#That's sounding pretty good to me actually what do youse think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecatchat · 2 years

Note

found my first ever dimensions drabble! Changed the name to Cue but nothing else

---

“You know, you really should do that.”

“Pardon?”

“I- sorry, that just slipped out. I don’t mean to sound preachy.”

“No I mean I didn’t understand youse. Do what?”

“Smoke. It’s... pretty bad for you.”

The man just took another drag, staring Karl down with blank puzzlement.

“Ah, tobacco is-“ Karl was interrupted by the stranger coughing, shaking on his inhale.

“You- ahck- tobacco? You think I’m suicidal or somethin, out here puffing on coffin nails? ‘S ain’t a cigarette!” He waved his hand around as he talked, enunciating his words. Karl wrinkled his nose at the smoke but not because it was bad, only because it was strong. Different. It didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. In fact, it smelled kind of nice, like vanilla but spicy.

“Oh, uh, what is it then?”

The man put the strange-smelling stick back in his mouth. “You a sap?”

“Hey, it’s just a question!”

“It’s sugar smoke. Candy. You suck in suck in the dust, it melts and turns to smoke, you blow it out. Ya get all the flavor without needing to absorb any ‘o the junk stuff. Cigarettes don’t look nothing like them, but I guess you could get confused.”

“Oh, that’s... really cool actually. Are you trying to be healthier?”

He snorted, raising his hand to his head in laughter. “Oh, healthy. Mmm. No. I like the taste.” He pulled out a nearly empty box with a few little sugar sticks left and reached out, offering. Karl hesitated for a moment before selecting one, it was a little purple.

“So, do I need a light or...”

“I told you, it ain’t a cigarette.”

“Right.”

He awkwardly set the stick in his mouth. It tasted like sweet paper (but still paper). He guessed he should open it somehow. But, how? He bit the tip of it, jumping at the sudden sting of flavor. It was something he didn’t quite know the name of, sharp and sweet, vaguely like blueberries and red cinnamon dipped in static.

“Mmm!” He exclaimed, causing the man to smile and laugh. It was a sweet look on him, soft, genuine, happiness.

“Tastes good, don’t it?”

“Yeah, I think? It- ACHK,” Karl choked as he inhaled the sudden puff of smoke in his mouth. He forgot he was supposed to blow the stuff out.

The well-dressed man flicked away his own stick and raised an eyebrow. “Youse sure you ain’t a sap?”

“Oh, ha ha. Anyway, I’m Karl.” He stuck his hand out, a small goofy smile slipping across his face. “I’m... new around here.”

“Oh, ya don’t say?” The man half-rolled his eyes but took Karl’s hand happily. “Name’s Cue, I run the casino ‘cross the ways there.” He gestured to a flashy building down the street.

“Whoah. Cool.”

“You gamble?”

“Ah, you could say that.”

“Meaning?”

“It depends,” Karl clicked his tongue, playfully eyeing the building in the distance. “I play a lot a lot of games.”

“Well,” Cue chuckled “if you’re ever lookin for a good time, swing by. We might be able to find a game or two you can… enjoy.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Karl smiled. He liked this guy. “No, you know what? Defiantly. I’ll come by sometime, count on it!”

“I’ll hold you to that. I- fuck, speaking of my work I should be getting back.”

“Oh,” Karl frowned, sad to see his new friend gone too soon. He’d kind of hoped to talk more.

Cue seemed to share the sentiment. He stopped a few steps away and turned around, glancing to the empty road rather than looking Karl in the eye.

“Hey, uh, Karl…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’s best if ya sticks with me for a bit, yeah? This part ‘o town ain’t right for newcomers to be wandering on their own… ‘specially not a pretty cat like youse. I mean, no offense, but you kinda look like a nut.”

“I-“ Karl glanced down at himself. His coat, even paled in this world’s strange light, stuck out like a rainbow in the snow. “Oh, yeah. I don’t exactly blend in. I always forget the outfits…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Personally, I think ya’d look keen in just about anything but folks ‘round here are arrogant, neighborhood reputations and business and all that.”

“I guess I should find something else to wear. Any recommendations?”

Cue eyed him up and down. “I got… a few ideas. I- you know what? Come with me. Imma get ya dolled up fine.”

“I thought you had to go back to work?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he scoffed. “Charlie can cover me for a while. I’d rather talk s’more with yo- I- I mean, I wanna see you in- I mean- I-“

“I’d love to!” Karl jumped in, saving Cue from his stammering.

“Well then,” Cue smiled and held out his arm, face just a little pink “shall we?”

Karl linked his arm. “As I said, I’d love to.”

I remember this one!!!!! I was confused about the slang and you introduced me to my first does of 1920s slang. It's so cute and Karl is being so sweet and curious!

I wonder how long it took Quackity to realize just how unnaturally bright Karl was? When did he realize that Karl's clothes weren't some kind of special fabric or that he wasn't being lit up by another light sorce? It's obvious that he's brighter than everyone else, but how bright is a fashion statement and how bright is flat out unnatural?

Like, I know they got on well enough at first but how did the whole "I travel to different dimensions" thing get brought up? How long did it take for Cue to go from "weird but cute guy" to "something isn't right here"? Maybe it's just because I've been on a horror podcast streak, but I kinda want Cue to have a moment of "What are you?" Type thing.

I think that extends to all the characters in Prowa that start interacting with him regularly. Like, Karl is obviously a sweetheart and wouldn't hurt anyone without very good reason, but what is he like from a distance? Do people see him in the park with Cue and notice how he's just a sliver too vivid? Do people catch hints of swirling colored smoke when they look at him from the corner of their eye?

#karlnapity dimensions #i love the change between the sweet story and my horror themed questions

2 notes · View notes

mycelestialtears · 2 years

Note

Yes, it’s Tea again- I hope you’re day/night/afternoon/evening or whatever is going well! I dearly hope I’m not bothering by the way. So this time I wanted to see another Yancy one! The first one you did was so cute and well written. I was thinking that he gets into a fight and the reader panics and helps patches him up while Yancy is just questioning on how much the reader actually cares for him. And then they both confess their love blah blah blah, and then cuddle all night! Write when you can, I don’t want to rush you! <3

hi againnn omg do not think you're bothering me!! i like your ideas very much! <3 enjoy

Wounded

Pairing: Yancy x GN!Reader

It was late at night. You were sitting on your bed, knees pulled up towards your chest. A book and a flashlight in hand, which were both graciously given to you by a guard.

Too invested in your own little world, you didn't notice the figure standing right in front of your bed. You felt a calloused hand press against your leg, causing you to quickly drop your book and point your flashlight in front of you. "Yancy? What the hell are you doing?" You exclaim, confused and startled. He doesn't respond yet. Instead, he just sits at the end of your bunk with his back hunched slightly. You gather yourself, sitting up to tie the string of your flashlight to the top bunk's metal bars. The light isn't very bright, but it's enough to be able to see each other. You look back to Yancy, who sits silent. That's when you noticed the blood on his shirt and the various contusions along his face. "Yancy!-" You tumble onto your knees over to him, carefully grabbing his face to examine the skin. He looks dazed. Possibly concussed? You didn't know. Your face was painted with worry. "What happened to you?" You ask, and yet again he doesn't respond. Your worry grows. "Yancy, look at me." You bring your hand to his cheek, lightly tapping it in attempt to bring him back from wherever he was mentally. He finally looks at you. "I'm sorry." "Sorry for what?" Your voice reflects your inner panic, Yancy picked up on that. He felt the need to calm you down, even if he really wasn't all there. He was actually hit pretty badly, but he knew he had been through worse. "Don't... don't worry. I'm okay... Really." His accent sounds a bit different than it usually does. That's irrelevant. You relax slightly, letting your knees bend so that you're sitting. "You really scared me..." You tell him. He frowns, looking down at his injured knuckles. "Will you tell me what happened? That looks so painful, Yance." You lean closer to look at his bruised eye. It's bleeding. You remember that you have an old shirt in your things, which could be used to tend to his wounds. You crawl over to the other end of your bunk and reach onto the floor, grabbing an old duffel bag. You pull out the shirt and move back to your original spot. "Some of the guys... They waited for me... to be alone. They ganged up on me..." Yancy finally answers. Your eyes fill up with compassion and worry. "Yancy, that's terrible! I'm so sorry. Why did they do that?" He almost looks surprised to see you react in such a way. He's not used to people having sympathy for him. "I guess they sorta see me as a leader, a threat. They wanted to... take my place." You move closer to carefully clean the blood from his wound. He tenses up. Partly from the pain, but mostly from your face being so close. You make him feel nervous. Not in a bad way. Yancy ponders on it, as he is not very good at understanding his feelings. "If I could, I would kick their asses..." You mumble. After a few minutes, the bleeding has subsided. You pull the shirt back and move on to his gashed knuckles. You tear off a strip of the shirt and carefully take Yancy's hand. He squeezes your own. You crack a smile at that. "Y'know... I bet I could sneak into the supplies room... Get some rat poisoning. Sprinkle a little in their lunch..." You're only half joking. Yancy lets out a breathy laugh. "Hush, youse would never do that." You grin. "I might."

You carefully wrap the fabric around his hand. He watches, heart fluttering at the thought of you caring for him. He wanted to kiss you right now. "Hey, I gotta tell youse somthin'..." You glance up at him. "What is it?" You focus on tying off the wrap. Yancy sighs, not too sure of what to say. "I think-... I don't know. I think I like youse. I just can't stop thinking about you." He admits. You finish the tie and look up at him wide eyed. Your heart began to pound. "Really?" He broke eye contact out of nervousness, nodding. You have no words. For a while now, you have felt the same way. Keeping it to yourself out of fear of rejection. Never did you think he would be confessing to you. You lean towards him and he meets your eyes again. The both of you go in for a kiss without any hesitation. Yancy pulls you in closer, hugging your waist. You put your arms around him, before slowly pulling away. You sink into him letting your head rest on his shoulder. "I think I love you." You whisper, closing your eyes. You can feel his heart pounding against you. "I think I love youse too." You can hear his smile in how he talks.

After what felt like a lifetime of just holding each other, you fell asleep. You think surely you'll wake up and this will all be a dream. But when the morning comes, you find yourself wrapped up in his arms like a teddy bear.

#ahwm #a heist with markiplier #markiplier egos #yancy #yancy the prisoner #ahwm yancy #yancy x reader

202 notes · View notes

myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years

Text

Welcome, Father...

"Tell us, demon scum." The male agent grabbed the light from the female agent, shoving it in his face, "Who do you work for? Satan?"

"How did you get to our world from the afterlife?"

"Why are youse killing humans?"

"When did you show up here?"

The damned agents finally stoped passing the lights about, giving him a moment to adjust to the situation.

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there, bitch." He snapped at the humans, "First of all, we just woke up from a very nasty shock and I'm still feeling fuckin' woozy, so I'm gonna request you fetch us some coffee before we get into this. I mean, everyone gets coffees in shitty movies with scenes like this, am I right? I want something iced, bitch." Looking over his shoulder, he asked his employee, "Mox?"

Raising his nose, Moxxie began, "I'll have a Neopolitan cappuccino, more cappu than cino, make sure it's got no more than four ounces of milk, the beans won't have the right texture otherwise, and make sure they spell my name correctly on the cup they always put "Foxy" or "Roxy", I hate that."

"If you can't handle that, I'll have a Venti traditional Misto. Please use soy milk with two blond shots Affogato and Ristretto. I'd also love three vanilla pumps at the very bottom. Then, add the coffee after, then-"

"Enough!" The male agent snapped, "We aren't getting youse coffee!"

"Wow, I was getting massive douche chills just there, Mox." He told him proudly, "Congrats!"

"If we have to, we are willing to resort to torture methods to get answers out of you nasty hell beasts!" The female agent failed to sound threatening.

"When you say "tortured", do you mean physical or psychological?" Moxxie asked in his typical know-it-all tone, "Physical seems counterproductive; we would likely tell you anything if it meant an end to the pain, and you have no way of knowing what was true." He spouted at the humans.

"Or we might like it too much." He but in, "And then you got a whole new thing to deal with."

The male agent leaned down, raising a bore "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, you're stupid, huh? I can work with stupid. Daddy Likey Dummy!" Blitzø taunted the agent.

"Good one sir, Daddy likey-" Moxxie sputtered, squirming in his chair.

"You better stop laughin' at us." The female agent threatened.

"Yeah! You're the ones at our mercy!" The male agent yelled at him, grabbing his collar

"It's hard to resist, I'm really sorry. I mean, considering your approach thus far, you've had us tied up here for what, hours?" Mox cut in, "And you haven’t even had us confirm what exactly we are!" Moxxie mocked the agents like the nerd he was.

"What are you?" The female agent asked, a curious tone coming to the females voice.

"I'm a Virgo." Moxxie told her, smugness dripping from his voice.

Both Imps burst into laughter, the agents only getting more frustrated.

Just as the male agent was gonna snap at them, the door to the room suddenly swung open.

An unnatural amount 9f light poured into the room, blinding them all for a brief moment. Once there eyes adjust, they found a silhouette standing in the doorway.

They were dressed in black, looking up a distinct shine came from his eyes, the figure wearing glasses.

Walking into the room, the figure spoke, "The question isn't what they are? The question is why there here?" He spoke cryptically.

Stepping closer the male agent came to meet the stranger halfway, "Who da Hell ah' you and how'd you get in here?" The male agent demanded.

Raising his gaze the stranger wore a smile.

The agent noticeably reacted. Stumbling back "F-f-f-father Cain... W-what are you's doin here?" He sputtered.

This 'father' just smile at him, "My associates informed me you acquired two new specimens." He looked at him, "I've come to process them." He spoke menacingly.

Father cain looked over the agents shoulder, gazing at him and Moxxie. "Excellent job My child. I always knew my faith was well placed." The father told the agent, patting his shoulder.

The agent seemed taken aback, "Th-thank you Sir." He spoke, a lone tear sliding down his cheek.

"Father Cain?" The female agent asked, walking up to 'father' Cain. "Last I heard you were down at some beach on Spring break."

Smiling at the pair, father cain raised a finger, "Ive no time for such hedonistic pleasures. Not while the Lords work is to be done" He said happily.

"Now" He began cheerfully "I need a table if I am to do my work." He spoke firmly, raising a medium sized doctors bag, that seemed to appear from nowhere.

The male agent snapped to attention, quickly running about before rushing into the back room.

Walking forwards, Father Cain removed his glasses, staring down at him. "My, my, my, they certainly did a good job. Quite a pair of specimens you have here." He spoke to himself.

Raising a brow, Blitzø wore a little grin. "Oh yeah? You should see my junk, now thats a specimen." He spoke in his usual cocky tone.

'Father' Cain just smiled, slowly walking around to Moxxie inspecting him as well. "And unharmed, very impressive." The 'Father' told the female agent.

A moment later, the male agent returned, awkwardly dragging in a large wooden table. Dropping it down, he gave a few deep puffs, "There ya go 'Fatha', will this do?"

'Father' Cain smiled told him, gratefully telling him "That will do perfectly, thank you my child."

Walking over, the 'Father' placed his bag down before opening it and pulling out a myriad of odd and strange objects.

There was a series of shiny items and tools. Although a small wooden case caught his attention, the Imp couldn't help but think it didn't belong.

"Hey, uh, you guys seem pretty chummy and we'd hate to be a third wheel, so we'd be happy to leave you to it." He cut in smugly, hoping to get a rise from one of them.

And that he did, the male agent trying to snap at him, only to be tempered by this 'Father' Cain

Calming down, the male agent asked, "What did you mean, when you came in Sit. That it's not "What they are, it's why there here?'"

Smiling, Father Cain patted his shoulder, "I'm glad you caught that, I always knew you were sharp."

He smoke warmly, "I said that because, simply put. I know what they are. They are Imps." He said it simply.

That actually surprised him, even Moxxie reacted, releasing the slightest gasp.

Looking over the father just had a eerie smile, clearly happy with there reaction.

Both agents looked confused, "Imps?" They asked each other.

The father released a deep sigh, "Yes, Imps. Imps are the very lowest of the low in hell, as well as the lowest of the Hellbornes, or Hellspawn, I can never seem to remember which is the proper term."

Walking over, Father Cain placed a finger under his chin, raising his head to meet his gaze. "Your responsible for the death of a two hundred and sixty three humans." He told him coldly.

"Yeah, but I wanna know is why?" The female agent asked, "If they were just killing humans for shits and giggles, why not just kill wherever and whenever?" She asked.

Nodding his head, "Because..." Father Cain stood up, "They do serve a higher demon, but not Satan."

Standing up, the 'Father' walked to his bag, pulling a yellow folder out. "They've killed hundreds, and the only thing that connects them...? Death."

There was another pause, before he spoke again, "But not there deaths. Each person they've killed has had someone directly related to there lives die in the past decade."

Walking over to the Imps, the 'Father' showed them a series of pictures. Blitzø recognised them... they were targets they'd killed.

"There not killing them for a demon lord, there killing them for other human souls. I imagine with a the ability to travel to the human world, you've turned revenge into a buisness." He said simply, tossing the pictures to the side.

Crouching down, the 'Father' stared at him coldly before asking "Who's book did you use to get here, Demon?"

Blitzø stared back at him, the Imp doing his best to keep calm. But he could tell this human was clearly more dangerous than the other two idiot 'demon hunters'.

Standing up, 'Father' Cain told the other agents coldly, "Leave us. Remove any cameras. I dont want any sort of witness."

"What?" The female agent asked aghast, "We caught these 'Imps' there our score and we'll be interrogating them." She snapped at the 'Father', only for the the father to calmly stare at her.

Before he could speak, the male agent grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her out of the room he spoke hastily "P-please forgive her, Sir. She doesn't fully understand the importance of your work."

The female agent put a fight, but was quickly pulled out of the room, slamming it behind him.

Now with just the three of them, 'Father' Cain removed his glasses before placing them on the table.

Stretching his neck, he removed the white collar piece at the front of his shirt, placing it in his coat pocket.

"Now" he began coldly "shall we begin the fun?"

Turning around, Blitzø decided now was a good time to speak up. "Fun, aye? What kinda fun we talkin. Shots, blow, maybe a good old fashioned threesome?" He asked, hoping to get under this 'Father' Cain's skin.

He was surprised, however, when the 'Father' just laughed, glancing over his shoulder at him.

"Your tricks won't work on me demon. I'm used to your tricks by now." He spoke happily, grabbing a small gun like object. Placing that down, he inspected a series of bottles.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Blitzø spoke up. "You clearly know more us then those dumbass agent dickwads did, so... what's your game?" He asked, trying to be serious.

The human stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder, he spoke up, "I know much about you. For instance, your the other Imps boss, hence he calls you Sir." He spoke coyly, still inspecting the myriad of items he'd brought.

"I also know you've killed people on three different continants, although I wonder how many you came up to kill specifically and how many were collateral." He spoke again.

Turning around he held a small bottle, walking forwards he leaned over Blitzø "I also know you can only get to the living world if your a succubus, a demon lord, or... you have a Grimoire."

Blitzø chuckled, "What is that some kinda fish?" He asked, trying to play dumb.

The 'Father' chuckled, shaking his head, "Besides how do you know I'm not a succubus, I can hold my own in the sack." He spoke smugly.

The 'Father' stared at him, an eerie smile crossing his lips.

"You want to know how i know what you are?" He asked coldly, cold eyes sending a shiver down his spine and not in the good way.

Before he could ask what I was, the father reach forwards, ripping a hole in his pants leg. "What the fuck?!" He yelled at him, "These are my good pants!"

Not minding him, the 'Father' removed a second bottle. "This" He showed him a small blue bottle, "Is poisen to Succubus." He said simply, opening the bottle and revealing an eye dropper, dropping two little droplets on his leg.

Nothing happened, the cool liquid sliding down and observing into his pant leg. Putting the bottle away He showed the original brown bottle, "This... is for Imps." He said simply.

Opening the bottle, it revealed another eye drop, holding it over his thigh, he dropped a single drop on his leg.

This time his whole body reacted, he pulled against his bindings as he released a blood curdling screech.

It felt like someone was jamming a molten hot poker into his thigh. It went on for minutes, the Imp whining in pain. "What the fuck do you want you sick fuck?!" Blitzø yelled at him.

A small smile crossed the 'Father's' lips before he stood up and told him "I want to show you something."

Walking over to the table, he grabbed that wooden case before bringing it over to the Imps.

Crouching down besides the both of them, he told the both of them "These are my most prized possessions." He spoke warmly, running his hand across the wooden case.

"What'cha got there? Ya dildo collection?" He tried to sound smug, though the Imp was still writhing in pain.

He heard moxxie tried to laugh, but it died in his throat, the smaller Imp still terrified by his boss's earlier reaction.

Opening the case, he revealed several colourful arrow heads, each one varying in size, shape and colour.

It took a long time, the imp looking over the arrow heads before he realised, 'Those aren't arrow heads... there demon tails.'

"Fuck..." Blitzø gasped, he heard Moxxie sputter out a similar cuss, just as scared behind him.

The 'Father' on the other hand, seemed quite proud, gently trailing his fingers across the tail heads.

"These are my life's work" He spoke calmly, "I've dedicated my life to hunting demons like you." He trailed his fingers across the tails, "Most of these are from Succubus. They can come and go from my world to yours the easiest, so most of the demons we find are Succubus."

He pointed to two crimson tail tips, "But these two... these two are special."

Leaning in, he spoke gently "These two... are from Imps." The revelation seemed to bring bile into the back of Blitzøs throat.

"Jesus..." moxxie said shakily, turning his head and throwing up.

Blitzø took a deep breath, doing his best not to throw up. Looking back at the human he found him holding up a tail head.

"This one" he told him, twirling it between his fingers, "I got at a little beach city. The city getting my attention after a giant demonic fish had popped up. Sound familiar." He asked with a smirk.

"Unfortunately most of them had used there demonic charm to escaped the police before I arrived... key word being, 'most'." He told him, turning his attention back on the tail head.

"I got this one from a succubus. She hid herself as a chubby little black woman. She played dumb, just like you, and much like you she was cocky and ignorant." Placing the tail tip into the container, he said coldly, "But now..."

He left the question open, clearly trying get in there heads. The problem being... it was working.

Standing up the human didn't speak for several long moments, before he placed the case on Blitzøs lap, gently telling him "Hold this"

Blitzø's whole body froze up, a deep sickness growing in his stomach as he felt the cool wooden case on his lap.

The human walked over to the mirror Blitzø only just noticed. The human stared at it for a long moment, the silence in the room becoming palpable.

Until the silence was dashed when the 'Father' smashed his arm through the mirror, before throwing his body back smashing the male agent through the mirror and slamming him into the wall.

Looking at his slumped form, 'Father Cain turned back to the now broken mirror, finding the terrified female agent standing there.

Releasing a deep sigh, the 'father' began climbing in through the now broken double sided mirror.

"It was your doing, wasn't it?" He asked, "I said I needed no witnesses, but you always did hold him back. What a waste of potential." The 'Father' told her, before grabbing her and dragging her through the window.

Bringing her to her knees, he grasped the sides of her head.

The woman desperately clawing at his arms. The female agent releasing a desperate cry for mercy as he began crushing her head.

Blood began trailing from her eyes and nose, crying out until her head splattered between his hands, sending a splatter of bone and brain matter across his face.

Dropping her now destroyed head, he realised it, the now sludge like head hit the ground with a wet splat.

Before the 'Father' flicked his hands, looked back at the Imps, "What the fuck are you?!" Blitzø yelled at him.

The human only smiled, walking over, he gently grabbed the wooden case before walking back over and placing it on the table.

Walking over to the now collapsed male agent, he placed his foot on the side of his head. "I... am alpha and Omega." He said coldly, staring him right in the eyes before crushing the other agents head beneath his foot.

Walking back to the table, he grabbed a red cloth, wiping his face before placing on his glasses he turned to the two Imps.

"Oh Satan... Oh, Satan please, please help me" Moxxie begged, clearly losing his shit. "Please just let me see Millie one last time, I don't want to die."

Before Blitzø could snap at his limp dick employee for showing weakness, the roof began to rumble, bit suddenly gave way, Millie falling through carrying a battle axe.

"MILLIE!!!" Moxxie practically cried, tears of joy beading in his eyes.

"MOX!" Millie cried back, rushing over and getting them out of ther bindings.

Just after that Loona broke through the door, Blitzø taking a moment to tell her how proud he was to see her in the field.

Now all free and together they turned to the 'Father', finding him still very much cool and collected, the sight sending a bone chilling shiver down his spine.

"Just in time" The human spoke, seemingly happy at the outcome "Its so good to see a family reunited."

"Now I imagine one of you have my Grimoire?" He asked inspecting his fingers. "Give it to me and I'll let you leave."

Now it was Blitzøs turn to chuckle, "Nah, I don't think so." He spoke cockily, reaching into his emergency pack for a gun.

The 'Father' just chuckled again, standing up straight he snapped his finger. And like it were choreographed, dozens of suit wearing humans burst into the room.

"Gentlemen!" He addressed them "These demonic scum have killed your commanders. And they shall do it again and again and again, until you send them back to hell." He told them, stepping into the back room.

The fight after that was one of the best Blitzø had ever had, although it would have been even better if he didn't have this injured leg.

Regardless, the whole thing was so bad ass and everyone was working together so well. He even got to see his Loony kick some ass.

Firing a missle, from his over sized launcher, he cleared what was left of the agents.

He'd though that was it, there weren't anybody left to stop them.

He was wrong.

The lights to switch to red, an alarm start blaring through the facility.

They all made for the door, only for a series of doors to slam in there face, locking them in the room.

His Loony tried desperately to read the book, but couldn't see anything in the crimson light that filled the room

It was then he heard a slow clapping, all of them turning to find the 'Father' giving them a condescending clap.

"Well done, Hellspawn, Well done. You've killed all the witnesses, depleted your ammunition and now I know you can't read the Grimoire in crimson light. Well done."

Standing before them, even outnumbered and unharmed, the 'Father' seemed to hold total control of the situation.

Before he could think of something any, all the air seemed to such out of the room, demonic whispers filling the room like shadows.

"You dare threaten my Impish little plaything~" the whispers spoke.

He knew this voice, but like his friends and family, he chose not to speak, too caught up in the moment.

Screens flew off the wall, avian footprints trailed across the floor. The bodies of the dead agents rose to there feet, eyes black as they began the intricate process of drawing some demonic symbol from there own blood.

Stepping back the 'Fther' looked about, before smiling, "Finally" He whispered, pulling out a flask and began chugging it.

Shadows seemed to slither like a million black snakes crawled across the floor, disappearing at the 'Fathers' feet.

There was a long pause before the human bent over and violently projectile vomited, throwing up what seemed like gallons of black liquid from his mouth.

The vomiting stopped, the human standing back up.

The back liquid slowly pulled itself to gathering, slowly morphing into a figure.

The black tar slowly formed into feathers, limbs and fingers, a set of crimson eyes appearing in the black goo.

The figure appeared to be Stolas. But this was not the elegant demon lord of hell.

This being was a wretched, wounded animal, covered in filth.

The 'Father' just wiped his mouth, that cold gaze returning to his eyes. Stepping forwards he grabbed Stolas by the filthy collar, staring him down.

The owl demon was a sputtering mess, coughing up black liquids as he tried to breathproperly.

The owl looked up at him.

And for the very first time in wjat was likely a millennia of existence, Stolas looked Terrified.

Not scared.

Terrified.

Grabbing at the arms of the human, the Prince of Hell sputtered out, "W-what are you?"

The human stopped, looking down at the owl, leaning down and whispered, "I am the beginning... and i am the end..."

The owl just stared up at him in horror, the humans hand coming to wrap around his throat, the demon feebly attempting to break free from his grasp.

There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was the prince's pitiful wheezing, frail little cries coming from the owl as the life was squeezed out of him.

The sounds were seemingly corked by a wet smack ringing out.

Blitzø had taken one of the agents weapons, a large knife and had impaled the 'Human' through the lower stomach.

There was a long moment of silence, before the 'human' slowly turned to look at him with that same cold gaze.

Without releasing Stolas, he pulled his arm back and smacked Blitzø, sending him sliding back to his friends.

Reaching down, he grabbed the knife, yanking it out of his back without hesitation.

Nothing came from his wound, and when pulling the knife out, no blood stained it's blade.

With knife in hand, he released the owl, letting his pathetic form hit the ground, the owl desperately gasping for breath.

Leaning down, you grasped Stolas' wrist, the owl releasing a pathetic little gasp of pain, followed by a frail little whimper as the 'Human' slid the blade across his wrist.

But what came next left them all shocked.

Bringing his wrist to his mouth, he pressed his mouth down before greedily suckling the foul blood straight from his veins.

He drank down the demons fowl blood, not making a sound cept the muscles of his throat contracting to push the fowl liquid down his throat.

The demons black blood flowed down his throat. Every demon in the room just watched, to shocked to think and to fearful to do anything as you had your way with the Prince.

After a few minutes of the 'Father' drinking the demons blood, he finally released the demons wrist. The owl quickly clutching his wrist to his chest as he desperately clawing to get away from the 'human'.

The 'Father' stood there, panting as a demons black blood stained his lips.

When he finally opened his eyes, they held a Unholy glint to them.

Wiping his lips he walked forwards, calmly packing what few items had survived the fighting into his bag before Putting on his glasses and placing the small white band into his shirt collar.

Walking past the now cowering demon Prince, he leaned over and pressed one of the buttons on the dashboard, instantly the lights returned to normal.

Stepping before the group they awaited some sort of attack, or threat, what they got instead was a single phrase "Excuse me."

He said it so simply, each hellborne took a moment to make sure they'd heard correctly.

Each of them just stared for a moment before Millie spoke up, "What?"

The human raised a brow, lowering his glasses he asked again, this time his voice cold, threateningly cold, "Excuse me."

The demons awkwardly stepped to the side, giving him a clear path to walk.

Walking past them he gave them a slight nod, "Thank you."

The demons were all in shock, silently watching the 'human' walk away from them.

"That's it?" Blitzø asked before he could stop himself, quickly slamming his hands to his mouth.

The 'Father' stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder, he smiled, "Kill you later." He told them playfully, lowering his glasses and giving them a wink.

He walked away, the eerie sound of his shoes on cold tile floors permanently burned into there memory.

Hey Hey, I hope you enjoyed. I really wanted to try something a bit different. I had the idea for this in my head since episode 6 came out and I just really like the idea of an unknown entity showing up with either motive or intentions clear to anyone.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I really wanna start writing more of my own original ideas, so expect more content in the future. Bye Bye.

#helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss I.M.P #truth seekers #episode 6 truth seekers #helluva boss truth seekers #helluva boss original character #not really clear what im doing #just going with the flow #my own idea

125 notes · View notes

even-more-incorrect-ego-quotes · 3 years

Text

[Thanksgiving at the Iplier Mansion]

Y/N: So, who’s making the dinner?

Host: Host says it’s customary for the newest members to cook for the holidays. However, Y/N will find not everyone follows this rule.

*Annus comes strolling in from the kitchen with the “turkey”*

Annus: Viola! A labor of love and time, to be enjoyed just once and then never again!

*Dark pinches the bridge of his nose*

Dark: Annus, for the last time, play-doh is not a viable substance to consume. Go back to your coffin and think about what you’ve done.

*Annus sulks away while Bim pulls out a plate of “ham” from under the table*

Bim: Luckily I always come prepared for these things. How does roasted Ham sound?

Ed Edgar: I don’t know what in the sam heck that is, but it sure ain’t ham none bit neither.

Bim: *shrugs* Not my fault you don’t know our founding fathers.

*Magnum retrieves a heaping of mashed potatoes and gravy from within his beard*

Capt Magnum: Mayhaps me mums recipe will do the trick in ye stead.

*King sticks a finger in the gravy boat, then his mouth*

King: ...that’s not gravy. That’s just rum. None of us can drink that!

Yancy: Youse clearly haven’t tried Shithole Hank’s hooch wine. I drink that every day!

*Dr. Iplier reads over a clip board*

Dr. Iplier: Thanks to that, looks to me like you’re dying.

*Illinois clinks glasses full of “gravy” with Yancy*

Illinois: Ah, but to die would be an awfully big adventure!

*Annus joins in with his homemade “wine”*

Annus: I can toast to that!

Dark: *pointing* Coffin. NOW.

*Annus sulks away again*

Y/N: So... is that all we have to eat?

Wilford: Nonsense, Y/N! You must try my super duper famousssss candied yams!

*a pan appears suddenly full of “candied” yams*

Google: *scanning the dish* This, too, is incorrect. According to every cooking website on the internet ever archived, actual candy is not present in the making of candied yams.

Wilford: *hands on hips* Well that shows what you know about real cuisine. Now you’re not allowed to have any!

*Bing rides past on skateboard*

Bing: Us ‘droids can’t even eat anyway. Still looks sick AF dude!

*Bing rides away, totally doesn’t trip, you didn’t see anything*

Eric: M-maybe we should just-t order takeout?

Reporter Jim: Shaky Jim is right! This just in, viewers, the demons have stolen all our thanks and our giving! So we must get pizza!

Cameraman Jim: Oh yes, yes! And if the demons steal that then we can get tacos, or egg rolls! Egg rolls are Mother Jim’s favorite!

*Yandere cozies up to Y/N*

Yandere: How about we let Senpai decide. After all, they are our most special guest of all!

Y/N: Uh.....

*knock sounds at the door*

Silver: I’ll get it! ....It’s all I’m really good for anyway considering I can never get any word in edgewise with you guys....

*Silver opens door*

Actor Mark: Oh, hey guys! I just noticed the door was locked and, surprise surprise, I was on the wrong side when I should be in here with you all! I mean, after all, this is my hou--

*door magically closes and locks again*

Dark: Now that that’s settled, if it’s dinner you all want, I of course, can provide.

*Dark snaps his fingers, a thanksgiving meal fit for royalty materializes*

Y/N: ...this is how it goes every holiday, isn’t it?

Host: Pretty much, yeah.

304 notes · View notes

thebadchoicemachine · 3 years

Text

Petting Party (pt 1)

Rundown of dimensions AU: Quackity’s from 1920s dimension called Prowa, Schlatt and Charlie are his business partners *cough found family cough* and they run a casino/speakeasy. Sapnap is a knight from a fantasy dimension called Quarry. Karl is like Dr.Who.

tw - Mentions of guns and alcohol (1920s mobster dimension)

This is really just the fluffiest full I have ever written.

•••

@thecatchat

•••

Quackity walked through his rooms, digging around drawers for his keys. He squawked a little in frustration as he rummaged. He felt so paranoid, like he was already short on time even though he was about half an hour early and it’s not like Sapnap or Karl would mind waiting. He just wanted this to go perfectly. They’d had dates in his world before, they’d even had proper ones where they weren’t running from cops or mobsters or some other guns/knife/bat-wielding foes. Heh, foes. He was starting to think like Sapnap… and he was starting to feel like Karl— where was his damn key? Karl had literal worlds full of stuff to keep track of, it only made sense he got turned around and mixed up, what was Quackity’s excuse?

Finally, a glint caught his eye and he snatched up the silver piece of metal, stuffing it into his sleeve and practically skipping to the front. Their home was really just the back half of the casino so he just walked through into the back room. Schlatt and Charlie were sitting at a table, various game pieces scattered across the top, counting cards, chips, and cash. Charlie seemed to be in the middle of a failed game of solitaire and was stacking up a house of cards while Schlatt was just old-fashioned sorting, looking rather bored. It was a quiet night for them. Probably a few drinks and catching up till bed after they double-check the games for cheating. Quackity would usually join them but it wasn’t strange for him not to show. He gave them a wave as he walked past, motion enough for them to look up and acknowledge him.

Schlatt only glanced up before returning to his work. “What’s with the getup?”

“I told youse, I’m going out tonight.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m going out to meet my partners.” Quackity struck a joking pose. “No harm in good impressions.”

“Hey,” Charlie frowned childishly, “aren’t we your partners?”

Quackity chuckled, rolling his eyes, “Of course. My new partners, then. Actually, lemme see a cut of that doe, I wanna butter ‘em up tonight.” He snatched a few bills from the table and turned to make his exit.

“Wait,” Schlatt commanded, still barely looking up from his work. “Partners like you’re out for coffee to discuss getting new tables?” He took a sharp bite of his apple, eyes lazily growing dark. “Or do youse mean partners like I outta trail behind... y’know, keep you from gettin’ lead poisoning.”

“Uh...” Quackity blinked. “Partners like I’m off to a petting party.”

Schlatt choked. Charlie laughed while he coughed, moving to pat his back and smiled at Quackity. “Well, good luck.”

Quackity narrowed his eyes as he was almost certain he caught a ‘all knows you need it’ under Charlie’s breath. He played it cool and simply snapped, “Hey, I don’t need no luck. Certainly not from you.”

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to offend.” Charlie held his hands up, grin still plastering his face. “Was just wishing you the best.”

“Yeah... yeah,” Schlatt nodded, coming out of his state but still red-faced. Whether it was from embarrassment or lack of air Quackity couldn’t tell. He rolled his eyes again, smiling but waving goodbye without giving them a chance to drag him onto another conversation.

He stepped into the front, waiting patiently by the front of the door. Karl had said they’d meet him at the Vidrio, but should he wait inside or out? He paced, routinely adjusting his feathered headband and combing the actual feathers on his wings. He still worried he was overdressing a little but when he tried to lessen his look he panicked about underdressing. He wanted to look good for his boyfriends, a bit of makeup wouldn’t hurt that... would it? In the end, he’d settled on a simple pale blue dress, eyeliner, and a small headband. Nothing too gaudy but he still looked good. He looked good in everything, of course, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. So why was he all jittery? What, was he suddenly a dud? It didn’t matter. It was probably just because of the surprise factor.

He’d assumed they would come and get outfits at his place (no offense to them, they just really couldn’t go the way they usually dressed) but Karl had insisted they pick him up like a “proper date.” He didn’t know what Karl knew about proper dates or when he’d started to care about them, most of their dates involved some form of running for their lives. Quackity wasn’t complaining but he’d be lying if he said the idea of just being a snuggle pup for a change wasn’t wildly appealing, especially if it meant getting to have Sapnap and Karl got to hang out in his world and not just flee and sneak. There were some nice things here he felt he never got to show them.

He sunk into himself, suddenly feeling ashamed. It was bad manners, it was. Combining his work and love life to the point he may as well have made chumps out of his own boyfriends. He knew they didn’t mind, it was all new and fun for them and he was pretty sure Sapnap did the same thing. (He wasn’t entirely sure what his job was, like a knight sure but where was the line between work and just regular old Quarrian life?) Still. He should take them dancing more or something. Technically, that’s what he was doing here but he’d like to make a better habit of it, it really sounded like the bees-

A bright, impossible, but familiar, swirl interrupted his thoughts. He straightened himself, quickly fixing his headband one last time. His heart was pounding out of his chest— but not because he was nervous, because he was excited. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a giddy sap as out from the portal stepped Karl and Sapnap. His breath was caught in his throat as he got a good look at them. He wasn’t sure what he expected, nothing bad, but he mentally made a note to give them an apology for being SO wrong. Whatever he’d imagined, they looked a million times better.

Sapnap was in a white dress shirt. He had on a maroon vest and black tie he clearly didn’t know how to wear but wore well nonetheless. He had his hair slicked back, completely showing his pretty silvery, misty, eyes. Quackity noted the headband he usually wore in his hair was tied in a ribbon around his neck. Sapnap just couldn’t be without it, he warmly mused.

Karl had on something with colors in patterns like Quackity had never seen before, not in his world at least, which— of course, it was Karl. Beautiful, strange, mysterious, adorable Karl. The top of the pantsuit was made of several pale shades of green. They washed over it like waves of seafoam, a strip of pale purple lace swirled around it, almost mimicking a deconstructed form of his usual crazy attire. A herringbone cap was pulled over his head, shaping brown curls.

Quackity stared, absolutely gobsmacked, until his brain caught up to his eyes. Sapnap was saying something and waving his hand a little. Quackity blinked, shaking himself out of it. Egad, he was goofy for them. Luckily, Karl and Sapnap didn’t seem to mind his zoning out. In fact, Karl seemed to find it tickling, he clearly held in a giggle as Quackity snapped to. Quackity guessed this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself stunned. It certainly wouldn’t be the last either.

“Hey, jackpot,” Sapnap gently flicked his forehead. “I asked how you think we look.”

“You... good. You look good. Mmhmm,” he managed to squeak out, finally remembering to close his mouth. Slick. He was slick.

“I’m glad you like it,” Karl chuckled. “I know you don’t really trust me to dress myself for nice places in Prowa.”

“Hey, I never said I didn’t trust you!”

“You never said it, no.”

Quackity gave Karl a small punch in the shoulder. He flinched way more than was warranted, stumbling dramatically, but a broad smile settled on both their faces.

“Aw, sugar! Did I hurt you?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey! Sir,” Sapnap stepped between them, also joking. “What is wrong with you, daring to assault my beloved in front of me?” He threateningly toward over Quackity, grabbing his shoulders and backing him up against the wall. His eyes flickered with playful malice. He leaned in close, expression caught between a smirk and a snarl, completely aware of the growing blush on Quackity’s face. “I’ve half a mind to challenge you, and another half to crush you right here for your audacity.”

“Aw, my knight in shining armor,” Karl sarcastically patted Sapnap’s shoulder, thoroughly less impressed by the display than Quackity. “Whatever would I do without you here to defend me from this sweet, cuddly, small, duckling?”

“Hey!” Quackity snapped defensively. “I could fuck you up if I-“

“Ey, Q! Have you seen-“ Schlatt stopped upon seeing the scene, turning on his heel and walking right back into the back. “Nevermind. Not my business. None of my business. Absolutely not my business…”

“I-“ Sapnap dropped his boyfriend (who crumpled onto the floor in laughter), instantly turning a shade twelve times redder than Quackity had been. “I am so sorry.”

“Ah- Schlatt?” Karl called over Quackity’s wheezing. “Schlatt, it’s fine-“

“NONE OF MY BUSINESS!” A shout came from the backroom.

Quackity dropped his face into his hands, his chortling turned to full hysterics as he sat curled up against the wall. His dress, which he had been so unreasonable nervous about moments before, creased and probably picked up some grime from the floor. He didn’t care at all. Now that his boyfriends were actually beside him he could care less if he was painted green and orange. He had no one to impress, at least no one who would let anything bad happen over a stupid look. “Oh,” he snickered, the burst dying down. “Oh wow.” He wiped his eyes as jubilant tears stung, apathetic as he’d become he hoped his makeup didn’t run. It wasn’t necessary but he’d still like to look nice for the occasion. He pulled himself to his feet, brushing off his outfit and sighing. “Ah. He’s got a point though, really should be saving that for the party.”

“Speaking of which—“ Karl snapped his fingers in a jazzy rhythm. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yes, let’s!” Sapnap turned with Karl as all three of them began to speed out the door.

Quackity made sure to bump in front of them before they made it out, he was not letting Karl anywhere near the wheel.

The car ride was bright and lively although quiet. Quackity couldn’t help but grin just being next to these goons, one could practically feel Karl vibrating with excitement in the back, even Sapnap seemed to be enjoying the drive (he’d never quite gotten over the time Karl had offered to drive... Quackity could barely blame him for remaining he cautious and paranoid around automobiles). The blanched twilight hummed overhead as they made their way through the streets. It was relatively empty this time of night, too late for errands but just before everything started to swing. They pulled into the end of the road and all stepped out.

“It’s a bit of a walk the rest of the way,” Quackity explained. “Especially cause ‘s considered… ‘impolite’ to pull attention.”

“Hmm…” Sapnap nodded, glancing behind them.

“What’s up?” Karl put a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“It’s fine, I just-“

“Just what?”

“Uh, maybewecouldgoseeSchlattandCharlie?”

“Huh?” Karl blinked.

“Is… Schlatt and Charlie coming? Could we go get them?”

“N-no?” Quackity stammered, surprised to say the least. “This— uh- ain’t exactly the kind of party you bring your family to. Not ‘less they got dates of their own... and you know Charlie ain’t keen on that stuff.”

“Okay, well, maybe we could spend some time with them for a while at the casino? Before we commit here. The night is young!”

“I means, I’m pumped for your sudden urge to hang out with them and all, but I kind of wanted to spend time with the two of you.”

“Ah-“ Sapnap shrunk into himself. “Of course, I- me as well, I’m so sorry to imply otherwise. I was just thinking Charlie may like to hear about the slimes...” He trailed off, fiddling with the headband around his neck, just the slightest hint of panic on his face. He was very good at hiding it but Quackity and Karl knew him better than that. They shared a glance, this had nothing to do with Charlie.

“Spice, are youse nervous?”

“N-no!”

“You sure? We don’t gots to do nothing you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, it’s just-“

“Chivalry and all that?” Karl chimed in, sympathetic. “I know our courting isn’t exactly conventional.”

“No. Well, not exactly. Ah... think I’m merely... flustered?”

“Flustered?” They spoke at once.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… romance in my world is so different. Much more complicated. It involves a lot of the other’s family and specific sets or roles for meetings, it changes depending on how long you’ve been together and what kingdoms you hail from, so such and so forth. I’ve never been a martinet for the rules but, the way you describe these kinds of parties, I- I- find myself… lost.”

Karl blinked. “So, you’re used to having a bunch of guidelines and, while you don’t miss them, are floundering without the stencil?” Sapnap nodded at the ground. He took a breath and shook his head, clearing his mind before bowing slightly. He held his left arm over his chest, middle knuckle up with his pinky and thumb slightly out, keeping the rest of his hand balled in a fist. Quackity recognized the symbol by now as something like a salute of the Nether kingdom. It was used to show respect while speaking. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, remembering the formality was only habit.

“I apologize for my trepidation,” Sapnap held a bashful tone. “I am just not used to courti-“ he paused, searching for the word, “dates being so… open. I don’t mean that as an insult to your world! I only-.”

“Okay, buddy,” Quackity pushed Sapnap upright by his shoulders. He seemed confused but obliged. “I get it’s polite and nice for you but, if you really love me, please never do this again.”

“Do... what?”

“You have a habit of getting all formal when you’re worried you’re messing up with us.” Karl shrugged.

“I do?”

“I don’t know.” Quackity tapped his chin. “Let’s see.” Without warning, he grabbed Sapnap by the shoulders and takes him downward, planting a firm kiss right on his lips. He tensed a little as he felt a sudden wave of hotness wash over him (that was to be expected from surprising a demon) but stayed in the moment. As he pulled away, Sapnap blinked a few times, stunned although the faintest hint of a smile shone through. His gelled hair fell just a little messy.

“What the fuck, Quackity?”

“There we go! Back to normal! You see the difference?”

“I- I guess so!” He nodded, a look of mild surprise mixing his comprehension as if he’d just realized what color his own eyes were.

“Now, did youse like that?”

“Yes?”

“You want more?”

“Yes...”

“You wanna go inside?”

“Yeah.” Sapnap energetically nodded, slamming the car door shut, slicking back his hair again, and holding out his arms. “Yes, I do.”

Karl jumped between them, linking arms on his side before Quackity had the chance, and holding out his own instead. Quackity shot him a look but took it, joined by Sapnap in confusion at the sudden demand to be in the middle. Karl only smiled as they made their way down the street, nearly skipping at the attention until he lowly murmured, “So… do I get a kiss?” Quackity opened his mouth, smiling, but was cut off by Sapnap swiftly swooping in and planting one on Karl’s cheek.

“Oh- you-!” Quackity squawked, envy and agitation peaking his tone. “I was gonna-!”

“Well, I did.”

“Boys, boys, I do have two hands… and two cheeks,” Karl half-sang, leaning over to Quackity awaiting his kiss.

“Oh, no. Fuck you. You’re gonna have to wait for it now,” Quackity pouted. Sapnap let out a taunting laugh as Karl gasped in mock offense. Well, probably mock. Regardless, Quackity only smirked and turned to face a door in the wall next to them. “Besides, we’re here!” He unlinked his arm, rattling out a little pattern into the door. It opened slowly, revealing a dapperly dressed serpentine blocking the view inside. He smiled wildly as the warm smells and colors hit him regardless, it had been a while since he’d been to one of these, long before he ever met them and certainly not while they were dating, but he missed them.

He couldn’t wait to share this.

#karlnapity dimensions #ksq dimensions content #karlnapity fluff #woah those are words I wrote

49 notes · View notes

perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

Text

@sicktember Prompt # 11: Bed Rest

Title: Stubborn Cold

Fandom: Letterkenny

Based on this post by me. Inspired by @sick-bae

Wayne goes about his day with a sneezy, feverish cold. His loved ones try to convince him to take a day off.

(Author's note: My first attempt at Letterkenny sickfic, written in the style of a script. Writing this fandom in prose just… didn't work for me, because the show is sooooo dialogue-based, while the scenes are pretty static. Feedback on my take of this kooky fandom is welcome!)

For those that haven’t watched the show: Puppers is a beer, darts are cigarettes. These are a bunch of Canadian hick farmers (yes, they actually call themselves the Hicks) from a town called Letterkenny who happen to be best friends. Wayne is well-known as the toughest man in Letterkenny.

(WAYNE is sitting up in bed wearing plaid, flannel pajamas, facing the camera. His nose is red and raw while the rest of his face is overly pale. He looks tired and sick.)

WAYNE: Had some chorin' to do the other daaaaaay.

(Scene change to outside at the produce stand. KATY, DAN, and DARRYL are drinking beers and relaxing, dressed for autumn. WAYNE walks up to join them, looking tired and pale as he sits down with a groan.)

DARRYL: 'bout time you got here. We thought you got lost.

(WAYNE sneezes twice, wetly. Everyone blesses him.)

DAN: Were yous in the dusts over theres, Wayne?

WAYNE: I suppose I might've been (He sniffles.)

DARRYL: The rest of us have been sittin' here for a while, where've you been?

WAYNE: Had some things to take care of in the field.

DARRYL: You look about done-in. Get this man a puppers.

WAYNE: (Frown deepens.) Nah, no puppers for me.

DARRYL: What do you mean no puppers? When a man sits down to take a breather, he has a puppers. It's the way things are meant to be.

WAYNE: Well Darry, it just so happens I have a splittin' headache even though I haven't had a drop to drink since yesterday, so it just so happens I don't want a puppers right now.

DARRYL: Well if you have a headache so bad that you don't want a puppers, it seems to me you should probably go inside and have a lie-down.

WAYNE: Well you know, I'd love to go have a lie-down, 'cept for the fact that there's a boatload of chorin' to do and no one but me to do it.

DARRYL: Well I'm just sayin', you should either sit and have a puppers with us or you should go have a lie-down.

WAYNE: And I'm just sayin' you should mind your own business, Darry.

(WAYNE stands.)

WAYNE: Best get back to it. Every damn thing on this farm decided to break down today, so I've got double the work to do.

(He exits. He sneezes twice off camera. Everyone blesses him again, then exchange worried looks.)

(Scene changes to WAYNE and DAN working on a piece of farm equipment in a field. WAYNE is kneeling down with his back to the camera. DAN is under the machine on the other side. Suddenly, WAYNE pulls out a handkerchief and sneezes twice. DAN slides out to look at him.)

DAN: Bless yous, Wayne. The dusts and pollens are bads this times of year.

WAYNE: I s'pose. (He sniffles and wipes his nose, then continues working)

DAN: How's abouts we grabs a break and smokes a dart?

WAYNE: Too busy fer smokin' darts. This machine needed to be up and running this morning. (He coughs into his elbow.)

DAN: Nows just a minutes. We've been working on this for an hour and youse haven't smoked once. That's not naturals.

(WAYNE is about to respond, but instead has a harsh coughing fit.)

DAN: Nows that sounded painful. Are youse all rights?

WAYNE: 10-4, super chief.

DAN: I'm not sures I believes you. You don't wants to smokes and you're coughing up a lungs. Seems to me you should go insides and have a lie-down. You're getting sicks, and you wants to stops it before it gets worse.

WAYNE: (Frown deepens.) Well I'd love to go have a lie-down Squirrely Dan, 'cept for the fact that there's a boatload of chorin' to do and no one but me to do it.

(DAN shakes his head, looking disapproving. WAYNE stands and wipes his hands on a rag, sniffling.)

WAYNE: That should do 'er. Think we're done over here.

DAN: I guesses I'll go finds Darry and smokes a darts with him then, since youse won't rest.

WAYNE: Good 'nough then.

DAN: I thinks you're makings a big mistake.

WAYNE: Guess that's my business and not yours.

(As WAYNE walks off camera, he sneezes twice, sounding more congested all the time. DAN blesses him again, looking concerned.)

(Scene changes to the barn where WAYNE is working. KATY approaches. WAYNE sneezes as she does. He looks worse than ever, with a raw, red nose and dark circles under his eyes. He's shivering.)

KATY: Bless. How are ya now?

WAYNE: (Very hoarse and congested.) Not so bad, and you?

KATY: Not so bad. But what's the deal, big brother? You look worse than that dead rabbit Stormy dragged in from the woods.

WAYNE: (Frown deepens.) Nothin' to worry about. Little bit of a sniffle from a stubborn cold.

KATY: You’re not fooling anyone with that lie. Everyone knows you're sick as a dog. You shouldn't be working like this.

WAYNE: A sniffle's no reason to stop chorin'

(KATY moves to his side, placing a hand on his forehead.)

KATY: That fever you have is, though.

(WAYNE considers for a moment, but shrugs, then continues working, coughing as he does.)

KATY: (Sighing.) You got the stubborn part right for sure. Go have a lie-down, before you catch your death. You're shivering.

WAYNE: You know I'd love to go have a lie-down, 'cept for the fact that there's a boatload of chorin' to do and no one but me to do it.

KATY: The chorin' will get done one way or another. You need to rest. You're sick.

WAYNE: Well the fact is, I don't have time to be sick, and a man shouldn't lay around doing nothing no matter how he's feeling. I'll be fine. Leave me be, Katy.

(KATY walks off, rolling her eyes.)

(Scene changes to evening. WAYNE is still working in the barn. He is shivering and sniffling and completely miserable. He sneezes several times, then rubs his eyes. We hear someone approach him from behind. A hand reaches out to feel WAYNE's forehead, then his cheek.)

WAYNE: I'm fine Katy. Go on. I'll be in after a while. (He coughs harshly.)

ROSIE: Nope, you're coming in right now.

(WAYNE spins around quickly, surprised. KATY and ROSIE are standing behind him.)

KATY: Since you wouldn't listen to me or Dan or Darry, I had to bring in the big guns.

(ROSIE gives WAYNE a sympathetic look, then wraps him in a tight hug. He hesitates for a moment, then hugs her back, burying his face in her hair.)

ROSIE: Let's get you inside. You're burning up. I already called McMurray and Joint Boy. They'll do your chorin' tomorrow with Dan and Darry. You're on bed rest for at least a day, mister.

(WAYNE groans, leaning more of his weight against her for a moment. ROSIE begins to lead him to the house. KATY follows.)

KATY: Leave it to the girlfriend to talk some sense into his thick head. Make sure you make him soup, Rosie. He'll say he doesn't want any but he's lying.

(Scene change back to sick WAYNE sitting up in bed from the beginning.)

WAYNE: Being sick is about as inconvenient as a snow day in June and just as miserable too.

(ROSIE walks in carrying a steaming bowl and mug on a tray, which she sets beside him with a smile. WAYNE watches her, then looks back at the camera.)

WAYNE: But every now and again, laying around doing nothing is just about alright.

~END~

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 11

22 notes · View notes

speedypandaweasel · 3 years

Text

Change of Plans - A Yancy x Neutral! Reader

❤ REBLOGS WOULD BE APPRECIATED ❤

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 MASTERLIST

Where we left off:

So much for a lie in. You slowly rose from the cocoon of warmth you had made for yourself and you felt your toes wriggle up the bed and hiss at the exposed coldness of the room. Dragging yourself out of subconsciousness, your eyes finally decided to greet the grey interior and the black-barred window that perched just out of your arms reach. Why would they put such a tiny window if they didn’t want anyone to look out of it? Pretty pathetic actually. The Penitentiary really needed to repaint the bars, some of the black paint had flaked onto your pillow whilst you were sleeping.

You sat up, a little too quickly, and a cold, hard sensation hit the top of your body. Well good morning to you too World.

The unbearable ringing continued as you brought your arm down onto the squawking alarm clock. The room fell into a comfortable silence once more. 7:30am, not too bad, yet it could have been a little longer. Yet it was as if someone decided to balance a massive book on “how to not have a headache” on your already sore head. You’d ask Boggs for some paracetamol, or maybe some Ibuprofen as you tried to ponder on what did you do to deserve this...

~ Chapter 5 ~

MatchBox Analysis - 2.3K Words

"I'm here to speak to Officer Boggs." You timidly spoke, playing with the hem of your shirt. The man that towered in the small door frame in front of you was the most intimidating of all: Officer Rexx.

There were rumours about him that were too obscure and dangerous to mention twice, You only happen to hear about them when you overheard a couple of prisoners talking about "the anniversary" of how he lost his previous job, whatever that meant. To be frank, you didn't want to know about whatever hell hole he wriggled out of and treaded on eggshells around him, even if you weren't speaking to him. Something about that man caused you to feel insecure about something that you couldn't point your finger at, but there was no doubt that it was there.

"Yeah, he's in here." He paused for a moment. "You're one of the newer ones around here, aren't you? I've seen you around but never had the pleasure to meet."

He stuck out his grubby hand, his sausage fingers extended shortly at you, waiting for you to touch them. You grimaced before wiping that expression off your face. Rule 1: Never acknowledge the fingers.

You stuck out your hand bravely and shook his greasy one. His strong grip tightened around your knuckles as he shook hard, almost breaking your frail fingers.

"Well, I'll just go get him. Stay there." He spat. The door firmly closed behind him, the staff room's view blocked once again. You peeped through the mesh windows and managed to decipher the blurred silhouette of the sofa and coffee counter. You backed away as the door swung open again to the familiar face of Officer Boggs, his much shorter height made you relax second by the second.

"Oh hi Y/N, shouldn't you be outside?" He asked before shutting the door behind him, leaving the both of you outside in the wide hallway.

"Well I am, but I forgot to give you this from last night." You replied, planting your hand into your pocket before pulling out the owners key. Boggs let out a chuckle as his rosy cheeks grew even merrier.

"I forgot I gave you this! I'm glad that at least someone doesn't take my naivety for granted" He continued. "I respect that about you."

He unhooked the jingling keys from his beltline and clipped the Cafertiera key on the chain. He had a proud collection of keys to his name - being a veteran member of the Prison, it did have its perks.

"Well thank you, I really appreciate that Boggs. You know, sometimes I don't feel like I fit in here myself." Sounded cliche, you internally facepalmed yourself. Normally you wouldn't be telling this to anyone, but Boggs had been there since forever so it was nice to tell at least someone your true thoughts about staying here.

"Oh now don't think like that, every prisoner when they first come in her feels like that, but don't worry, I'm sure that the others will welcome you soon. Have you tried talking to them? I know you're not the socially inclined person but give it a shot. Who knows? You might actually enjoy their company" He concluded.

When Boggs gave advice, it could go two ways: either it was incredibly awful which ended in bad decisions being drawn from it, or it could be genuinely heartwarming and sincere words of wisdom. Thankfully, this was one of those pieces.

You allowed yourself to run over the speech the superior had just given and smiled. You could spark up a conversation with Yancy, you could ask him about what that poem meant! Maybe that could be the starting point of breaking out of your introverted shell.

"Thanks Boggs, I really do appreciate you." You said, before heading off outside.

"Have fun! But not too much fun, I don't want for you to get hurt!" His yells sounded down the empty corridor.

The mid-day sun blazed down on the steaming concrete, the prisoners having that work-out glow. Yancy had rolled his short sleeves even shorter, exposing his lesser-known tattoos, and his private box was stuffed in his trouser leg conveniently, away from the guard's view. If anyone found out what was in this box..well, it would ruin him.

Racing became tiresome after a couple of hours so the prisoners resorted to lazily running laps around the small quarter, this included the songbird himself.

"I tell's ya T, you wanna stop off for a few minutes? this box is gettin' uncomfortable." He protested, shifting his weight from one foot to another, finding a comfortable spot in his trouser leg.

"Why, you chickening out? Scared that someone will beat your record?" T retorted.

The prisoners slowed to a stop. Yancy regrettably paused his track game and attempted to get his ragged breath back.

"No ya dingus, it's 'cause dis box is scratchin' my skin off! I swear I's bleedin' down my shin by now."

Tiny's retort turned into concern as they pulled over to the side of the quarter. Once out of sight, Yancy slowly rolled his trouser leg up to his shin and took out the small, worn-out box from the bottom of his leg.

"Your leg hasn't been sawed off Yance, but you sure you need to keep it there? You could hurt yourself."

Yancy chortled shortly, not willing to admit that his friend was right. After what happened last time, he was going to learn from his mistakes. He rubbed his fading ankle bruise as he remembered the time he stayed in the medical ward. But the question was: where was he going put the little thing?

His eyes scanned the usual nooks and crannies that he had hid stuff in before, but word somehow got out and now everyone was using them for their secret stashes. Great - so much for having the upper hand.

His eyes continued to look for somewhere to stuff the thing until his ears pricked up on the outside door swinging open. His frustrated face broke into a smile as he saw you walk out timidly, and perching on a weight bench.

"Here, can youse hang on to it for a hot minute, just don't open it alight," He said, his curious eyes never leaving your sight.

Tiny was startled. The Boss never let them hold anything of his, let alone the one thing he persistently never left out of his sight. Tiny slipped the matchbox into their shoe before taking a squat down the brick wall as they watched their mate stride over to the newbie, but chose not to follow suit.

You picked at the seat cushion like it was the most interesting thing ever to you, whilst plucking up the courage to go and talk to the most confident person out here. Your eyes managed to look up. partially blinded from the sun but saw the small huddles of prisoners near the water pitches, walking around, or down by the blind spot. Guards stood at every entrance broadly, letting people in and out of the area, their moist uniforms made you wonder how the hell they managed to keep composure in this heat.

Your moment abruptly came as you saw the man of the hour coming towards you, his wide shoulders fully exposed to the heats rays. You knew he worked but w-w-wow.

"Finally decided to join in the fun eh?" He sprung up the conversation.

Chuckling, you look down, embarrassed and in amusement "And I'm guessing that this is the newest trouser look. Is this asymmetric chic? or is this just you trying to use illusion to become taller?" You threw a double whammy at him.

Yancy's shocked eyes bored into your own mischievous ones for a brisk moment. Suddenly, he exaggeratedly placed a hand on his chest before crumbling to the grass floor. "Oh de pain! I can't bear it anymore! Not another short joke!"

Other people around the quarter edge were starting to laugh along with his flailing and happily applauded when he finished his piece. The cheering and jeering died down as the conversation drifted back to normal, as Yancy dragged his trouser leg down and sidled up next to you and he bumped his hard shoulder next to yours.

"What a Drama Queen." You continued, letting out a small smile.

"What can I's say, I got's to get ma training in somewhere." He replied "So how's it been with you? Finish dat book yet?"

It was as if he read your mind! The topic of the poetry book caught your attention as you chipped away at your social shell. "Uh, not yet, but I did want to ask you a couple of questions about poem 19. You know, the one you recommended I read?"

The prisoner stretched his arms and placed them behind himself. "Oh yeah! It's one of ma favourites! I personally thinks its about de good and bad sides to love and once you've actually caught feelings for someone, it pains you to do things dat even surprise yaself. Youse got me?"

You would have never known that Yancy had a passion for literature, just listening to him made you even more dedicated to spending time with him. Boggs was right with his advice, it didn't bruise your ego that bad to socialise with new people, as it made you question what other things the man had up it sleeve - or trouser leg.

You rephrased yourself, "Ok then Yance, do you read poems often then?" your feet started to dance around the grassy floor, flattening pieces of green.

"So do you analyse poems often then Yancy?"

The man interrupted you "Oh please, call me Yance, only the big dog calls me Yancy."

"I used to when I was a youngin', my family hads a nice library ya see. Dey's had Shakespeare, Jane Austen, and some oder authors I can't remember but when youse a fabulous actor like myself, you gotta keep up ya noggin' in check." He smiled and looked out onto the busy area, almost reminiscing about his past life.

He never liked to bring up the subject of his past but when Yacny was with you, it felt- right. To finally talk about childhood memories and just laugh about them, instead of it always being dragged back to the soul reason why he was locked up at Happy Trails in the first place.

His strong arm planted on the side of your small shoulder as he gave you a tight squeeze. "How about youse? Do you read?"

"I-Uh... I"

Words formed in your mouth, yet your tongue was on holiday, not responding to any sentence your brain was throwing at you. Butterflies were born in your stomach as your face started to feel warm, too warm for your liking. What was happening? Were you having sunstroke!?

"Youse ok? Ya looking a little warm d'ere" Yancy said, dropping his arm from your side. "Youse want me to go grab you some water?"

This signalled your tongue to finally come back to work. "Oh. No, I'm fine thanks and yeah, I read, that's what I was going to ask about you actually." You said, forcing confidence.

"No way! Heh, I guess great minds think alike huh?" He replied, grinning his addicting smile. He looked over to where he left Tiny and an idea sprung in his scheming mind. "Hey, youse wanna come over to the wall, I got's a friend who you could meet. I mean, only if you wanna?" Yancy laughed, trying to sweetly coax you deeper into socialisation.

You hesitated. This man sure was alluring, but risking another episode like that caused you to reconsider. You bit your bottom lip, slightly, your eyebrows became sewn together as you weighted up your options. Either go over and run your social battery out completely, or decline and recover from this moment.

"Thanks Yance, but I think I'm done for the day." You responded. "All this talking and warm heat" and maybe some other things "has made my head spin a little."

"Ok, well if youse's sure." Yancy stood up once more and punched your shoulder "See you around Keys!"

You saw him walk back to his mate and sit down together under the shade of the building. You blissfully made your way back inside of Happy Trails, back with you and your own thoughts.

Its blasting air conditioner made your arms tingle as you pulled out a chair in the Cafeteria and went to reach for the poetry book. The silence hung much thicker in the air as you sat uncomfortably. Is this what withdrawal felt like? To be isolated not a minute after being surrounded by people. You kind of missed the feeling of having someone to talk to, but everyone had their boundaries - even you. You tried not to linger on the thought of feeling like you let Yancy down. He gave you the opportunity to help you overcome your fears but you didn't take it. Maybe next time you would take it, but for now, you did something new today: You should be proud of yourself.

You scanned around at the empty chairs and tables, the occasional guard whistling by the Cafeteria's door frame before you brought your head to the window. Your eyes soon spotted Yancy sashaying around with his friend. They must have said something funny because he soon showed his pearly whites, his chest rising and falling as his strong hand clutched his chest. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away from this scene. The jailbird was the only person who actually tried with you. Smiling to yourself, you looked back up and your breath hitched. He was looking directly back at you and giving you a small wave. His smaller companion followed suit, shooting their hand straight up, frantically joining in. You sheepishly waved back before opening the book from you left off.

"Missed me Y/N?"

#yancy x reader #yancy #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #markiplier #markiplier egos #ahwm yancy #x reader #yancy the prisoner

23 notes · View notes

nevernotwriting · 3 years

Text

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 14: Black Tie Required

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

The next morning, you woke up early to the sound of effortful noises coming from your living room. You peeked your head around the corner, pleasantly surprised by what you saw.

Yancy was doing push-ups, his face concentrated on the rug below him with a single loose strand of hair dangling in front of his forehead. For the first time since last night, you were hit with the realisation that this was actually real. He was free, and he was here with you.

Yancy must have been thinking along the same lines; he startled when he looked up and saw you leaning against the doorway. He got to his feet and let out a small laugh.

“Sorry, force o’ habit in the mornings.”

“No need to apologise, I was enjoying the show.”

You could hardly believe the words that just came out of your mouth. Where the hell did that come from? You were mentally kicking yourself when Yancy broke out into a grin, glancing at the floor and sweeping his hair back into place with one hand.

“Nice to know I’m appreciated.”

You laughed with him, skipping back to your room to get ready for the day. You knew it was going to be a long and eventful one; hopefully, Yancy would help you get your job back, and be allowed to join the heist team. You grimaced as you imagined Mark’s reaction, but scoffed at yourself as you stepped into your jeans.

He left you in prison, who cares what he thinks?

Your heart tugged, knowing it wasn’t as simple as that, but you pushed past the feeling and grabbed a shirt and a jacket. You made a mental note to take Yancy to the store later so he could get some kit of his own.

A soft beeping noise from the kitchen made your ears perk up.

“Uh… Zero?”

You made your way down the hall. “Yeah?”

As you entered the kitchen, Yancy turned to you with a panicked look on his face.

“I think I broke youses coffee machine.”

“Nah,” you laughed, turning the machine off at the socket. “It does that all the time, don’t worry about it. It’s kinda busted. We can get some coffee at HQ instead, it’s pretty good there. And later we can go and get you some more clothes, if you want?”

Yancy didn’t seem to be listening to you. His gaze clouded over as if he were staring at something a thousand miles away.

“Yancy? You okay?”

He shook himself out of his daydream with a soft frown. “Yeah, I uh… sorry. Just… it’s been a while, since I’ve been…” He gestured to your surroundings. “Anywhere but a prison cell. I gots to admit, it’s startin’ to sink in and… I’m a little nervous.”

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. You’re gonna do great. And if it makes you feel any better, you’re technically still gonna be surrounded by criminals when we get to HQ.”

Yancy laughed. “True enough.”

“Besides, I’ll protect you,” you joked.

Yancy looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow, sending a stir through your body. “Yous is a lot tougher than you look, I’ll give you that.”

“Uh… thanks, I think?”

Yancy chuckled, placing a hand over yours with a gentle squeeze. “Yous gotta learn to take a compliment.”

He moved past you. You stayed frozen in your spot, his words springing a not-so-distant memory to the forefront of your mind, one filled with rooftops and sunrises.

“Awh come on Zero, just take the compliment.”

You grumbled, stomping to the front door and grabbing some shoes. Yancy re-emerged moments later, looking slightly less nervous as he stood tall and puffed out his chest.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go, Z.”

Yancy stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as he realised what he’d said. You merely chuckled, unlocking the front door.

“Not heard thatone before.”

You stood at the entrance to HQ, taking a deep breath in. There was only a set of double doors and a few footsteps separating you from whatever was coming next. Yancy grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“C’mon, yous got this.”

With one last grateful glance in his direction, you opened the door and walked inside.

All eyes were on you and Yancy as you entered the main office, making a nervous lump rise in your throat. Shrike and Gareth looked up from their desks. Jasmine almost dropped her coffee as she twizzled round in her seat, and even Vakarian looked vaguely surprised as he stopped dead in his tracks. From the far end of the room, Mark’s eyes flickered with a sliver of delight at your return, but it disappeared when they landed on Yancy.

Every inch of you filled with anxiety as the very last person you wanted to see rounded the corner; Shark. She stared at everyone in the room, then at you, her eyes briefly flicking to Yancy. She broke the silence with a simple snap of her fingers.

“Mark. Zero. My office. Now.”

Mark got to his feet with a sharp inhale. You glanced at Yancy, your anxiety lessening slightly as he gave you a confident nod. You trailed a short distance behind Shark, taking solace as you left the main office and the watchful eye of your fellow criminals. Mark caught up to you and touched your arm, speaking in a confused whisper.

“What’s hedoing here?” He pointed behind him towards Yancy, who was following behind from a short distance.

You pulled your arm away from him. “Mind your own business.”

Shortly ahead, Shark was stood by her office door with her arms folded. Her eyes were still as cold as ever as you entered. Mark followed you, but Yancy was stopped in his tracks by Shark’s firm words.

“You. Wait here for now.”

She slammed the door shut after her, and you wiped your palms on your thighs. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mark trying to give you a reassuring look, but you fixated on Shark’s desk as she stood on the other side of it. Her expression was unreadable, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“So,” she began at last. “You’re alive. And you made it back from your little prison vacation.”

Her expression changed, and the look on her face made you want to leap across the desk and strangle her right then and there. Something in your body language must have given you away, because Mark turned his head towards you with a look of caution.

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing your anger. “I’m alive and mostly unharmed.”

“From what Mark told me, you had quite the adventure on your first heist.” She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How are you?”

The question caught you off guard; so she did care, at least a bit. You swallowed before answering. “I’m fine.”

“And the artefact?”

Mark cleared his throat. “Like I said, ma’am-”

“Quiet, Mark. I wanna hear Zero’s side of the story.”

Mark’s face turned red and he averted his eyes to the floor. You took in a deep breath.

“It’s gone. Prison Warden confiscated it.”

Shark sighed, cursing under her breath. She turned around, staring at the wall as tension continued to plague the room.

“Well, your stories match, so consider yourselves lucky.”

You dared a glance at Mark. He gave you a small nod, his face saying a thousand words he could not utter in front of your boss.

“But tell me this.” The previous brief flicker of humanity disappeared as she turned round and slammed her hands on the desk. The sound made you jump. “You got yourself shot, landed not only yourself but my best thief in prison, andyou lost the damn thing we’ve been working towards for god knows how fucking long.” More rage filled every word as spit flecked the corners of her mouth.

“Why the hell should I give you another chance?”

Heart hammering, you decided it was time to play your trump card. You crossed the room and stood next to the door.

“Because I brought someone who knows what he’s doing.”

You opened the door. Yancy turned in surprise, and you beckoned him in.

“Ma’am,” you began with a clear of your throat. “This is Yancy. He was an inmate at Happy Trails Penitentiary. He helped me escape that place, and… I think he’ll be a valuable asset to the team.”

Yancy stood in the doorway, arms folded and lips in a tight line. He stepped inside and you shut the door after him, not missing the glare Mark shot in his direction. Shark stood up straight, assessing him. Yancy didn’t falter.

Silence. Eventually, Shark hummed.

“What d’you get locked up for?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” Yancy replied.

Your stomach dropped. Shark let out a small, high-pitched laugh and raised her eyebrows. “You’ve got some nerve. I like it. How long were you locked up for?”

“Ten years.”

“Why leave now?”

Yancy stopped, glancing at you briefly. “I gots somethin’ worth fightin’ for.”

A smile started to emerge on your face, but it stopped when Mark let out a scoff.

“Please,” he muttered. You shot him a death glare.

Shark smirked. “I’m sensing some tension here. Will the two of you working together be a problem?”

Mark and Yancy turned their heads and stared at one another. You turned to Mark with pleading eyes. He looked back at you, his eyes softening as he let out a defeated sigh.

“No, ma’am,” he mumbled.

You turned to Yancy. He straightened his back.

“I guarantee Iwon’t cause no trouble, ma’am,” he responded, one eyebrow raised with a daring side glance. “Yous want somethin’ done, I get it done. No questions asked. And I ain’t afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Shark pursed her lips, eyes darting between the three of you. Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, Yancy interrupted her.

“But with all due respect, I have one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“Let Z off the hook.”

You held your breath, not daring to take your eyes away from Shark. After what felt like an eternity, she rolled her eyes and nodded.

“All right, fine. Consider yourself lucky, Zero. But I’m warning you, all three of you are on probation until you prove yourselves. Have I made myself clear?”

A series of nods and yesses filled the room, and a weight lifted from your shoulders.

He actually pulled it off.

“Good.” Shark picked up a folder from her desk and flicked through it. “I want the three of you working together for a new assignment. We’ve got some open plans still waiting to be set in motion…”

Yancy looked at you and smiled, giving you a wink. You smiled back, heart fluttering. You really owed him for this one.

A knock sounded at the door. Shark looked up from her folder. “Come in.”

The door opened and Shrike entered, a surprising spring in her step. She presented a piece of paper to Shark.

“Boss, you’re not gonna believe this,” she breathed. “Y’know that museum in Yorba Linda you wanted us to look into the other day?”

“The Nixon library?”

Shrike nodded enthusiastically. “They’re having an open artwork exhibit at the end of this week. The whole place is gonna be filled with priceless paintings, and Jazz just worked some of her magic and snagged three tickets.”

Shark nodded, still scanning the paper. “Good work. What’s the catch?”

“It’s just a small one. Black tie required.”

Shark looked up at last, locking eyes with you. You gulped, already knowing what she was going to say.

“Well, looks like we’ve found a job for you three.”

You, Mark, and Yancy glanced between each other.

“We’ll do our best, ma’am,” Mark said.

“You’d better,” Shark replied, straight back to her cold demeanour. She turned to Shrike, who had been carefully observing Yancy with interest.

“Shrike, take these three to the conference room and give ‘em the lowdown. Zero, I want you and Yancy in the gymnasium straight after. Make sure he knows how to use our gear.”

“Right, uh, yes ma’am,” you agreed, snapping out of your anxious thoughts. You couldn’t afford to screw this one up. A black-tie evening could be fun though… right?

As you followed Shrike down the corridor, she turned to Yancy, giving him the same long stare that Shark had given him.

“So you’re Yancy, I take it?” She asked.

“Yep.”

She glanced at Mark, who was trailing just shortly behind you. “Are you related to Mark?”

Yancy blinked. “What? No.”

Shrike shrugged. “You look kinda similar is all.”

Mark groaned. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Bang.Bang.

You stared at the farthest dummy ahead of you, two new bullet holes gracing its chest. Yancy lowered his gun and frowned, sighing through his nostrils. A strange sensation ran through your stomach, a mixture of intimidation and admiration.

“My aim’s not as good as it used to be,” Yancy sighed, glancing at you and clicking the safety on. “Guess I’s a bit rusty.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You call that rusty? And here I thought I was meant to be teaching you,” you laughed.

Yancy grinned, a hint of pink gracing his cheeks. “Well, we’s got time. I’m sure there’s plenty more you can teach me, Z.”

His smile turned into a sultry smirk that rooted you to the spot. It was only when he broke your eye contact to put the gun down that you snapped back into reality and followed him, returning your own gun to its rightful place.

“Come on then, maybe we can try the grappling hook next?” You suggested, that strange sensation still working its way through you as you grabbed two grappling guns and turned to Yancy. The feeling intensified as Yancy approached you, waiting until he was only inches away to gently place his hands over yours and lower the grappling guns down. His eyes bore into yours, and your cheeks were on fire as he briefly looked down at your lips before clearing his throat.

“There’s just… somethin’ I wanna say first.” His eyes flickered down again.

You nodded, your throat too dry to form words.

Yancy looked to the side and frowned briefly. “You and Mark… I know yous said about that date you had planned, back when we were in prison.” His eyes grew cold as he stared into nothingness. Still you waited, patient but eager to hear what he wanted to say so badly that it required standing mere inches from you.

“It’s just… I can tell he’s still sweet on yous,” Yancy continued, looking at you at last. His eyes softened for a brief moment. “But I’s gotta be honest, Z. I don’t want no love triangles.”

You blinked as you processed his words. So that’s what was on his mind. You smiled a little and shook your head, moving one of your hands on top of his.

“If you’re trying to figure out if I’m available, there’s no need. Mark left me in prison, and… that kinda put a damper on things.” You gave a humorous smile, but Yancy still didn’t look convinced as he stared back at you, unmoving.

“There’s not gonna be a love triangle, I promise,” you tried again, squeezing his hand. “We’re all adults. We’ll handle this next heist maturely, I’m sure of it.”

After what felt like an eternity, Yancy nodded and smiled genuinely, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“All right, Z. Thanks.”

“No problem,” you beamed back at him. “Now come on, the sooner we get you trained up, the sooner we can leave before all the stores close. We gotta make sure we fit in at this black-tie evening.” You ghosted your hands away from his, brandishing your grappling gun and striding towards the wall with cheerful steps.

Yancy scoffed behind you. “I dunno if someone like me will ever fit in at a place like that, but it’s worth a shot.”

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #my writing #nevernotwriting

14 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years

Text

Visitation - November 2020

A full year since your first visitation, you find yourself getting ready to meet Yancy in a different place in the prison. One hour. One ‘date’. How would it go?

Word Count: 1,949

Even if visiting Happy Trails Penitentiary once a month was a regular event at this point for you, it didn’t dismiss the butterflies that were fluttering in the pit of your stomach as you arrived with a rucksack. This, in a way, was the first ‘date’ with Yancy since you started your romantic relationship. Finding love as part of a volunteer project was not part of the plan, but now you couldn’t see this any other way. The letters that were sent back and forth were kept together in a folder in your room where they would be safe. A year let you see the little things that happened through Yancy’s writing: how it became easier to write letters that spanned several pages, how Yancy’s handwriting grew a little neater as the months passed, how he continued using the notebook paper and stationery you gave him. You were sure he could see the same in you. Maybe he’d notice the way you spoke more about your life (the good and the bad), or how you put care into your letters, even going as far as adding some doodles in the hope it’d make him smile.

You were in love, and there was no denying that.

The receptionist gave a knowing smile as she explained how conjugal visits went while a guard checked the contents of your bag. How obvious were the nerves, despite the fact it was the same thing as usual? There was a small apartment-like setup in a quiet wing of the prison. It consisted of an open space living room-kitchen combo, a bathroom, and a bedroom that would be locked (it was reserved for families that had to travel long distances for conjugal visits). The rules were rattled off: you and your possessions would be searched to ensure nothing suspicious was inside, cleanliness would be crucial, you would receive a half-hour warning, among other things.

“An’ above all, I don’t wanna hear y’all were up to any funny business.” The Warden’s sudden appearance made you jump. “I know you two’re fine, upstanding youths, but if I catch a peep of trouble, there’ll be a firm warnin’ given. I know that’s not gonna be th’ case!” He slapped your shoulder with an amused chuckle, and it took all your might to bottle up a wince. “I wanna wish ya luck. We’ve been running this here volunteer project for over ten years now, and this is only th’ second time a volunteer and prisoner started datin’. I’m happy for the both of ya. You’ve done more good for Yancy than anyone else. C’mon, I’ll bring ya down.”

As you were led to the conjugal room, Warden Murder-Slaughter began telling you how he noticed Yancy’s improved mood over recent weeks. The greaser had been working on bettering himself and engaging with classes. He had a reason to do these things thanks to you, the Warden surmised. He looked like he was going to say something else, but decided against it. You were suspicious at first, but you quickly realised you were approaching an open door. A voice could be heard from inside giving a warning of some sort, before an aggravated “Youse don’t need to remind me of this for the fifth time!” was snapped in return.

“Sounds like Yancy made it here first,” the Warden laughed as he pushed the door open. “An’ I’m sure he’s gonna be on his best behaviour. It’s a special day, right?” He smirked at Yancy, who was standing beside a coffee table. The prisoner’s response was a grumble and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll leave ya alone. C’mon Smith.” The guard nodded and followed after the Warden, closing the door and leaving you two alone.

Even if Yancy was in his normal prisoner outfit, it looked brighter than before. Was it specially cleaned, or was it a new one just for the occasion? Then again, you had dressed up beyond your normal visitation clothes. Before anything could be said, you put your bag down and charged into his arms for a hug. It was immediately reciprocated as he pulled you close to his chest. It was better than any of the brief hugs you shared in greeting during previous visitation sessions. It was almost like you were home. A strange sentiment to feel, but it was the best comparison you could think of. He smelled like soap, with a faint lingering of smoke; and his embrace was warm.

“It’s good to see youse too.” Yancy eventually broke the silence, reluctantly pulling back just far enough to see your face. “Youse look perfect today. Can’t believe this is actually happening…” A thought that had crossed your mind many times today. It was likely why neither of you wanted to break the hug, but Yancy was the one who made the brave decision to end it so he could lift a small package wrapped haphazardly in toilet paper.

“I, uh, didn’t have no wrapping paper.” You insisted it was fine, and ripped it apart to reveal a grey prison cap. “I’ve been savin’ up money I’ve earned while working the cleaning shifts, and I know it ain’t much but I wanted to show that I do care an’ -” As he rambled, you unfolded the cap and put it on before kissing him on the cheek to cut him off. “O-oh. Looks good on youse. Thought it was better than something like a shirt. Huh? Oh, yeah. We can buy all sorts of little things like this in commissary. But youse gotta save up if youse don’t have a trust fund.” It did explain why he previously resorted to chocolate bars. You made a note to ask about that at reception afterward. For now, you plucked your bag off the ground and offered him a large bottle of soda.

“Fuck yeah, you remembered! Did youse get the chips too?” Your answer was to pull the snack out and playfully shake it. “Hold on, I seen bowls and glasses!”

Snacks and drinks were shared as you two curled up on the couch and chatted. It was definitely a better setting than the visitation room. Without anyone watching you, both of you could relax and be completely at ease. The only distraction was the half-hour warning, and that’s when you noticed Yancy seemed to close up a little. You playfully poked his side and pointed out that another conjugal visit could be arranged once the staff see today went well, but Yancy gave a quick shake of his head. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced aside like he was trying to build confidence. Instead of encouraging him to talk, you took one of his hands in yours and squeezed it softly.

“Sorry. I ain’t trying to ruin the day. I just… Thought this would be easier than it is.” You were quick to assure him that it was okay, and he should take his time. It was appreciated. Yancy forced himself to take a slow breath before looking at you.

“I love youse. I have for months. I know that’s a bit stupid since we’ve been sorta dating most of the year, but I means it. And I wanna do what I can to show I’m serious ‘bout this. This ain’t no little fling, or me being nice to not hurt youse’s feelings. I love you, really. So I, well…” Another slow breath was taken to motivate himself. “I wanna apply for parole. You don’t deserve a boyfriend locked up in prison. I wanna be a better person for youse, the man youse should be with. It ain’t gonna be easy, an’ it’s gonna take a year or so to get things going but… If youse is okay with waiting, then I’ll do everything I can to prove I can try - try and be a good guy.” You felt your heart stumble over itself in surprise. You had been told a year ago how Yancy was a prisoner that would be happy to rot behind bars. Looking at him now, you couldn’t help but smile and promise you’d help in any way you could. “I just need to knows that you’ll be there. I had nothing worth living for out there before I met you and - and while life is pretty great in here, I wanna see your world.”

You hugged him tight. It was all you could do. His arms were around you in a flash as his breathing turned slightly shaky. No matter what, you’d be there every step of the way. He wouldn’t be alone when parole was granted. You’d be there, and you’d introduce him to your own friends and family. He’d have people who wanted to help him by his side.

“Even if I’ve killed people?” You countered whether he had the urge to kill anyone now. “No! ‘Course not! I’m not some creep who loves that kinda thing!” That was enough for you to support him, a fact that had Yancy pause in realisation.

“I ain’t a nice guy. I get angry pretty easily. I don’t know a lotta stuff, an’ I ain’t good at learning things.” Points, you argued, that weren’t important enough to end a relationship. Yancy was human. No one was perfect.

“Youse is gonna get some weird looks, dating a guy like me.” You could hear resignation in his voice at that. He was trying to talk himself out of this, not try and scare you off. Reinforcing the hug was your immediate response. No matter what, you’d be there. No one can truly look down on a man who is trying to do better.

“Y’know youse ain’t gonna be able to move out of the state, yeah? Not without a lotta paperwork.” At last, you broke into a giggle and insisted moving out of state was less important than living somewhere with Yancy there too. That was enough to help the doubts lift as Yancy laughed. “Yeah… I’d like that. You an’ me… It’d be nice, I bet.”

The last minutes were spent close together, talking about what the parole process was (you had to look it up online) and what would need to be done. It was a promising start to have Yancy feeling more confident. As he joked about how he’d challenge the parole board to a fist fight to prove his worth, you realised that it was something he did want to do. In a way, it was like you gave him the strength to look beyond the prison walls and wonder about the world that had turned its back on him years ago.

But before you could climb off the couch to get ready to leave, Yancy took your hand to keep you sitting. He looked you in the eye with a soft smile spreading on his lips. “Before we go, I, uh… I wanna do something first.” You trusted him, so you nodded to give permission. His free hand rested on your cheek as he leaned close and kissed you. It was gentle and brief, yet there was a trace of ‘thank you’ in the action. “We never properly kissed before now. Got a little carried away with all that chit-chat.” You grinned and returned the gesture. The love you had was mixed with excitement. A step had been made in the relationship, making it more official than before.

“Love you.”

A year can bring so many things, good and bad. Even when one year ends, the next can bring about its own excitement. It might be a long road ahead, but you were ready to take it on every step of the way.

---

And that’s a wrap! One full year of visitations! I did have fun working on this, but I’m glad to be finished. It’s entirely your decision how things go from here, but I’m sure it will be a happy ending.

Should you ever feel like reading the entire series in one go, head on over to my AO3, where I have it all ready and waiting!

#writersofmark #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #yancy #Visitation day #final part hype!#it's cheesy; it's fluffy; but it's the final chapter and I can do what I like! >:D #(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#personal fave

86 notes · View notes

heliads · 4 years

Text

Angel Part 1

Spot Conlon fell in love with you because of your beautiful voice. What will happen when he finds out it’s all because of a dare from Jack Kelly?

masterlist / part 2

The sound of cobblestones clicking under your heels disappears into the bustle of a Manhattan afternoon. It’s sunny today, the first time in a while. You smile at your newsie friends as you pass them, walking briskly past office workers and wealthy ladies to reach your destination: Medda’s theatre.

You’ve been working for Medda for almost a year now, as a singer, pianist, and basically whatever she needed at the moment. You’ve sung by yourself, as backup to another act, played the piano, and helped her organize the acts performing at her theatre. All in all, you’ve proved yourself a hardworking and trustworthy friend to both Medda and the newsboys of New York, which is why you’re also not surprised to see Jack Kelly leaning against a wall in the theatre’s lobby.

“Jack Kelly, is that you? Who are you hiding from now?” At the sound of your voice, Jack looks up and grins. “Aw, Y/N, you’se just as kind as ever. And for your information, I’m not here to hide- we Manhattan boys have a meeting with some of the Brooklyn newsies over some of our selling rules.” You walk with him backstage, where you’re enveloped by the noise and commotion typical of Medda’s theatre. “Oh, doesn’t that sound wonderful. You tell me tomorrow how many times the Brooklyn boys soaked you during your meeting.” Jack pretends to pout at you. “Don’t be like that, Y/N! We can defend yourselves.” At your raised eyebrows, he adds on: “Especially because only one of them is coming.”

You check the clock on the wall, relaxing when you see you’ve got more than an hour before your performance starts. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. You going to stick around after the show or should I just go home once I’m done?” Jack turns to you with a contemplative look on your face that makes you more than a little worried. “Actually, I’ll need your help for one small favor.” You turn to him, sighing. “What would that be? I’m not planning on becoming a newsie, and there’s no reason for me to be at your meeting, so don’t even-”

Jack holds up a hand, stopping your little outburst. “Don’t you worry! I just need you to sing extra nice tonight. You see, when Spot Conlon and I were setting up tonight’s meeting, he made fun of Medda’s theatre. He was saying some kinda nonsense about how Brooklyn boys were tougher than us in ‘Hattan because they don’t spend all their time watching people sing and stuff. I wanna get back at him for saying that.”

He looks at you, letting a small grin slide across his face. “One thing you should know about Spot Conlon is that he’s kinda partial to pretty goils like you. So, I’ve arranged for him to come over a little early, during your act. He’ll see you sing, he’ll fall in love, I’ll make fun of him. Then we’re even. So, what do you say?”

You look at Jack in disbelief. “You think me singing is going to make the King of Brooklyn fall in love with me? Are you out of your mind?” Jack scoffs. “Of course it will! You’re a goil, he’s a tough but lonely guy, case closed.” You raise an eyebrow. “Well, I appreciate your confidence in me, but I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.” When Jack looks at you with pleading eyes, you sigh but relent. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just keep in mind that I think this plan is ridiculous.” Jack grins happily at you. “You’se the best, Y/N.” You wave a hand at him while you start to get ready for your performance. “Yeah, I am.”

Spot Conlon sighs as he makes his way from Brooklyn to Manhattan. He’s tired after a long day in the hot New York sun, and now he has to deal with Jack Kelly and his friends. He passes by shops and street corners, silently enjoying the nervous looks from the Manhattan newsies. He is entertained by their reactions, although he’s more than earned his reputation it’s kind of gotten away from him and spread like wildfire throughout the newsies of New York. First, he hears that he’s beaten up both the Delancey brothers before they could even blink, then he’s stolen money right out of Pulitzer’s pocket whilst selling papes. It doesn’t matter how impossible the story, it just adds to his fame and the fear when newsies see his face.

Before he knows it, he’s slipping into the refreshing coolness of Medda Larkin’s theatre. He doesn’t know why Jack insisted on gathering here, but he supposes it does work well as a meeting room. One of the many acts is just finishing up, so Spot confidently strides up to Jack, who’s waiting backstage.

“Kelly.” “Conlon.” They spit on their palms and shake hands. “You ready to talk business.” For some reason, Jack’s eyes gleam. “Actually, a friend of mine is about to perform. Surely you don’t mind if I watch? She’s asked me to stick around.” Spot sighs. “You should’ve told me to come later. It’s not good to keep the King of Brooklyn waiting-”

Spot’s grievances are interrupted as the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen walks onstage. She’s dressed in a light pink dress, which brings out the soft E/C of her eyes and glow in her cheeks. She comes to stop in front of a microphone stand, and takes a moment to prepare herself before she starts to sing.

Spot swears he’s never heard anything like it. Her voice is sweet like honey, and comes tumbling out from her delicate lips to swirl and cascade around the theatre. Spot is mesmerized, and his reverie is broken only when the song finally ends and the girl curtsies to the sound of wild applause. Jack turns to him, grinning. “So what did you think?”

The girl comes off stage to greet Jack, smiling happily at him. “Was it alright?” Jack laughs. “You were spectacular, as always.” The girl turns to Spot inquisitively, and Jack introduces them. “This is Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn. Spot, this is Y/N L/N, a good friend of mine.” When Y/N looks at him, Spot feels like he could get lost forever in her eyes. Just as he’s opening his mouth to say something, Jack claps his hands together. “Well, we should be on our way. We have a meeting, as I told you.” Y/N nods, then says goodbye and leaves them to their business. Spot can’t help but watch her go, wishing he weren’t just here to talk selling rules with Jack so he could spend more time with her.

When Jack’s meeting with Spot is finally over, he practically runs up to you, beaming with satisfaction. “Man, you should have seen the look on Conlon’s face. He was head over heels.” Somehow, your heart gives a funny little flutter when you hear that. Jack never told you that Spot Conlon was that good-looking, and you can feel a light blush settling onto your cheeks from the mere mention of his name. “Good for you.” You two talk for a moment longer, then you wave goodbye to your friend and head out of the theatre.

“Can I walk you home?” You turn in surprise to see Spot Conlon waiting for you outside of the theatre’s exit. The two of you have a wonderful stroll to your apartment, and you feel more than a little disappointed when you reach your door. “It was really nice to meet you.” You say in a whisper. “I would agree. In fact, I’d like to get to know you better. Would you’se be okay if we met up again?” You break into a grin at that, and readily agree.

And so you and Spot grow into a fast friendship. He is kind, and handsome, and you treasure every moment you spend with him. The little things about him seem to stand out to you, like the way he laughs or the flash in his eyes when he sees you. Even the nickname he’s given you, Angel, makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. You often meet up at the theatre after your work is done, and it’s a day like this that you find yourself seated at the piano when Spot walks in to walk you home.

“You know, Angel, I don’t think I’se ever heard you play.” You look up when you hear Spot’s voice, and let a light smile cross your face. “Probably because I usually only sing when I perform.” You pull a few pieces of sheet music from a stack next to you and place them in front of you. “I do love to play, though, and I try to practice as often as I can. Medda’s nice and lets me play whenever I want, as long as there isn’t a show going on at the time.” You let your fingers dance across the keys, and Spot walks to stand beside you. “You know, I didn’t listen to that much music before I met youse. Guess I was too tough to get a personal musician.” You laugh at that, although you feel guilt wrapping up inside you. The truth is, this is exactly what Jack wanted when he first asked you to sing for Spot. You’ve tried to convince yourself that things are different because that performance was over, but a tiny thread of doubt creeps around your heart.

After you finish playing, Spot walks you home as always. You let yourself love the way his fingers curl just slightly towards yours, as if he wants to hold your hand but feels too afraid of how you feel to close the distance between the two of you. It might be the only time Spot Conlon has been nervous to do what he wants. You enjoy the feeling of him walking beside you, but your happy mood is ruined once you see Oscar Delancey striding towards you.

You start to tense up once you see him. Oscar Delancey has the unfortunate habit of having a crush on you, and it seems like he’s made it his one goal in life to ruin whatever friendship you have with a boy out of pure jealousy. One time, you were talking with Jack on the way to Medda’s theatre, and he tried to call Snyder on him just because he was walking with you. Luckily, the other newsies are well aware of your predicament, and know to take care around him, but that doesn’t stop you from getting nervous at the sight of Oscar’s eyes growing cold when he sees Spot with you. Spot touches your hand comfortingly, and he whispers in your ear: “Don’t worry, Angel, you’re with me. He won’t do anything to hurt you.”

Unfortunately, this appears to not be the case. You’ve just passed Oscar when he scoffs and says loudly, “You know, Spot, if you knew the truth about why Y/N wants to spend time with you, you might not want to be around her anymore.” Spot, cocky as ever, rises to the bait and turns around to face the Delancey brother. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Oscar just chuckles. “Oh, didn’t you know? Jack Kelly dared Y/N to sing extra nicely when you first met her so he could make fun of you for talking dirt about Medda’s theatre. She doesn’t care about you, never has.” Spot’s eyes flash to you. “Is this true, Y/N?” You feel frozen in place. “Well, uh, it wasn’t like that-”

When he realizes you can’t deny what Oscar said, Spot’s gaze turns angry. “That’s funny, Y/N. Real funny. Do you know why I wanted to walk you home every single day and be with you all the time?” You can feel tears threatening to spill out and you do your best to hold them back. Spot leans closer to you, speaking in a whisper that only the two of you can hear. “I wanted to be with you because I loved you. I can see that was stupid of me. Tell Jack you got me fooled, okay? It was a good prank.” Your eyes widen, and you start to stammer out a reply. “Spot, please! It’s not like that! I-” The King of Brooklyn just walks away from you, leaving you alone with the words dying on your tongue. I loved you too.

#newsies #spot conlon #spot conlon imagine #spot conlon x reader #spot conlon imagines #newsies imagine #newsies x reader #newsies imagines #newsies broadway

94 notes · View notes

juju-on-that-yeet · 3 years

Text

Night and Day

Whumptober Day 29: I Think I Need A Doctor Prompt: Reluctant Bedrest

Illinois is stuck in the clinic recovering from his concussion, but he's not the only injured ego in the clinic. Yandere is there too, and both he and Lio are anxious to leave the clinic, but for different reasons. (cont. from “Fall From Grace”)

Warnings: References to injury, some angst

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

Illinois isn’t the only one in the clinic right now, but as much as he hates being injured and stuck in bed, he understands he’s the one better off.

After all, he only has a concussion to push through, though it is a pretty bad one. One bed over, though, is Yandere, who has a couple fractured vertebrae, a broken shoulder, a gunshot wound to the stomach, and a concussion nearly as bad as Lio’s.

Lio had heard the story in pieces as Dr. Iplier treated Yandere and got him settled; the walls of the clinic rooms are thin, and Lio overhears almost everything without even trying. Apparently, Wilford accidentally shot Yandere while he was in the catwalks of the studio, causing him to fall and land right on his back. Lio may curse his bad luck, but maybe it was good that he fell on his head. At least he was still able to walk out of that cave.

But he won’t be doing any walking for a while. Dr. Iplier had taken one look at him and pretty much demanded he rest and stay in the clinic for further monitoring. “Rest” includes physical rest, but also cognitive rest.

“No reading, no screens, limited social interactions and only the lightest of activity,” Dr. Iplier had stressed, “And that’s for the next four or five days, maybe longer if I feel like you need it.”

Lio hates it, but there’s one person who doesn’t.

“Lio, doll, you almost died!” Yancy exclaims the first time Lio complains, “Youse got any idea how worried I was about you!? I call ya, you sound real fuckin’ weird, you tell me ya fell and hit your head, and then you stop talkin’ and won’t answer no matter what I say to youse!! I half-thought youse was dead, Lio!”

“I feel like I’m gonna die,” Lio mutters, “Of boredom. There’s nothing to do! I can’t even listen to an audiobook or stretch my legs out of this bed.”

“It’s so ya don’t get brain damage, doofus,” Yancy scolds him, pouting in a way that makes Lio want to kiss him, though he knows it isn’t the time. “Besides, hon, you could be worse. I just got done talkin’ to Yandere.”

Right, Yandere.

As much as Lio pities himself right about now, he can’t help but feel bad for Yandere. To be injured so grievously is one thing, but to be injured, even accidentally, by someone you love? He can’t imagine how it would feel, mainly because he can’t imagine Yancy or Magnum ever hurting him. Somehow Magnum is even more doting than Yancy when he visits.

“How are ye feeling, lad?” Magnum asks fretfully, puttering over Lio with his huge brows drawn together with worry. “Ye need a pillow, or another blanket, maybe yer hungry–”

“Mags, relax,” Lio tells him, unable to keep from chuckling, “I’m fine, all I need is to get outta here and back to adventuring again.” He sighs. “No chance of that yet, though.”

“Afraid not,” Magnum agrees, “I’ll warn ye now that if ye try leavin’ the clinic before Doc wants ye to, I’ll be puttin’ ye back to bed meself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lio admits. There’s not a single person in this building that Magnum couldn’t toss over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry wherever he pleases – except maybe the Googles, but even then, Lio bets Magnum could do it.

Yandere gets visitors, too. Yancy, of course, whenever he visits Lio. Chrome too, mostly to entertain Yandere by the sound of their conversations. Dr. Iplier probably checks on Yandere more than is strictly necessary, certainly more than he checks on Lio. Dark comes by too, and while it makes Lio uneasy to be around him, he’s not nearly as intimidating when he’s asking Yandere how he feels for the third time that day.

The only person close to Yandere who doesn’t visit him is Wilford.

Lio knows Wilford to be devil-may-care, unperturbed by blood and injury, even when it hurts those he loves. He’s heard stories from Bim about the times Wilford has gotten Bim shot or stabbed by accident, and according to Bim, Wilford never cared much about those. Half the time he didn’t even apologize, and he was never scared away from visiting Bim while he was healing. But hurting Yandere so gravely must’ve managed to give Wilford some guilt, enough to keep him away from Yandere’s bedside.

“Did you ask onii-san to visit?” Yandere asks Dark for the dozenth time.

“I did, love,” Dark replies for the dozenth time, “He always tells me he will, and then when I ask him why he hasn’t, he says he will this time, and so on.” He sighs. “I know from experience that getting Wilford to do something he doesn’t want to do is…challenging, to say the least.”

Lio can imagine.

“But why not??” Yandere whines, “I miss him, and I know he feels bad, but…I thought you said he was okay.”

“He certainly acts like it,” Dark says, “But there’s no way he isn’t still thinking about it. At this point, though, trying to talk to him about it will only make him worse.”

“I guess,” Yandere mutters. No, sniffles, Lio realizes.

“There now, love,” Dark soothes, “No need for tears. Just because Wilford isn’t visiting doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You know as well as I do how much he loves you.”

“I know,” Yandere says, quiet and sad, “I just…I want to talk to him, and I want him to stop blaming himself.”

After a couple days of this, Lio wakes up in the middle of the night to soft weeping.

He immediately feels awkward; he shouldn’t be hearing Yandere’s private grief. He debates pressing his call button to attract Dr. Iplier, so he can notice Yandere’s tears and comfort him. But that feels too weird, too underhanded. But he also can’t just lay there and listen to Yandere cry. It’s true that he and Yandere don’t get along the best – well, more like Yandere doesn’t get along with him. He still hasn’t forgiven Lio for breaking Yancy’s heart all that time ago, even though Yancy has. He’s civil enough to Lio for Yancy’s sake, but you’d never catch him alone with Lio if he can’t help it. Still, Lio can’t help but feel bad for Yandere, not to mention how tired he is of lying here doing nothing. That’s what makes him speak up.

“Um, hey…” he says, not sure how else to begin.

Yandere keeps crying. Either he can’t hear Lio or doesn’t know he’s being spoken to.

“Hey, Yandere,” Lio tries again, louder this time, “You alright?”

A dumb question, but Lio doesn’t know what else to ask. Yandere hears him that time, and his weeping stutters as he prepares to speak.

“No, y-yarou,” Yandere mutters, “The hell are you listening f-for anyway?”

Lio doesn’t know what “yarou” means, but he doubts it’s kind.

“I wasn’t trying to listen,” Lio says, “But you woke me up. It’s pretty to hear what’s going on in your room, even if I try not to.”

“How m-much have you heard?” Yandere asks warily.

“Most of it, I think,” Lio admits.

There’s a pause.

“Great,” Yandere mutters, annoyed enough that his tears are petering off. “If that’s true, what the hell are you asking me if I’m okay for? You already know what’s going on.”

“I’m trying to be nice,” Lio says, a little annoyed himself, “I didn’t want you to cry, and now you’re not crying anymore, so you’re welcome.”

“Ugh,” Yandere says, and Lio can practically hear the way his lip curls in irritation, “Whatever.”

Another pause.

“Sorry about…everything with Wilford,” Lio finally says, “Sounds tough.”

“I guess,” Yandere says, quiet. He thinks for a moment. “What happened, it…it reminded him of something. Have you seen the “Who Killed Markiplier” series yet?”

“No,” Lio answers truthfully. He hasn’t watched much of Mark’s videos, though he’s heard that particular series mentioned by the other egos before.

“Well, you’d understand if you had,” Yandere scoffs. “I just…” He sighs. “I just wish I could talk to him myself, get out of this stupid bed and find him.”

“You’re telling me,” Lio groans, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve wanted to get out of here for four days already.”

“Didn’t you get here four days ago?”

“Exactly.”

Yandere snorts despite himself, and Lio chuckles as Yandere quiets himself.

“You know, I think Yan-kun can tell how thin these walls are,” Yandere sighs, “Maybe not consciously, but he always seemed worried about getting overheard in here. Guess I should’ve taken the hint.”

“Sounds like Yancy,” Lio laughs, “But why would he be worried about getting overheard? I’m the only one here to listen.”

“Because,” Yandere replies, “He feels like you aren’t taking what happened to you seriously enough.”

“I mean, I knew that,” Lio says.

“Do you, though?” Yandere asks. A pause. “I was there when he called you, you know. He thought you were going to die. When you stopped answering him he thought he’d heard your last words. I had to tell Yami and Wil what was going on because he was crying too hard.”

Lio’s heart twists over itself. He had known Yancy was scared and worried, Yancy had said so himself, but he hadn’t known how bad it’d been for him.

“Really?” he can’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” Yandere says, “When you got brought to the clinic, Kaizoku-kun had to drag him out so Shishi could actually look him over. And now that you’re getting better, he’s still worried about you because he’s afraid you’re gonna go out and get hurt again, and it’ll be even worse this time.”

The worst part is that Lio can imagine it. He can imagine Magnum having to scoop up a screaming, sobbing Yancy and carry him away so Dr. Iplier could do his job. He can imagine that every time he complained about being cooped up, every time he wished he could go back to adventuring, every time he wanted to get out of bed and back into the wilderness stabbed Yancy in the heart to hear it. That all those wishes to go back to normal made Yancy fear what could happen to Lio next, made him fear that Lio had learned nothing and would go out and get himself killed. Lio hates that he couldn’t see it, hates that it took someone pointing out to him how distraught he made his boyfriend feel.

“Fuck,” Lio mumbles, “I guess I better apologize for worrying him.”

“Yeah, you should,” Yandere affirms, a tiny bit of smugness in his voice. Lio barely cares.

“I’ll fix my thing in the morning,” Lio says, “I hope your thing gets fixed soon, too.”

A pause, the longest one yet.

“Um, thanks,” Yandere mumbles, “You too, I guess.”

It takes Lio a while to fall back asleep as he tries to think of what to say to Yancy. It occurs to him that Wilford might be feeling similarly; wrestling with the knowledge that he hurt someone he loves so much and fearing that an apology isn’t enough.

~~~

Yancy doesn’t visit Lio until the afternoon, but Lio still hasn’t come up with an apology that feels right. It all feels too out of nowhere or not good enough, or like he’s apologizing for getting hurt more than he is for not taking it seriously. He knows Yancy wouldn’t blame him for a freak accident, apologizing for that piece of it feels wrong. But even just apologizing doesn’t feel like enough. This wouldn’t be the first time Lio hurt Yancy, and he wonders with some bitter sadness why Yancy still puts up with the pain Lio causes him.

So when Yancy comes in to talk to Lio, he acts like everything’s normal. He doesn’t complain about being stuck this time, but he can’t find the words to apologize – until Yancy starts to leave.

“Alright, I’ll letcha go,” Yancy says, getting up from the chair he’s sitting in, “But maybe I’ll come back later if Doc lets me.”

“Wait,” Lio says, internally cursing himself, “I have something I need to tell you.”

“Youse coulda said it anytime these past ten minutes, doll,” Yancy says teasingly, “I’m gettin’ outta here before Doc yells at me for makin’ ya use your brain too much.”

“Yancy, hold on!” Lio insists, reaching out and taking Yancy’s wrist, stopping him from walking away, “It’s important, babe, I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Look, Lio, I know youse hate being bored,” Yancy says, and Lio can see the tired sadness in Yancy’s eyes now that he’s looking for it. “But youse gotta sit tight until Doc says you’re okay.”

“That’s just it, Yance, I…” Lio sighs, deciding it’s best to just be plain about it. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Yancy asks, confused enough that he doesn’t try to pull his arm out of Lio’s hand.

“You’ve been worried about me,” Lio says, “Even after I got rescued, you’ve been worried, and…and I’m sorry I haven’t been taking that worry seriously, or taking my recovery seriously.”

As he talks, Yancy’s expression goes from confusion to shock to holding back emotion, especially when Lio pulls Yancy back to his bedside, hand moving from his arm to clasp his hand in his own.

“I shouldn’t have kept blowing you off,” Lio murmurs, “And I should’ve been more focused on getting better instead of just getting out of here.”

Yancy sits back down in the chair by Lio’s bed, looking down.

“I said I half-thought youse was dead before,” Yancy mumbles, voice thick, “But that ain’t true. I fully thought you were dead, or about to be. I was such a mess I could barely tell Dark what was happening. I worry every time you travel, and it just…” Yancy chokes a little. “It was my worst fear come true. And hearin’ youse complain about every little thing, about having to stay here and heal, just…made me wanna scream sometimes. Made me feel like youse didn’t care, about me or about yourself.”

“Jailbird,” Lio murmurs, reaching out his free hand to cup Yancy’s cheek. The action makes Yancy finally look up, and Lio isn’t surprised to see and feel tears on his cheeks, but it still breaks his heart. “I do love you, and I sure do care about getting better. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” He strokes Yancy’s cheek, catching tears. “I’m thinking I’ll stay home for a while once I heal. Maybe take you on one of the local hiking trails, one where the worst that could happen to me is a sprained ankle, but otherwise just chill out.”

“Is that just to make me feel better?” Yancy asks, managing a grin, “It’s workin’, for the record.”

“Kinda,” Lio admits, “But I’d also rather not go out and get myself hurt again.”

“Good answer,” Yancy chuckles, leaning forward to kiss Lio. Lio meets him partway, tastes salt on his lips.

“I love you,” Lio murmurs as they pull away.

“Youse said that already,” Yancy teases, “But I love youse too.” After a quiet moment, Yancy sighs. “Now I really gotta go, before Doc realizes I’m still here.”

“Alright, alright,” Lio laughs, letting go of Yancy’s hand. “I might get to leave tomorrow, though; he told me this morning. I’ll finally be able to talk to you longer than ten minutes at a time.”

“We’ll see,” Yancy says, though he’s still smiling. “See youse, freebird.”

“Bye, angel,” Lio replies as Yancy leaves the room.

Lio expects Yandere to say something after Yancy leaves, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. Maybe he’s sleeping, or too engrossed in whatever he’s doing to eavesdrop. Either way, Lio is glad Yandere brought the problem to his attention, even if it was just to have something to be smug about.

Lio can only hope Yandere’s problem can be solved soon.

~~~

That night, Lio is once again woken by the sound of Yandere crying. But before he can think to talk to him again, he hears another, much deeper voice soothing him.

“I thought you were waiting for me to visit,” playfully chides the accented voice of Wilford, “What are all these tears for?”

“Y-You wouldn’t visit,” Yandere whimpers, “I started th-thinking that maybe, maybe it was m-me…”

“It wasn’t you,” Wilford says, “It…it wasn’t you at all.” His voice sounds far away.

“Yami said what h-happened reminded you of…back then,” Yandere murmurs carefully, still sniffling a little. “I guess it makes s-sense.”

“I still feel bad,” Wilford admits, “You’d gotten hurt, by me no less, and all I did was stand there.” A pause. “I was too wrapped up in myself to worry about you.”

Lio is shocked. To call Wilford “self-involved” is an understatement, at least as far as Lio knew. He knew Wilford was feeling guilty, but for him to have such self-awareness is unexpected. Now Lio feels bad about eavesdropping, but it’s not like he can’t not hear what’s happening. Wilford’s voice carries even without him trying.

“It wasn’t your fault!” Yandere exclaims, “You didn’t mean to hurt me, and I’m fine now! Or I will be soon, Shishi said I only have to be here for a few more days.”

“I know,” Wilford sighs, “But then I went and made you upset while you were trying to get better. I knew I should see you, and I wanted to, I just…wasn’t sure if I could…manage.”

“I get it,” Yandere says softly, so quiet that Lio almost doesn’t hear it. “I have my own stuff. Not like you, but…we both have weird stuff in our brains.”

“That’s a way to describe it,” Wilford chuckles.

“I’m glad you came, though,” Yandere adds, “Even though it’s so late at night. Why now, anyway?”

“Figured I’d already waited too long,” Wilford says flippantly, “And besides, I knew you wouldn’t expect it! Was it a fun surprise?”

“Hai!” Yandere laughs, “But not so loud, Wil, if Shishi hears you and comes in he’ll get mad at you for visiting so late!”

“Oh, let Dr. Crabbypants get mad at me,” Wilford scoffs, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Ah, now he’s starting to sound like the Wilford that Lio is more familiar with.

“I’m also tired,” Yandere giggles, “And if I try to stay up all night, Shishi’ll definitely notice in the morning. And if I’m really tired, I won’t be able to cover for you!”

“Well, if you insist, I suppose I’ll let you get some sleep,” Wilford chuckles, “But I’ll be back to bother you again tomorrow.”

“Promise?” Yandere asks earnestly.

“Of course, otouto,” Wilford answers, gentle and fond.

“Good,” Yandere says, audibly relieved. “I love you, onii-san.”

“Love you too, kid,” Wilford replies, before the signature poof of him teleporting away sounds from Yandere’s room.

The last sound Lio hears from Yandere’s room is a happy sigh and the rustling of Yandere settling into bed for sleep.

Lio does the same, feeling much better at heart than he did the night before.

#illinois jones #yandereplier #markiplier fanfiction #fanfic #whumptober2020 #markiplier #kristin says stuff #my writing #this is wholesome #don't get used to that asfhdskjhfkgf

7 notes · View notes

thisentertaining · 3 years

Text

As the Blue Spirit Howls

Zuko was not a good shifter.

Azula could switch between her wolf and human skins between steps. Not Zuko, he needed several minutes before he even started the shift, and that was on a good day. If it had been Azula who Animal Control found in that alley, they would have walked away convinced that their eyes had played a trick on them. There had never been a dog there.

But Zuko's long transformation would have only revealed his kind to the world. Father may think he has no honor, but he wouldn't stoop so low as that. Even if that meant being dumped in animal shelter, trapped as much by the 24/7 security cameras as by the cage bars.

He had the worst luck. -

"Come on guys!" Aang said as he lead his friends through the clamoring barks of the shelter. "I want to show you my favorite dog! He's a sweetheart."

Aang lead the pair to where a monstrous beast of a dog was growling with raspy barks loud enough to drown out the rest of the shelter. His bright white teeth contrasted against golden eyes and a bright red scar that stretched over the side of his face as he lunged against the cage door.

Sokka laughed nervously. "Did the word 'sweetheart' change meaning when I wasn't looking?"

Chapter 2

Read On Ao3

“Come on guys, I want to show you my favorite dog! He’s a real sweetheart.” Aang said excitedly, voice raised to be heard over the loud barking that filled the air. Katara and Sokka followed behind, Katara looking around and coo-ing at the animals as Sokka frantically took ‘artistic’ pictures and boomerangs to post to his Instagram. The eldest of their group was proud to boast a couple hundred thousand followers. He had deleted comments, and his friends hadn’t had the heart to tell him that 99.9% of those followers thought that it was a parody site making fun of ‘artsy’ Instagram accounts. The .1% was the two of them.

“I think it’s great that you’re doing this Aang, this seems like the perfect place for you.”

The younger boy grinned with a blush as he accepted the praise. “Thanks! I just really wanted a place where I could help out!”

“And play with cute animals.” Sokka said with a snort.

“That helped.” Aang admitted, dragging them along to one of the back corners of the shelter, the section with less cute puppies wagging their tails and squirming, and more hardened looking dogs who watched them warily with low rumbling growls or furious barking. He of course, lead them to a cage where the dog was doing both.

It was a huge beast, a husky mix likely, though it was hard to tell. It looked like the dog had been shaved bare recently, though inexplicitly it’s fluffy black tail hadn’t been touched. The light smatterings of bristly fur that was starting to grow in on the rest of him did nothing to cover the smattering of scars that littered a body just this side of starvation. It certainly didn’t hide huge burn that stretched fully across one side of the dog’s face. It covered his squinting gold eye completely, touched a bit of his snout then wrapped around his head to completely mangle one formerly-pointed ear.

The dog’s face was a mess of color, from the pink skin, the black fur trying valiantly to grow in, gold eyes, bright red burn, and the bold white teeth that were stark against his lips as the dog maintained a constant warning growl. The growl only got louder as they neared, until it morphed into the loudest, most grating barks that the sibling had ever heard. Still, Aang continued forward as the monstrous dog started snapping, pacing, and lunging against the kennel wall.

Huge black-padded paws sent the kennel doors bulging as the dog snarled and threatened, his raspy barks drowning out the others in the shelter. Huge teeth snapped, and only the bars of the cage separated them from the children’s faces as the dog stood on long legs. Its tail lay inert between its legs, moving with the furious lunges of his body but not in any way that even remotely hinted at a ‘wag’.

“Uh, did the meaning of the word ‘sweetheart’ change when I wasn’t looking?” Sokka asked as Aang moved towards the cage latch. Aang simply grinned at him and slipped into the kennel.

“Wait!” Cried Katara frantically, obviously not expecting the boy to actually go in. She looked around in panic for a staff member who could stop her friend from being mauled by the beast.

However, the dog had backed away from the door as Aang opened it, and while his growls and ear-splitting barks did not cease, he was no longer lunging but pacing back and forth along the back of the kennel. Aang sat crossed legged on the cage floor and scooted forward until the dog had no more room to pace and it lay down with a huff. The growls and barks continued, but it did nothing more as Aang started freely petting its short, bristly fur. “His name is Blue Spirit, or Spirit for short. They found him in the alley behind the Blue Spirt bar. We’re pretty sure he was abused.”

“Duh.” Sokka muttered, but Katara jabbed at him with her elbow.

Aang continued, seeming to barely notice the interruption. “They even sent some officers to the bar, but no one would confess to recognizing him or his owner. I know he looks pretty scary, but he’s actually really sweet.”

The dog snarled, and let out a sharp bark, as if protesting the characterization. Aang immediately cooed and scratched his back harder. “Yeah, youse a sweetheart, yes youse are.”

The dog growled again, but didn’t so much as snap. Instead, he seemed to be leaning into Aang’s touch more and more. Katara cocked her head before moving to go into the cage as well.

“Wait!” Sokka protested. “He was psycho like 2 seconds ago, I don’t think this is a good- no of course you don’t listen to me. Why would you listen to me?”

The girl slipped into the cage and shut it carefully behind her. The dog eyed her warily, but didn’t even bother to growl at her like he had with Aang. Instead, it huffed out an irritated sound and looked away.

“See!” Aang beamed as she hesitantly knelt beside him. Katara offered her hand for him to sniff, which the dog did exactly twice before looking away with another huff. “He can tell if you’re nervous and isn’t so loud. He’s actually loudest once he starts to trust you. It’s kinda cute.”

The dog jumped to its feet, barking loudly into Aang’s face as though in protest. Sokka let out a bark of laughter and finally entered the, now cramped, cage as well. “Don’t worry boy, you aren’t cute. You’re big, tough, and scawwy, right buddy?”

Blue Spirit growled at Sokka, making him yelp, but the older teen didn’t move from his spot in the cage. With a calculating glance at his friend and sister, Sokka pat the dog on the head twice, as which point Spirit seemed to realize that no one was really intimidated by him anymore and turned to attack one of the rawhides in the cage. The dog brandished the toy at them when he tore off a chunk as though to prove that his teeth were powerful and to be feared. The group simply cooed at him and resumed petting.

_______

Zuko huffed and dropped the rawhide, collapsing with his head on his paws. This kind of stuff never happened to Azula.

“You should see him when little kids come in.” Aang continued babbling.

Of course, Azula was a much, much better shifter than him. A prodigy. Just thinking the words left a bad taste in his mouth. That may have been the disgusting dog food he’d been forced to consume for the past month.

“They don’t usually come back this far, but if they do then he doesn’t do anything. Just lays down calmly in the back like a good boy, no barking, no growling.”

Zuko was not a good shifter. He just didn’t have good control over his shift.

“And I swear he glares the ones that do scare the kids into submission. I saw a toddler pull his tail once and he didn’t even flinch.”

That wasn’t to say that he shifted unexpectedly like the movies portrayed it. That wasn’t the issue, that had never been his issue. His problem had always been the opposite. He was great at maintaining the shift, both as human and wolf, but transitioning between the two? That was harder.

“That’s really sweet.” The girl replied.

He growled again in rote protest against Aang’s favorite descriptor for him, but the new boy had just found that spot behind his good ear and he was too busy pressing into that hand to argue any more.

The shift that took his family seconds would take him several minutes of intense concentration. The more emotional he was, the longer it took. It had been taking a lot of time lately.

“Okay, fine, he’s growing on me.” The strange boy said, obligingly digging into that spot even harder. The girl was running her hands over his back, and Aang was carefully looking at his paws in a way Zuko knew was an actual vet’s trick. He wondered idly if that was what the boy was interested in doing. Volunteering in a shelter would be a good move if he was.

If Azula had been woken up in that alley by animal control (Azula would never have fallen asleep in an alley. He wasn’t sure what she would have done if she’d been kicked out and disowned and was half-starved and homeless, but it wouldn’t have involved sleeping in a dirty alley after licking disgusting drying beer off the ground in attempt to get any moisture into her parched body) she would have just shifted, yelled and threatened, and they would have walked away embarrassed that they had mistaken a girl for an animal, convinced it was a trick of their minds.

“I knew he would.” Aang said proudly. When had his tail started wagging? Why couldn’t either of his forms be good at lying? “Just don’t get too close to his face, especially the part with the…”

But not Zuko. By the time he had the been able to fight through the exhaustion, hunger, and blurriness from his reluctant drink to even start the process of shifting, they had already forced him into a cage in the fan and were slipping that stupid hoop-stick thing off of him so that they could close the door. He’d been so distracted on trying to shift that he hadn’t fought properly to escape.

A stupid mistake.

One of many.

“I can’t believe someone could do that.” Katara said softly. “Especially to a dog as sweet as this.”

He hadn’t been a dog at the time. He’d taken the form of a loyal son. That had been another mistake. He once thought it was a mistake he could fix. He’d given that up the night in the alley. Now he could only hope that this mistake wouldn’t be as permanent.

“Well, that’s the thing… you see-“

“Aang, we cannot get a dog.” The girl protested and Zuko blinked. They were getting a dog? Oh, right. “You know what Officer Fong would say about pets.”

Zuko’s brows furrowed. Fong… he knew that name. That was one of the officers who placed people into witness protection. More specifically, he was the officer who had organized the concealment of a witness known by the codename Avatar. The witness who supposedly held the key to ruining Father’s entire livelihood.

“We have Appa! And Momo!”

The witness who Zuko had been relentlessly hunting since the day that Father disowned him.

“We have Appa because he’s a licensed, therapist prescribed therapy dog to help your trauma and keep you from accidentally karate chopping people.” The boy said bluntly. “We have Momo because you can sneak him around in your pocket when they move us.”

The witness whose capture was supposed to ensure that Zuko could return to his home, to his family.

“It’s not karate, its-“

The witness who he had given up searching for when yet another dead end left him with an empty stomach, and a tiredness that allowed him to finally give up on the insane dream that Father still cared for him at all.

“Aang, if I have to listen to your list of martial arts that you’re magically good at one more time, I’m going to fall asleep on the dog.”

Zuko would have growled at that, but his mind was moving to quickly, his heart feeling like it was exploding in his chest. It couldn’t be. Avatar was supposed to be a hardened gangster, or a skilled hacker, or shrewd fixer, or… not a kid. He wasn’t supposed to be some kid.

Aang pouted. “We aren’t supposed to have social media either, Sokka.”

Maybe it wasn’t. Fong had to have several cases, right? (Never mind that Avatar was supposed to have two companions, not eyewitnesses but people he had told everything. Codenames Boomerang and Bender)

“I can’t disappoint my fans Aang. Besides, no one knows it’s me. There are no faces, no names, no comments, I don’t even tag our locations.”

Zuko had to know. Fong was good. It was hard to get any information on Avatar, but Zuko was able to get a few tidbits here and there. The pertinent one: he was supposed to have tattoos. Supposedly he had blue arrows on his head and hands.

The girl sighed loudly. “Not this argument again.”

He had hair covering any head tattoos, and Zuko didn’t see anything on his hands, but he had to be sure.

“Great, then we can go onto a new argument. So, Appa is great but he’s more my dog than anything because I have to take him like, everywhere. You guys deserve a pet too and Spirit is- uh. Spirit?”

Zuko had risen to a sitting position and met Aang’s eyes before leaning over and very deliberately licking a large swath down the boy’s wrist. His tongue came away covered in a bitter tasting powder that sat thick and heavy.

“Did you guys see that?” Aang asked, voice raspy in awe. “He’s never done that before, with anyone. It’s a sign!”

“Awww.”

“Aang. That does not change anything.”

“But Katara-“

They were arguing, but the words were rushing around Zuko, lost in the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the small wrist, and the pointed tip of a tattoo that he had revealed.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #ATLA #Fanfiction #My Fanfics #Zuko #Aang #Katara #sokka #Modern AU #Werewolf AU #I don't know what I'm doing #Weirdest plot I'd thought up ever #But it wouldn't go away

11 notes · View notes

thebadchoicemachine · 3 years

Text

karl in Prowa, what will he do

“You know, you really should do that.”

“Pardon?”

“I- sorry, that just slipped out. I don’t mean to sound preachy.”

“No I mean I didn’t understand youse. Do what?”

“Smoke. It’s... pretty bad for you.”

The man just took another drag, staring Karl down with blank puzzlement.

“Ah, tobacco is-“ Karl was interrupted by the stranger coughing, choking on his inhale.

“Oh, uh, what is it then?”

The man put the strange-smelling stick back in his mouth. “You a sap?”

“Hey, it’s just a question!”

“Oh, that’s... really cool actually. Are you trying to be healthier?”

He snorted, raising his hand to head in laughter. “Oh, healthy. Mmm. No. I like the taste.” He pulled out a nearly empty box with a few little sugar sticks left and held it out, offering. Karl hesitated for a moment before selecting one, it was a little purple.

“So, do I need a light or...”

“I told you, it ain’t a cigarette.”

“Right.”

He awkwardly set the stick in his mouth. It tasted like sweet paper (but still paper). He guessed he should open it somehow? Uh... hmmm. He bit the tip of it, jumping at the sudden sting of flavor. It was something he didn’t quite know the name of, sharp and sweet, vaguely like blueberries and red cinnamon dipped in static.

“Mmm!” He exclaimed, causing the man to smile and laugh. It was a sweet look on him, soft, genuine, happiness.

“Tastes good, don’t it?”

“Yeah, I think? It- ACHK,” Karl choked as he inhaled the sudden puff of smoke in his mouth. He forgot he was supposed to blow the stuff out.

The well-dressed man flicked away his own stick and raised an eyebrow. “Youse sure you ain’t a sap?”

“Oh, ha ha.” Karl shifted, not really offended. “Um, thanks for letting me try one. I’m Karl, by the way.” He stuck his hand out, a small goofy smile slipping across his face. “I’m... new around here.”

“Oh, ya don’t say?” The man half-rolled his eyes but took Karl’s hand happily. “Name’s Quackity, I run the casino ‘cross the ways there.” He gestured to a flashy building down the street.

“Whoah. Cool.”

“You gamble?”

“Ah, you could say that.”

“Meaning?”

“It depends,” Karl clicked his tongue, playfully eyeing the building in the distance. “I play a lot a lot of games.”

“Well,” Quackity chuckled “if you’re ever lookin for a good time, swing by. We might be able to find a game or two you can… enjoy.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Karl smiled. He liked this guy. “No, you know what? Defiantly. I’ll come by sometime, count on it!”

“I’ll hold you to that. I- fuck, speaking of my work I should be getting back.”

“Oh,” Karl frowned, sad to see his new friend gone too soon. He’d kind of hoped to talk more.

Quackity seemed to share the sentiment. He stopped a few steps away and turned around, glancing to the empty road rather than looking Karl in the eye.

“Hey, uh, Karl…”

“Yeah?”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Personally, I think ya’d look keen in just about anything but folks ‘round here are arrogant, neighborhood reputations and business and all that.”

“I guess I should find something else to wear. Any recommendations?”

Quackity eyed him up and down, gears turning in his head. He nodded like he’d thought of something he liked.

“Quackity?”

He jumped like he forgot this was a conversation. “Uh, I got… a few ideas. I- you know what? Come with me, Imma get youse dolled up fine.”

“I thought you had to go back to work?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he scoffed. “Charlie can cover me for a while. I’d rather talk s’more with yo- UH- I mean, I wanna see you in- no, no, that’s worse... I mean I-“

“I’d love to!” Karl jumped in, saving Quackity from his stammering.

“Oh. Well then,” Quackity smiled and held out his arm, face just a little pink “shall we?”

Karl linked his arm. “Like I said, I’d love to.”

@thecatchat here’s the doodle

#unofficial dimensions #writing doodles

31 notes · View notes

orange-waterfalls · 5 years

Text

Home

Yancy x gender neutral!reader

@fuchsia-vision ty for the prompt!

A/N: This is my first fic so go easy on me lol. It's rated T for a couple curses. It doesn't actually use any pronouns at all so gender neutral???

Word count: 1.6k

Yancy turns and walks back to the prison. He sighs, opening the door and heading back to his cell. He keeps thinking about your handsome and/or beautiful face. He begins to think about what would've happened if he'd gone with you. You two could buy a house, more likely an apartment, you could get a dog, you could get jobs you enjoyed, you could be together. You two could be… happy. Together.

What's he thinking? You'd never like him. At least… not in the way he likes you. He's not worth it. He grins when he thinks of the smile on your face when he suggested helping you break out. He really hopes you'll visit… and who knows? Maybe parole will roll around pretty quick.

He sneaks through the halls, carefully avoiding the guards and making it back to his cell. He lays on his bunk and closes his eyes, falling asleep with the thought of you in mind.

You, on the other hand, have no thoughts of sleep. You haven't even left yet. Reason 1, you thought it'd be kind of a dick move to leave Mark like that. Reason 2, you were breaking Yancy out, whether he liked it or not. Now, you have a plan. It's a pretty shit plan, but it's a plan. You'd go in through the same way you came out, grab Yancy, grab Mark, then leave. Perfect. Apart from the fact that you had worn a blindfold and have no idea where you're going. You'd forgotten about that. You sigh, trying your best to remember what had happened. Was it a left? No, it was a right. Or… was it up? This would take a while.

What took Yancy 30 seconds takes you 30 minutes. You get pretty lost on the way and somehow managed to get back outside. On the bright side, you found Mark in the infirmary and grabbed him. He was a bit woozy from the painkillers, but he understood the plan. He said it was shit. You debated throwing him back in, but eventually decided against. He made his way to the door to the outside while you make your way to Yancy. You're just about to give up when you hear a voice mumble something.

"Yous guys is gonna regret that…" Yancy slurs in his sleep. You run over to where you heard it come from and sigh in relief. He's clutching his pillow and snoring slightly in his bunk. You stand there for a minute, admiring how adorable he is, before taking the skeleton key out and unlocking the cell quietly. You tiptoe over to him and kneel down in front of his bed.

"Psst… Yancy… C'mon, we gotta go," you gently shake him. He groans and slowly stirs awake. It takes a moment for his vision to clear and he sees your face. "Hey buddy," you repeat his words from when he helped you escape earlier that night.

"Oh… I'm still dreamin'," He concludes.

"No," you shake your head, "I'm real. And you need to get your ass up out of there." His eyes widen as he quickly sits up, hitting his head against the top bunk and falling out of bed. You pull him to his feet and hold his shoulders to keep him steady. He holds yours to keep you there in case you would just disappear as soon as he let go. He looks all over your face for any sign of something, a joke, a… a prank, something that tells him this isn't real. Of course he wants it to be real, but you never know.

"What's yous doin' here?!" He whisper-shouts, "Yous was supposed to go back to yous's peoples! Why's yous here?!" You move your hand to his face and he leans into your touch.

"You're coming with me. I am not leaving after all we've been through." You state.

"I've known yous for three hours," He squints at you.

"Time is a construct," you shrug. "Besides, I already got a friend outside, you're not bailing now." He is now completely convinced you are the love of his life. You grab his hand and walk towards the hallway. He doesn't budge from his place in the cell. You look back at him and tilt your head, confused. He sighs and lets go of your hand.

"Listen… I really like yous, I really do… but…" you turn towards him fully. He looks at you. "I belong here… I already told youse, I done a lot of bad things. Bad things get peoples in here. I don't think I can go back out there…" You walk up to him.

"Yancy." You say. He avoids your gaze. You narrow your eyebrows. "Yancy" you say more sternly. He looks at you. "I really don't care whatever you did. All I know is that you are wonderful and…" you pause, thinking about whether or not you should say it. He lifts his head.

"And?" he urges you to continue.

"And…" you inhale deeply. "And I'm pretty sure I'm starting to fall in love with you." You finish. You stare at the ground, not wanting to look at him. You force yourself to look up at him and see the happiest face a man can make.

"Youse shoulda led with that." He comments. "Alright," He grabs your hand. "Let's go."

You both quietly leave the cell, locking it behind you. He leads, navigating the halls much faster than you did.

"So, how'd yous even get back here? I covered youse's eyes wit a blindfold." He asks. You chuckle nervously.

"Well… uh… I just kinda-" you're cut short by a yell from behind.

"They're here!" The guard yells.

You curse under your breath. Yancy squeezes your hand in a comfort attempt and runs. You can see the flashlights following you as you navigate the prison. You struggle a bit to keep up with him with all the twists and turns. At one point, you jump into a sewer.

"So I was supposed to go up," you say to yourself. You keep going until you finally find a place to hide. You stay until the guards give up and continue looking elsewhere. You both sigh and laugh at the fact that you made it. You look down and your intertwined hands and flush. Yancy does the same as he removes his hand and clears his throat.

"S-So, uh, yous gots a friend waiting for us?" He asks.

"Yup." You nod. "His name's Mark. He's the reason I'm here in the first place." You explain. Yancy knits his eyebrows together.

"He got yous in jail?" He asks, a tad peeved. You shrug.

"Well… I did agree to rob a museum. Plus, I chose the helicopter when neither of us could fly it, so…" you look to the side. Yancy stares at you for a moment and you get nervous, thinking he thinks that you're stupid. Then, he laughs.

"Yous… yous is insane. I like yous a lot. And this Mark guy… he sounds cool. Yous is both gonna be fun to hang out with," he smiles comfortingly at you. You grin and grab his hand, knowing where to go from here. You run out the door and see Mark at the gate. He waves to you and you wave back. You run over to him, Yancy's hand in yours.

"Hey! Oh my God, I thought you got caught for a minute there… God, I am so relieved you…" he stopped when he saw you and Yancy hand-in-hand. You both blush. "So, uh… is this a thing now? Because if so, I need to ready the guest bedroom at the base."

"Yeah… it's a… thing." You cough. Mark smiles.

"That's awesome! I'm happy for you, bud!" He congratulates. "Hey, I uh… I hotwired a car for us and found the map, so we can head back to base now…" he says. "I'll, uh, be in the car." He snaps his fingers and walks the other way. You let go of Yancy's hand and turn to him.

"Yous is sure about this, right?" He asked, slightly apprehensive. "I mean. I don't wanna be a bother to yous or yous's friend… maybe I'm not ready for society yet…" The doubt is clear on his face, but it disappears when you put your hands on his face.

"If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have gone back for you," you joke. He smiles and scoffs. You watch him for a moment before him a quick peck on the lips. He freezes and you wonder if you broke him. After a couple seconds, he smiles and kisses you. You both are out of practice, but you eventually remember how to kiss properly. You adjust yourselves for a better angle and continue kissing.

What can I say? It's like riding a bike.

You pull away for breath, both of you panting slightly.

"Well, uh.." He coughs, "we should… get to yous's friend over there…" You nod.

"Yeah… we should." You grab his hand again. "Ready to go home?" He smiles at the question.

"Course I am," You squeeze his hand start to walk. He intertwined your fingers. Anywhere can be home with you... he thinks. He takes a deep breath. "Hey…" he calls your attention and stops walking.

"Yeah?" You ask, getting a bit scared. He rubs your hand with his thumb.

"I think… I think I'm falling in love with yous, too," You kiss the back of his hand.

"Good," you whisper. You both continue walking towards the car, happily anxious for what's to come.

#ahwm yancy #yancy #yancy iplier #yancy markiplier #a heist with markiplier yancy #yancy x reader #yancy x male!reader #yancy x female!reader #yancy x gender neutral!reader #male reader #female reader #gender netural reader #ahwm #a heist with markiplier

762 notes · View notes

itsyourimaginaryworld · 4 years

Text

This is Home (Yancy x Reader) (Part 1)

Ship: Yancy x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: The process of Yancy falling in love with you, and you falling for him.

Warnings: Nothing yet except we gotta watch out for Mark yelling at us that Yancy doesn’t love us back.

Words: 1062

Note: It’s a pretty slow burn with multiple parts! You’ll earn Yancy’s respecc, don’t worry. I’ve got so many ideas for this one but I don’t want to make it too long, so parts it is!

Next part!

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

The prison was having a quiet evening. Yancy leaned against the brick wall in a relaxed pose as he watched his fellow family members hang around and chat. A part of him was nagging him to sneak to one of his many hideouts and have a quick smoking break, but his attention was soon divided by the familiar sound of a heavy door.

His eyes diverted to the newcomers that had just walked in. They first landed on the man who looked, well, a little like him. Or maybe more than a little. The striped hat went a long with his outfit and his eyes were filled with distress. Yancy couldn't quite hear it from here, but he yelled something at his companion.

He paused for a moment when he saw the handsome and/or beautiful person and a thought immediately crossed his mind. What’s someone like they’s doing in a place like this’s?

They held their hands around a box that looked like it contained something valuable, but they soon had it taken away by a guard. Yancy already saw the easiest way of snagging it back. Honestly, why did they even bother?

His curiosity getting the better of him, he snuck closer so he could hear their conversation.

"I see two ways out of here, either we cozy up to the guards..." The man gestured vaguely towards them, "or we try to rally the prisoners to our cause."

Oh, I already know which option would be the better for youses... Yancy thought to himself. But in the end, neither of they's wanna break youses out.

Prisons had a bad reputation in the outside world, but he usually tried not to think about it. He found a better family and a home here, for free without having to do any work (except making sure you don't get through parole), and you're already in prison so there's no need to follow any rules! It was magical — couldn't they see?

Then again — why did he care?

The companion hesitated for a moment and Yancy could the spark of worry in their eyes. Maybe their friend always put the heavy choices upon them? Maybe that same friend blamed them for being in prison now? And just maybe, that friend was the whole reason the two of them were in prison now.

"Let's ask the prisoners..." they eventually answered.

"Good call!" the man replied, "now, the easiest way is to get these guys' respect - and trust me when I say, I know a thing or two about respect!"

Before they could say anything else, the guy marched over to Jimmy the Pickle and shouted, "Hey! I wanna talk about respect!"

The hostility in his voice... Oh, he could not have made a worse mistake.

"It's something that we've been really missing here lately!" He pointed his finger at the guy twice his size as if it didn't matter. "I need you to respect me and help me and my friend, break out!"

Well, it was entertaining, and Yancy had to admit the man's bravery of doing that was certainly something. Something he didn't quite catch in Newcomer #2.

Jimmy, as expected, one hit punched him through the wall, which was then quickly covered up by two other prisoners before the guards could rush in.

"Break out? Of this place?" Yancy said in a raw, husky voice, turning around to stare the leftover fellow right into their eyes. "Why would anyone wanna break out?"

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

You couldn't quite process what was actually going on right now. Time seemed to move so incredibly fast.

First you had agreed to rob a museum with your friend Mark, for some reason that was far beyond you right now. Maybe his plan wasn’t so perfect after all.

The next second there was a convienent helicopter just waiting for you two, and in your excitement you stupidly forgot that neither Mark nor you are pilots.

Now you had found yourself between the outcasts of society, in Happy Trails Penitentiary. Well, you were technically a criminal now... But did you truly belong here?

"The outside world recoils in fear..." Your gaze was locked onto the man whose voice started singing and you were met with a view that almost paralyzed you.

"Thinking if they slip up, they'll get locked up in here..." He was radiating his toughness simply by his looks. He reminded you of Mark in a sense, but with his hair slicked back and a lot more muscle.

"You're killing yourself just to make ends meet..." A tattoo of a tiny box was marked on the side of his neck, and his arm tattoo was some sort of pattern you couldn't quite make out from where you stood.

"While I'm working on my tan and kickin' up my feet." The accent sounded almost straight out of some 1920s gangster movie and you wondered where this guy was actually from. But you couldn't deny how well was singing since these three simple lines had already sent shivers down your spine.

You still could barely move a muscle or interact with anything... your stomach felt weird and your heart raced, but you couldn't quite tell if it was from fear or something else.

"You can't beat living in prison, there's always something to do!"

Wait a second, this guy was happy about being in prison? And he was... singing about it?!

"And you know who's paying?" He shot you a questioning look.

"Everyone but you!"

Okay, you had to admit he was making a good point here.

"Every day I wake up to a nice hot shower, don't pay the water bills so I'm scrubbing for hours~”

Was this sarcasm, perhaps? Irony that you weren’t getting? Or perhaps you misread the sign and this was actually Happy Trails Mental Asylum.

"Shoot some hoops, then lift weights in the yard!"

Another prisoner chimed into the song now as well, but you weren't too excited when he pulled out a blade. "Maybe blow off some steam, shiv a rookie guard!"

Oh no, they were dead serious about staying here...

"And there's nothing more exquisite..." a new voice sung along happily, "than when I get my fourteen minute conjugal visit!"

"Come on and meet the gang!" The main prisoner continued, gesturing to you with his hand and looking you straight in the eyes.

"There's Jimmy the Pickle-" he pointed at the guy who punched Mark, "and Shithole Hank, he makes the best Hooch wine in his toilet tank."

Alright, gross...

"There's Bam-Bam, and Tiny, and Sparkles McGee..."

You tried to memorize the names just for the sake of it.

"And every single one of us scumbags agree..." he trailed off his sentence and shot you an awaiting look.

You hesitated, swallowed and searched your mind for words. The right words.

"You don't wanna be free?"

#a heist with markiplier #yancy #yancy x y/n #yancy x reader #yancy fic #ahwm #markiplier

385 notes · View notes