don’t feel like googling the terminology just shhhh).

“THESE REALLY ARE GOOD FRIENDS! WELL, ERROR ISN’T, BUT I’M SURE WE CAN HELP HIM!!” Papyrus said, trying to be reasonable and look at it from Sans’s perspective. “THEY’RE VERY IMPORTANT, I CAN EXPLAIN OVER LUNCH.”

“aight, guess that brings us back to lunch, huh? whatcha want? i can make it today, so you can keep hangin’ out with your buddies.” Sans said.

“MAC AND CHEESE, PERHAPS?” Papyrus offered. Sans nodded, and was beginning to walk into the kitchen when there was a shout.

“SQUIIIIIIIIID!!!” Error shouted, his voice escalating and glitching hard. Ink paused, looking at the mad skeleton.

“Uhh… yea?” He said, an eye light flipping pale green.

“Why the hell am I here?!?” Error said, glaring at his ‘friend.’ It did not look like they were friends.

“Oh- I thought you might like lunch!” Ink said cherrily, throwing his hands up.

“You are perfectly welcome to leave,” Dream said in a voice that would’ve been icy had it been used by anyone else. Dream himself was so warm though that it was impossible for his words to have the same edge.

“Fucking hell squid, how many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?!” Error growled, standing up. As much as he was pretending to not be listening to Dream, he seemed about to accept his offer.

“I HAVE CHOCOLATE.” Papyrus said, remembering what Ink had asked him. Error whipped around and stared straight at Papyrus, locking eye sockets. He glared for a moment, and Papyrus got worried that Ink had remembered something wrong (again). Then, Error sat back down.

“Fine, I guess I can stay for lunch.” He said, scoffing, pointedly not looking at Ink. Sans grabbed Papyrus’s arm, yanking him into the kitchen.

“papyrus, where did these guys come from?” Sans said, keeping his voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear.

“THAT’S… HARD TO ANSWER. ELSEWHERE, I SUPPOSE. MAYBE HERE. THEY ARE ABLE TO EXPLAIN BETTER.” Papyrus said. It felt like he was telling a lie, or avoiding the truth. Even though he just couldn’t find the right words. He hoped Dream would clear everything up. Sans just sighed.

“that’s aight. go back to the living room, i don’t want your glitchy buddy tearing up the couch,” Sans said. Seeing Papyrus’s look, he added, “i’ll get the chocolate for him, don’t worry. and i won’t burn anything.” Sans relaxed his expression, the previously strained smile looking a bit more natural. As Sans turned to the cupboards to search for food, Papyrus walked back out to the living room.

“MY CARING BROTHER IS TAKING CARE OF LUNCH, IT WILL HOPEFULLY BE READY SOON.” Papyrus said. Error scoffed again, turning to look at the door in what appeared to be longing. “ERROR, I DON’T BELIEVE I INTRODUCED MYSELF TO YOU EARLIER.”

“You did.” He said dryly.

“I- I DID? REALLY?” Papyrus said.

“I’ve got no clue if you did or didn’t, but I know who you are and I’m sure golden there told you who I am.” Without moving his head, Error drifted his eye lights back over to Papyrus. They were mismatched, Papyrus realized. Dream huffed.

“Don’t bother Paper. Error’s a prick.” Dream walked over to Ink, shoved him closer to Error, then sat down at the very edge of the couch.

“He’s not a prick per say…” Ink said in a wheedling voice.

“Sure, go ahead and talk about me as if I’m not in the room.” Error said, his eye lights gliding back to the door.

“I APOLOGIZE FRIEND. LOOK, I RECOGNISE THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO INTRODUCE YOURSELF, BUT I WOULD.” Papyrus stuck out a hand. Error glared at it. “GREETINGS! I AM PAPER. I BELIEVE I’M FROM UNDERTALE.”

“I’m Error. I’m an outcode. Leave me alone.”

“I call Error’s AU Errortale!! There are others from his timeline out there I think…” Ink said, trailing off into thought that would surely be forgotten.

“They don’t fucking matter.” Error grumbled, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Would you lighten up on your language?!” Dream said, snapping a little. He had squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck shit damn,” Error said, and Papyrus could see a little smirk appear on his face. Error was proving to have… a difficult personality.

“keep the cuss words down in m’house please!” Sans called from the kitchen. Papyrus winced, realizing that this was Sans’s first impression of his new friends.

“HOW ABOUT THIS- DREAM AND I CAN FIND A BOARD GAME WE CAN PLAY WHILE WE WAIT FOR FOOD!” Papyrus threw a glance at Dream. His eye lights had reopened and he stood up. Error rolled his eye lights and Ink just looked passively happy. Papyrus walked behind the couch to a tired bookcase. It had puzzles, games, and cards that he and his brother played with when their free time lined up. Or when the snow outside was too much to go anywhere. While Papyrus and Dream pursued the games, Ink blathered to Error in the background.

“What about this one?” Dream said, pulling out a tan box titled “Munchkins” with cartoon humans on the front. Undyne had given it to him a few months ago, he and Sans had played it once.

“AH, ALRIGHT. FRIENDS! WE’RE PLAYING MUNCHKINS.” Papyrus said, walking back over to the couch and sitting down uncomfortable in front of the TV. Ink slipped to the ground happily, and Error made a big show of getting up and sitting back down, dragging a pillow Sans had left from the night before to the floor with him. Dream plopped down between Papyrus and Ink. It was game time, and Papyrus was ready to be competitive.

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: God is Dead?

I might start updating twice a week because I am writing this story at BREAKNECK speed. this is my favorite chapter so far. enjoy! (special thanks to @friedchickenangelwings once again for sticking with me and my incessant rambling about this story at all hours during holidays)

Fic Summary:  Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching. 

“You know?” Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?” 

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.” 

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off. 

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side.  “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.” 

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat. 

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?” 

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.” 

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen. 

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.” 

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with Lucifer without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?” 

“Ash, what about the human rumors?” 

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?” 

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.” 

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.” 

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?” 

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo… 

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.” 

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm. 

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too. 

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad. 

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon. 

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,” 

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?” 

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!” 

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope. 

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?” 

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.” 

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks. 

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question. 

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.” 

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?” 

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?” 

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?” 

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him that. “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.” 

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like that and then leave. It’s a bitch-ass move. 

“Yo, Deano?” 

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“How do we jail-break ‘em?” 

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…” 

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.” 

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.” 

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.” 

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time. 

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.” 

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?” 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?” 

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.” 

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s. 

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.” 

tag list: (ask or dm to be removed or added)

@dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus

[mythrilhusk]

Korosensei Never Dies - Chapter 5

Words: 1689 Ao3 Version Chapter 4 (Last)

Chapter 6 (Next)

AN: This is NOT RPF, this story is based solely on the characters of Dream SMP, not the people playing them.

====

It's a hobby some would call obsessive or even creepy. Wilbur Soot doesn't care what anyone thinks, it's his world and everyone else is just living in it. His pencil scrawls on the page, scratching black onto white.

--Tommy needs encouragement. He's latched onto Philza as a fath- role model worryingly fast. Have I not been enough for him? He told me he wants to kill Technoblade, but I could see the lie in his eyes. He's too kind, and now he's being torn in two directions. Should I ease the strain? Or should I see how long it takes for him to break?--

Wilbur doesn't care what others think of him. His sly gaze flickers from person to person, lingering on the bright ray of sunshine that is Tommy. 

--Tubbo worries me. He's been mostly silent ever since Technoblade showed up. Is he planning something?-- 

--Eret wants to kill Technoblade purely for the money. I saw the way their eyes lit up at the bounty. Which brings to mind another question. Why hasn't anyone outside of this class actually tried to kill Technoblade?--

--Ranboo never lets go of that notebook. I could swear it had a different cover. He's creepy. Avoid him.--

--Quackity has an intense grudge against Technoblade. But he's always with his gang, so I haven't been able to talk to him.--

--Hannah Rose started sparring with Foolish and Charlie last week. She's good. Too good. I don't trust her.--

--I can't get a read on Sapnap. He's always with Quackity, so I never have a chance to have a nice little chat, a good old tete-a-tete.--

--Connor wants to kill Technoblade. Boring.--

--Charlie hasn't shown any bent towards one side or another. He goes around with his saccharine "humour" and fails all his quizzes like he doesn't want Philza to train us. Maybe I should get him expelled.--

--Foolish says strange things. I don't like him.--

Wilbur pauses when he's finished silently dissing all his fellow students. The teachers are next. 

--Ponk just sort of showed up one day and then stayed as the math teacher. His quizzes are so goddamn annoying. He hasn't shown any signs of wanting to kill Technoblade, though.--

--Punz was here for like a day, and then was sent to the hospital as the result of Techno's completely just and righteous defense of Philza. Unknown if he will find the guts to return or not.--

--Philza. Ah, Philza. Mere words can not convey the sheer respect I have for that man's dedication to chaos. Why, just the other day, I saw him feeding birds as they perched on him. He then used them for target practice. Magnificent. If we all endeavor to succeed in our classes, he will teach us how to kill his friend.--

--Technoblade is an enigma. Seriously. Does this mutant man ever sleep? By all accounts, he should be a terrible teacher, yet somehow he finds the time and tenacious willpower to teach all the subjects in a concise and understandable way. Not to mention his casual sprinkling of anarchy propaganda. I wish to know his secrets. I will drag them out of him if need be.--

"Whatcha writing?" Tommy inquires. 

"Nothing!" Grinning innocently, Wilbur snaps his notebook closed. 

"Is it about me? Are you writing how good I am at luv?" 

"No, Tommy." Wilbur ruffles his friend's fluffy hair, ignoring Tommy's complaints. "I'm writing a diary. You can't read it." 

"Fuck off, I'll write my own diary!" 

Wilbur smiles and sits back, listening to Tommy rant. It would be interesting, wouldn't it, to see how he deals with the conundrum of looking up to Philza while being pressured to kill Technoblade. Wilbur can't wait to see him break. 

++++

Badboyhalo paces in the Duckling's treehouse, wincing with every step. Antfrost binds George's wounds. "This has gone too far, Bad!" George complains. 

"Shut up! I know we can think of something!" 

"Our reputation is on the line! If anybody looks even slightly deeper into our pasts, we're all screwed." 

"Shut up!" Bad screeches. "We are Professional Assassins, that's all we ever have been, and nobody is going to question it unless you two screw up again!" 

Antfrost glowers, tightening a bandage on George's arm. "You screwed up, too." 

"How was I supposed to know?? He's a highschool student, a teenager, he shouldn't be good at fighting!!" 

"He's better than us. You think Dream taught him?" George tries to scratch at his bandages, but Antfrost smacks his hand away. 

"I don't know, you muffinheads, but we need to figure something out. Maybe take some martial arts classes." 

"You want us to go back to school??" 

"No! Yes?? Maybe? I don't know." Bad replies miserably. "We've gotta get outta here before Quackity and his gang show up." 

"Too fucking late." Quackity snarls behind Bad, dropping through the window. "Why the fuck didn't your motherfucking special weapons do a single goddamned thing??" 

"Language," Bad mutters half-heartedly. 

"Why the fuck are you buffoons planning to take classes for fighting?? You said you were professionals!!" 

"That is true, we are professionals. But we may have been a teensy bit misleading about our line of work." 

Quackity's scowl darkens and he draws his revolver. "I want blood, Bad. I want your blood so motherfucking badly right now. Fucking tell me the truth." 

Bad raises his hands, heart in his throat. "Wait, wait! I- we're not actually assassins, okay? We're just, uhh, our business is in, uhh-" 

Quackity cocks the gun. His eyes show no hint of mercy. 

"Wait-wait-wait-" Bad cries, trembling. "We're just con-men! It's our business! We go around, telling people we can take care of whatever their problem is, then we take the money and dip! Haha!" 

"We bit off a bit more than we could chew when President Skeppy paid us to help you kill Technoblade." George sighs. "Go ahead and shoot Bad, he's our leader. It was all his idea." 

"N-no!!" Bad screeches, glaring at George. "Don't shoot!! Please!" 

"Fuck you." Quackity flicks open the casing and empties the bullets onto the table. "Fuck you and your motherfucking lies. You don't even have a supplier, do you?" 

"No, we stole the prototype weapons from HBomb's lab!" 

"I'll forgive you on one condition." Quackity gives them a small, hard smile. "Break into the lab and get us actual weapons that'll actually fucking work on Techno. Nothing explosive, just knives and guns."  

"Deal." Antfrost says. "Do we still get a cut?" 

"Ten percent, but that's only if you don't fuck up again." 

"Ten??" Bad cries, forgetting his former fear. "That's only one billion!!" 

"That's about a billion times more than you fucking deserve, so don't test me, assholes."

Bad clenches his fists. Quackity is just a kid. He's just one kid. Bad, Antfrost, and George could easily win. 

But that's what they thought about Ranboo. Bad huffs. "Deal." 

++++

Creeping around in the forest is not exactly what Awesamdude expected his career to lead to. But here he is, laying down a perimeter, alone. 

Not quite alone, however. The two kids stalking him could do with some more practice staying silent. He's already learned their names from their hissing whispers. 

"Niki, Jack, you shouldn't be here." He straightens after planting another post in the ground. 

A girl with violently pink hair drops down from a tree. A boy with clashing heterochromatic sunglasses hops up from behind a stump, brushing the leaves off himself. "How'd you know we were there?" Jack whines. 

"You were hardly quiet." 

"What're you doing?" Niki crosses her arms, scowling. 

"Do you want to die?" Sam asks darkly. He's bluffing, of course. He wouldn't kill innocents. 

"Can you kill people?" Jack asks, excited. 

"I could, if I wanted to." 

"Can you kill Technoblade??" 

"No." 

"Why isn't anyone else trying?" 

"His location was a secret." Sam sighs. "It's not anymore, but I'm going to ensure nobody else interferes." 

"How are kids expected to kill an immortal??" Niki cries. "Why is the bounty so high?? Why is he teaching school instead of rotting in a prison??" 

"Curious, aren't you." Sam scratches his head. "Well, I suppose I can answer the first two. You're not expected to kill him, you're being used to keep him in line. And the bounty is so high because he wanted it that high." 

Niki glares at Sam. Jack's expression is unreadable behind his sunglasses. "Why-"

"Shoo." Sam waves a hand at them. "Go home before I lose my patience." 

The two converse for a moment in hushed whispers. Then, simultaneously, they cry, "Teach us to kill Technoblade!" 

Sam represses a smile. "No." 

"Why not??" 

"Because I have a job to do, and that involves not interfering." 

"Is President Skeppy stalling??" Niki snaps.

"I can't answer that." Sam raises his crossbow upon hearing cautious footsteps sneaking past in the shadows of the trees. Niki and Jack both leap back into cover, but Sam ignores them. "Show yourself, or I put an arrow through your ribs." 

"Please don't." Another teen steps out, raising his hands. The hidden weapons on his person wouldn't be obvious to someone less experienced, but are painfully visible to Sam. 

"What are you doing out here?" 

"I don't know?" The teen replies plaintively. "I was just taking a walk." 

"Hm." Sam lowers the crossbow slightly. He activates the sensors in his false eye with a blink, scanning the teen. The scan glitches and sends a flash of pain through his skull. "Agh!" 

"Are you okay, sir?" The teen steps forward. Warning bells chime in the back of Sam's mind, danger, danger, but Sam ignores them. This is just a kid. He's harmless. 

"I'm fine. You should go home." 

"Oh." The boy lowers his hands and opens the book he was holding. For a moment, Sam's eye glitches again, and the boy's form distorts; scales crawl across the boy's arms, twelve wings fold like fractals- Sam winces at the twinge of pain and the hallucinations fade. "I have a home, now." The boy mutters, and then wanders off. 

Sam sighs and continues his job of setting up a fence around the school building for class 3-E. Niki and Jack have scampered off already. He's alone again.

Chapter 6 (Next)

[79chevyimpala]

Cwtches

They had just gotten back from the scouting mission assigned by Leia.  Zeb had gone to check-in with his Ghost family, and Kallus went to medical on his own, knowing Zeb would have had no problems manhandling him to the med-droids, and while Kallus loved to be manhandled by Zeb, he was in no mood for the inevitable teasing he would have received from any and everyone who saw.  So he had gone on his own.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664250

Once Kallus had been cleared by medical, he and Zeb went to debrief Senator Mon Mothma.  She and the rest of command were eager to know the suitability of the scouted location for the next Rebel base.  Zeb and Kallus were of the opinion that the planet they had scouted was inhospitable, but they may have been biased. After the debrief, General Draven took Kallus aside and Zeb decided to wait for Kal outside, just in case the discussion was something he hadn't the clearance for.  "While Operation Fracture was ultimately a success, I regret to inform you that Captain Cassian Andor and all of Rogue One was lost." There must have been a glitch in Kallus' brain, because all he could offer back to Draven was a look of utter confusion.  He thought, if he remembered correctly that Operation Fracture had something to do with an Imperial scientist named Erso, but had absolutely no idea what Rogue One was. If he had been a man prone to dramatics, he would have sighed at the look of confusion, but he remembered that the Captain had already been gone when the shit hit the fan.  He knew no other way than blunt so blunt he was, "Captain Andor is dead.  Draven "The Dick" (as Zeb called him) turned and walked away from a shocked Kallus, and didn't bother to acknowledge the Lasat as he passed by. Zeb could not have cared less about the General, but it should have meant that Kal was right behind, but he wasn't.  'Ok Zeb, someone else probably needed to talk to Kal, no big deal,' he told himself.  Ten minutes went by - no Kal, then it was 15 minutes, and Zeb was getting anxious.  He peeked into the command center and the only people there were there were the command techs.  "Karabast!" "I'm sorry, Sir, I don't know what that means," said the closest tech. "It's probably better you don't, kid." The tech gave him a knowing wink, "Gotcha.  If you are looking for Captain Kallus, he went out that way about 15 minutes ago." "Uh, thanks Mate," Zeb said after he started walking away.  The tech appreciated the gesture, he knew the Captain had something on his mind and hadn't meant to be rude, unlike a certain General.   It always unnerved Zeb when the techs did that.  He should have known better, the ones who were never seen, were the ones who saw everything. The next place Zeb went was Kal's bunk, but Kal wasn't there.  He assessed the situation from what he knew and chose one of the two next logical places to look for a disappeared Kallus.  And he found Kallus exactly where he thought he would, amongst the "clean lines and hard angles" of the Palace of the Woolamander.  "Do I need to go kick Draven's ass?" "Zeb?"  Kallus was confused for a moment before he focused on what Zeb had asked him.  "Oh, ah not this time, he was just the messenger." Zeb knew that tone of voice Kal used.  Zeb did not like that tone of voice Kal used when he thought he hadn't done enough because the outcome wasn't one he had expected, even if he had nothing to do with the original situation. If one was to believe Kallus, he would be responsible for every evil deed the Empire has done even before he joined. He had squatted down on his haunches to be closer to Kal when he noticed something in Kallus' hands, "Whatcha got there Kal?" Without uttering a word, Kallus just handed the object over to Zeb.  After he took it, he sat down all the way opposite Kallus.  Then Zeb looked at what he was holding.  It was a hand held holo projector with a still image displayed.  It took Zeb a minute to figure out what he was looking at, and what it was was a picture of Kal with a dark haired and darker than Kallus skinned man at (and this was the kicker, if he hadn't been looking at it he never would have believed it of straight laced Kal) a tattoo parlor! Before Zeb could say anything, Kallus spoke, "That is Captain Cassian Andor of Rebel Intelligence, a fellow Fulcrum, and the person I defected to," here Kallus had paused briefly, "He was also my only friend after you." Zeb set aside that last bit to examine later, instead he focused on the young man, "He seems really young, he's just a kit like . . ." "Ezra," Kallus breathed, "I had thought the same thing when I met him.  He was only 26." "Was?" Zeb asked knowing he was not going to like the answer. "Captain Andor lead a team to Scarif to retrieve structural plans for what had been being built over Geonosis.  While ultimately the mission was a success, he along with everyone on Scarif were lost." To anyone else, Kallus might have sounded cold, but Zeb (and maybe it was because of his Lasat ears) heard the lilts Kal was trying so hard to hide.  He didn't say anything as he handed the projector back to Kallus, but before Kallus could pull his hand back, Zeb had grabbed Kal's wrist and pulled the grieving man into a fierce hug.  He hoped he could convey all the love and support he had for Kal through the strength of his arms holding Kal tight, and the pounding of his heart. "Ashakrawhante, Zeb."

@comfortember

[star-gamerxox]

AfterDeath; Dark Angel

December day 9

This story is the original idea for Sheltered Soul, a fanfiction that I absolutely adore. I'll link said fanfiction at the bottom but I wrote this oneshot early march. Soon after, the story Sheltered Soul arrived...

It's really bad and in my old crappy writing style but I still like it.

So enjoy;

Geno curled up in the blank space that was the save screen. He hated it there. Usually he was alone. The only time he had visitors was when Reaper came over or Reaper dropped off their son. Sadly that was a rare occurrence.

“Geno?” Geno looked up and his eyes darted around before he groaned loudly. He was sick and tired of that sort of stuff. He was almost positive that he was going insane from the loneliness and Reaper wasn’t coming back for who knows how long.

“Why. I see why they like you. Heh. Poor Reaper. He just led me to the glitch he had worked so hard to hide from me.” Geno looked up and saw Error looking down at him. Geno yelped and tried back away in a panic.

“Awe you look so panicked. Did you know that Reaper calls you his mate? Whether he means mate as is date mate or soulmate, he still calls you such. It’s disgusting to see him with such a glitch like you.” Error wrapped the dying skeleton in his strings and Geno desperately tried to escape.

“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” Geno yelled. 

What happened next, Geno couldn’t tell if it was a good or a bad thing. Reaper took that moment to send their son through a portal into the save screen. Goth proceeded to scream which sent Reaper leaping through the portal as well. Geno felt the strings tighten around his soul for a moment before loosening enough for him to escape. Sadly, the strings wrapped themselves around Goth and the boy's soul. 

Geno was free but now the destroyer of worlds has his son.

“Goth!” Geno felt himself fall forward before turning back to Error.

“Please! Kill me! Just don’t hurt Goth!” Geno begged but the destroyer laughed.

“Even better, I have good ol’ Reaper beg for both your lives. That should be fun to watch.” Error wrapped Geno up again and Reaper stood in shock. Both his son and mate could die at any moment. Both could die while he stood there in shock. Reaper hated it.

“Error! Let them go!” Reaper shouted and the destroyer laughed.

“Awe. You know that’s not gonna work.” Error tightened the strings. Geno stayed quiet but Goth started to cry at the new grip on his soul.

“Dad! Dad help!” Goth sobbed. Reaper felt panic rise in him before he moved closer to the destroyer.

“What do you want me to do? Beg on my knees? Cry? What? I’ll do anything! I’ll do anything, just don’t kill them!” He nearly sobbed and Error smirked.

“Beg maybe? Fight? Entertain me Reaper.” Error smirked. Reaper looked back at his struggling Mate and sobbing child.

“Do you wanna fight? Me to beg? I’ll do anything but you have to let them go in advance. If we fight you may tighten the strings during the fight. Please release them. I’m begging on my knees, please, please, please!” He kneeled in front of the destroyer, his entire body quivering. Error smirked and snapped his fingers. Both white clad skeletons dropped to the floor. Geno rushed to his son and lifted him up. Goth clung to his mother and began to cry.

“Go to Ink, Geno. I’ll be there as soon as this is over.” Reaper whispered and Geno nodded. Goth tried to push to his father and it made his ‘mother’ scoop him back up.

“Goth sweetheart, let’s go see Palette and his parents okay? Daddy will be there soon.” He whispered and Goth nodded and allowed his mother to carry him out into a portal.

“Since when could that glitch leave the save screen?” Error snarled.

“Since we realized that it’s nearly impossible for someone to die in the Anti-Void and Doodlesphere.” Reaper smirked as he pulled his scythe out. He swung it at Error who darted to the side.

“If he can leave so easily, then why do you leave him in here all the time?” Error smirked.

“Because he needs Goth with him. Goth is his son, meaning they share some coding, meaning it can stabilize Geno,” Reaper answered. “That and he can’t stay out for more than a day without more damage,” that answer made Error growl. In response Reaper laughed and dodged some strings.

“You can’t kill me so whatcha gonna do?” He hummed and Error groaned.

“I’ll tire you out then send you to your au. Maybe I’ll even lock up this one so Geno can’t come back. Fight me until you're too exhausted to stand and I might not.” Error hummed and Reaper nodded blankly.

“Will Mr.Reaper be okay?” Palette sat next to a now asleep Goth.

“I hope so buddy.” Geno hummed and Palette smiled before looking at his friend who, at 6 years old and a few months younger than Palette, was fast asleep against the couch in Inks ‘home’.

“He better be. Gothy will cry if he’s not and I don’t want that.” He huffed and Dream smiled from his spot in the doorway.

“I bet you don’t. Let’s get you two to bed. Do you think Goth wants the top or bottom bunk?” Dream asked his son who looked extremely thoughtful for a moment before his eyes lit up.

“Top bunk! He always loves floating down in the mornings!” He laughed and Dream nodded as he scooped up Goth. Palette didn’t complain about not being picked up and followed his mother up the stairs.

“Are you doing okay Geno?” Ink asked as soon as Dream had pulled the kids out of earshot.

“No. I’m not… Ink I’m terrified.” Geno finally allowed himself to start crying. Ink rushed towards him.

“Hey! Hey! Calm down! Error can’t kill Reaper because he’s from an original au so he’s safe. I promise. All he can do is exhaust him and injure him. Reaper will live.” Ink whispered and Geno leaned away and shook his head.

“That makes no sense! Error was trying to kill me! You said I’m the original Geno so why would he try and kill me?” He snapped and Ink nearly jumped away from the angry permanently dying skeleton.

“Y-you don’t know? I thought you knew- he was-“ Ink began rambling when a portal opened and Reaper stumbled through. Error followed out too.

“You're free for no original. Just know that I will kill you one day.” Error hissed before leaving.

“Error was from the first AfterTale copy.” Ink whispered. It hit Geno like a brick and he stumbled backwards, his eyes wide.

“Geno!” Reaper ran to his side before Geno completely collapsed. He opened his mouth to say something before his eye sockets closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Geno!” A portal from one save screen to another opened up and a copy of himself with glasses jumped through.

“You're Geno too.” The original hummed and the copy laughed.

“Yea but you're the original. I’m called V2 for a reason, dummy.” He laughed. Geno stood up and lightly flicked the others forehead.

“Yea but I shouldn’t be called Geno too. What should I be called?” Geno pushed his copy, V2, his little brother, down onto the ground. He sat next to him and V2 grinned.

“Then I’ll call you Gen! It’s simple and it's like Genesis, like the first!” V2 grinned and Geno- Gen or Genesis- grinned and nodded.

“That sounds great V2. Now we gotta figure out a different name for you and V3. Speak of V3, where is our ‘brother’?” Genesis asked and V2 shrugged.

“Probably dealing with his own issues. Anyway, did you meet the creator? What’s he like?” V2 moved closer and Gen, like most nights when they would meet up and talk, began to tell his stories of his time in the multiverse. 

He could leave the save screen for short periods of time but he always had to come back within an hour because he’d start to dust. The first couple times, the other Geno’s began to panic. That was the first time V2 called him his brother. Gen decided after that, that he was their older brother, the eldest of 3 AfterTale sans’.

“Guys! I’m here!” V3 ran into the save screen and both others started laughing. V3 pouted before laughing as well.

“Hey three! Oh by the way, V2 decided I should be called Gen and or Genesis.” Gen hummed. V3 -who they usually just called Three- grinned.

“I like it!”

“Ink you're going crazy! Our multiverse isn’t endless!” Gen balled his fists.

“If anything happens, it will just be a few copies affected, no biggie. Copies aren’t a priority AfterTale sans.” Ink hummed and Genesis felt anger build in his throat until ReaperTale Sans -his datemate who had recently proposed to become his soulmate- grabbed his arm. ReaperTale sans, who preferred to go by Reaper, knew about his ‘brothers’ and simply pulled him into a hug.

“Gen don’t-“ 

“MY COPIES ARE MY BROTHERS YOU ASSHOLE!” Genesis snapped and Ink turned in shock.

“AfterTale sans-“

“Please don’t call him that. His brothers named him Genesis.” Reaper tried to keep Gen in his arms. 

“You two can’t be serious. I told you all not to get attached.” Ink snapped and Genesis laughed bitterly.

“Oh smart, how smart you are. It’s not like AfterTale sans’ aren’t stuck in the save screen which, might I mention, blends with copies save screens. I’ve known them since before I met you. Hell, V2’s been begging to meet you and Three has been trying to leave the save screen for a month!” Gen snapped and Reaper gave up on trying to hold him back. Instead he just hid his face in Genesis’ neck. Ink scoffed and soon Genesis was shoved back into the save screen by an angry Reaper who had begun arguing with Ink.

Gen didn’t know how they started arguing.

He didn’t remember when he passed out.

How long had he been in the Anti-Void?

When had the hour passed?

Why did he feel like he was dying again?

Where were his brothers?

Oh god his brothers. He couldn’t find the copies, couldn’t feel them. His brothers! His brothers! Where were his brothers?

“Gen!” A voice called and Genesis, in his fuzzy state, saw Reaper carrying Three. Was that actually three? He didn’t look like three. He was so colorful, he wasn’t Three, was he?

“Three? Reaper?” Genesis whispered and Three pushed himself out of Reapers arms.

“How long has it been since the collapse?” Three asked and Reaper frowned.

“A couple years. Ink locked the au and Gen must have nearly died. He hasn’t been fully awake. I’ve tried to get here but he wasn’t awake enough to let me in.” Reaper hummed and Three nodded.

“Three… your alive…” Gen reached out and his youngest brother rushed to him.

“Genesis… my god your alive… I- I’m not Three anymore. They call me Fresh.” Three -no, Fresh- whispered and Genesis called against his baby brother.

“Alive. I’ll call you alive and be thankful I can.” 

They didn’t see V2. Gen wouldn’t ever see V2 as his little brother. He wouldn’t remember V2 or Three soon. Genesis would end up dying during a hunt for V2. He would hear his younger brother's glitchy voice call for him. He would know it was Error, but then those memories would fade. Those memories would disappear.

Genesis awoke. He was Geno again. He didn’t remember being called Genesis. He wouldn’t remember V2 or Three. He wouldn’t remember being with Reaper. He would only remember what was drilled into the minds of every AfterTale sans.

“Who are you?” Geno asked as Ink introduced Reaper. Ink had always felt guilty. He hadn’t actually meant to collapse the copies. He locked AfterTale in an attempt to save all three Geno’s.

“I-I’m Reaper. Nice to meet you.” Reaper stood in front of Geno.

“And- I-I’m Fresh! What’s up brosef?” Fresh pushed forward and Geno laughed softly.

“Hello Fresh, Reaper, nice to meet you both.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“M-my brother! You ass!” Geno sat up and glared at Ink who smiled.

“Well that’s rude but yes.”

Geno sat against Reaper as he retold what he had remembered to both Goth and Palette who listened excitedly.

“That sounds so cool momma! Was that mean man really your brother?” Goth asked and Geno, with a grin, pulled his son onto his lap and nuzzled his forehead.

“Of course. He’s not really mean, I think he’s just upset.” Geno hummed and Goth smiled at his mother.

“Do you think, if he tried to get to know me, that he would like me?” Goth asked as he left Palette's side, climbing into Geno’s lap.

“I’m almost positive he would Goth…” Geno kissed his son's skull before looking up at Reaper.

“It’s gonna take time but we will fix this all.” Reaper whispered

Word count: 2134.

And if you guys wanna see more about this storyline but differently put together, you can find Sheltered Soul here.

[swan--writes]

Bath Time

(I was listening to the live version of Cherry Wine by Hozier while writing this.)

Alrighty y’all, here’s part two! This one is a bit shorter than part one, but I kind of don’t mind it. Part one can be found here.

Warnings: references to sex, non-sexual nudity, kissing

You didn’t always hate your job, but when you did, you goddamn despised it. There was the day your computer glitched out and you lost a full day of work. The day your coworker had passed an angry customer off to you, and you had to sit at your desk through lunch to talk him down. Of course, you would never forget the day your current boss had first taken over her managerial office. Sheer and utter chaos. She had learned quickly, but dear Christ had that first day been rough.

Today took the cake. Your office had a managers’ meeting. Normally you liked your boss, and you knew some of the other managers. Having every manager in the district in the same building had been excessive though, and you needed to find a way to relax. Your legs were burning and your shoulders were tense – you had been running around all day, carrying redundant messages to ungrateful people and trying your best to prevent fires from starting and putting out the ones that did.

When you got home, Beetlejuice was still gone. He had left on Wednesday night for some Netherworld business that you had already forgotten the details of. Frankly, you weren’t sure you wanted to know. The demon had said he would be back on Friday evening, and so far he had never been late. For all his many…many faults, Beetlejuice was always punctual. Unfortunately, some of those faults made it difficult to relax and de-stress.

If you told Beetlejuice that you needed both of those things, you knew what he would suggest, and that if you took him up on it you wouldn’t leave your bedroom all weekend. Tempting as that idea was, you did have some errands and at least one project to take care of that weekend. Besides, you had sweat through your shirt and your sweater by the time you got home. You knew you needed a shower, but the thought of standing for that long was overwhelming. What you really wanted was a bath.

Without waiting for Beetlejuice, you walked into your bathroom. Your old roommate thought you were being overindulgent when you bought your bathtub, but the house was in your name so to hell with it. It was a large tub, with a black exterior and a shiny white interior. You undressed, wrapped yourself in a towel, and dug through your designated Bath Drawer. There were scented epsom salts, dried flowers, some half-empty bottles of bath soap, and a few tightly bound scrolls from your pre-demon boyfriend days. (God, he was your boyfriend. Would you ever get over that?) (Doubtful.) Come to think of it, maybe he should join you.

Ever since you had introduced Beetlejuice to showers, the demon had been obsessed. This was probably a good thing, considering how easily he got dirty. Beetlejuice couldn’t really feel pain and he still enjoyed body horror and bio-exorcisms and dramatically impaling himself on the gate surrounding your house for your entertainment. He would regularly emerge from the woods near your home covered in God knows what, and you had a sneaking suspicion that at least part of the reason he did it was so he would have an excuse to take a shower. It didn’t hurt that he usually needed your help getting all that mud and dead-guy blood and whatever else off of him. Maybe he would enjoy a bath.

After a few moments of carefully considering the contents of your Bath Drawer, you picked out an orange vanilla scented soap and starting filling the bathtub with water as hot as you could stand. You would be in this bath for a long, long time. While it was filling, you lit a few candles and turned out the lights. The bathroom was still bright enough that you could navigate it easily. Already, you could feel some of the tension leaving you.

So when Beetlejuice knocked on the bathroom door, you jumped.

“Honey, I’m home.” The door remained closed, but his voice was definitely in the room with you. Despite the jump scare, you couldn’t be annoyed. It was very him. You liked things that were very him. “Whatcha up to in there, sweet cheeks?”

“Beetlejuice, have you ever taken a bath?”

You heard him falter. “What?”

Not answering, you got up from your kneeling position beside the tub and opened the bathroom door. He had been leaning on the other side of the door, and when you opened it, he didn’t move. Now leaning on air, Beetlejuice frowned at you curiously. Thankfully, he wasn’t too dirty. No need to hose him down outside before letting him into your citrusy bathwater.

“Come on.” You took his strong, steady hand and gently pulled him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t about to refuse you when you were right in front of him wearing nothing but a towel, and he came with you easily. “I’ve had a long day, I thought this might be a good way to relax. And since you love showers so much…”

By now there was a small mountain of bubbles floating on the water. You shut off the faucet and stuck your arm into the bath to swirl the foam around more evenly. When you turned back to look at Beetlejuice, he was staring wide-eyed at the tub.

“Is that soap foam?” You nodded, knowing he couldn’t smell it too well but glad that he still seemed able to appreciate it. His eyes lit up. There was a closeness between the two of you. His pale skin shone in the dim light, and the candles softened his demonic features. In the low light, his hair looked soft and his skin looked warm. With the wonder on his face, Beetlejuice almost looked human. You smiled absently. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“You’ve never scared someone in a bath before?”

“Usually I’m scaring them out of a bath.” You took his hand and kissed it, then unwrapped your towel. There was a rack beside your bathtub and, ignoring Beetlejuice’s stare, you hung the towel from the rack and stepped into the tub. You sighed at the heat of the water and lowered yourself into it gently, but you didn’t lean against the edge. When you looked up at your demon boyfriend again, he was fidgeting, apparently speechless. Though the wonder was still firmly in place in his expression, he also seemed nervous. “Uh…” Beetlejuice pointed to the water, then to himself. “…can I come in too?”

Did he think you were going to say no?

Your brow creased in sympathy, but you fought to keep your expression open. If you shut down, even a little, he might feel rejected. You thought about giving him a speech about how you always accepted him, or about how he should feel totally welcome in your home. You could tell him how much you cared for him and how you loved spending time with him. How you wanted to give him all the human experiences you could. How you could always make a space for him. All of those things were true.

But all of those things, you realized, could wait. This didn’t have to be a teaching moment when you could just show him that you cared. For now, a nod and a small smile were enough. The joy that spread across his face was worth it.

Beetlejuice shrugged out of his jacket immediately. You watched him take off his tie and unbutton his shirt. He didn’t give you a show – didn’t even offer. It was endearing in more ways than one. Beetlejuice removed his striped button-down and his undershirt. The candlelight rolled around the lovely slope of his pale shoulders. It struck you, not for the first time, that despite being dead, this demon was so much more than a lump of cold flesh. Though you felt it when you cuddled him, and you felt it during sex, there was something about the lighting and the warmth of the bathroom that belied his intensity. Beetlejuice’s movements were so smooth and his skin seemed to glow and the reality of him surrounded your heart like so much comforting water and soft light and warmth.

When Beetlejuice slipped into the bath behind you, you shifted into his arms without hesitation. He leaned against the back of the tub and you rested your back against his beautifully soft stomach, your shoulders falling against his accommodating chest. He wrapped one cozy arm around you and kissed your ear. His other hand dove into the foam, stretching and squeezing experimentally. He made piles of bubbles and flicked them. You smiled and tilted your head, craning your neck so you could kiss his chin, nosing at his scruff once you had. Beetlejuice moved his head down just a bit so you could reach his lips. Once you were satisfied that you had kissed him enough for now, you turned back to face forward and fully relaxed into him. You really had missed him while he was gone.

It was still for a minute. Then, you felt Beetlejuice’s free hand tugging at the elastic in your hair. He didn’t ask and you didn’t say anything. You simply leaned your head forward just enough for him to pull the elastic free. You felt his fingers chasing it away before returning to your scalp. His other arm held you secure, not stroking or exploring. He just held you. The last of the tension left your body with the tangles he was combing out of your hair.

Buy Me a Coffee?