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jeonqkooks · 2 years

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beep boop | jjk

“Beep boop. Repeat until not sad.”

pairing: jungkook x reader (a tongue tied drabble)

genre/warnings: neighbor au, established relationship, fluff, mild angst (mentions of insecurities and anxiety), there’s a brooklyn 99 mention 👀

word count: 2.1k

note: technically this can be read as a standalone but i would recommend reading the other tongue tied drabbles as well for more context! tbh this isn’t as edited as i’d like but it’s still gotta be one of my personal favorites 🥺 oh and it’s inspired by this infamous post lol

series masterpost | main masterlist

“Are you listening to me?”

“Huh?”

It’s not until this moment that you take in Jungkook’s appearance for the first time since you came home. He isn’t in his usual homewear nor his work attire; instead, he’s clad in dark jeans and a gray hoodie. The jacket you spot hanging from the coat rack by the door informs you that he’s heading out.

That’s when you feel a little guilty for not paying attention to him. Since you walked in the door, you’ve only greeted him with a simple hi and a quick peck on the lips before going to change out of your work clothes and settling on the couch, only to turn on the TV and stare at it blankly while you get lost inside your head.

Jungkook had texted to ask if he could use the dryer in your apartment because the one in his was acting up again, so you weren’t surprised when you came home to half-eaten snacks on the coffee table and a man folding his laundry in the middle of your home.

“The guys and I are coming over to Jin hyung’s place to watch the game,” he repeats patiently before turning to point toward the kitchen, “I got fried chicken from that place you like. Just heat it up before you eat.”

“Okay,” you say, “All the guys are gonna be there?”

“Yeah, but maybe not Hobi hyung though. Said he got a date or something.”

You confirm Jungkook’s suspicions of your less-than-pleasant mood when you only nod at the mention of Hoseok—your newfound soulmate—going on a date, a juicy detail that would’ve had you buzzing with excitement otherwise.

“What’s up? What’s bothering you?”

His eyes are already on you when you look at him. Unsure of what to say, or if you should even say it at all, you bite the inside of your cheek. It sounds trivial when you envision verbalizing your inner turmoil.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Slightly nervous at your silence, Jungkook tries again. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I’m here to listen if you do.” This time, you only open your arms wide, beckoning him to come over to your spot on the couch. When he does, you wrap yourself around him and sigh heavily. Somehow, his familiar scent always soothes you. Everything stills for a few beats.

“I think I tanked the presentation today,” you eventually mumble.

He immediately knows. It’s the presentation to pitch your creative proposal that you’ve been working on nonstop for the past two weeks. He’s not sure what happened, but his hand comes up to rub your back anyway.

“Why do you think so? Did they reject your idea?” He asks.

“No,” you say hesitantly, “They said it’s good. But they need another week to decide.”

“Did they say anything else?”

“They said they liked it, and that’s really kind of… it?” You sigh, and you’re not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I just feel like it wasn’t good enough. Like I did something wrong.”

Jungkook doesn’t exactly love the way you’re making yourself smaller and doubting yourself, but he appreciates how you’re willing to open up and be vulnerable with him. You’ve been dating for not even three months, but he’s known since before you got together that you’re not this facade you always showcase. You want people to think that you’re more confident and put together than you really are, but it has to get tiring sometimes. Nobody is perfect.

“Look at me,” your boyfriend says, and he has to repeat it more sternly before you finally do. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re so good at what you do, and I know how hard you worked on that proposal. Everything’s gonna be okay. They said they liked it, didn’t they? They probably just need some time to look it over more thoroughly and figure out the kinks and stuff. I’m serious, you’re one of the most dedicated people I know. It’ll work out, baby.”

His words of encouragement take a couple minutes to soak in. You pout before muttering a small thank you, then you’re looking away and hiding your face against the side of his neck. “This is odd. You’re usually a shithead,” you chuckle, trying to change the subject. You’ve never learned how to take a compliment.

Jungkook rolls his eyes halfheartedly, before pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Seriously though, do you want me to stay?” He says after a moment of silently holding you. “I can text Jin right now–”

“It’s fine, bunny,” you say as you place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it to reassure him, “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. Go have fun with the boys.”

He only hums as he squeezes you once before letting go to press his lips against your cheek this time.

“Beep boop,” he says, and taps the tip of your nose lightly.

“What?”

“Beep boop,” he repeats, like saying it for the second time helps clear things up in any way. “I read somewhere online that saying it immediately cheers you up. And I quote, “Beep boop. Repeat until not sad.” Beep boop, beep boop, beep boop.”

You laugh at the way his lips repeatedly pucker to accommodate the syllables. It’s really not that funny, but he sounds like a malfunctioning Siri and he keeps echoing it until your body is shaking with laughter and your eyes are starting to well up with tears.

Jungkook finally stops when you slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from talking. It takes a couple minutes for you to calm down; but hey, at least you don’t even remember that you were upset in the first place.

Your hand moves away from his face, but it doesn’t get very far before he catches your wrist yet he says nothing. He just stares at you—your face flushed and eyes glossy with unshed tears from laughing too hard. And there’s something about the way he’s looking at you now; it’s different though not by much, stars in his eyes are still twinkling back at you, but there’s a certain warmth blossoming behind them that softens his entire face.

Then he’s pressing you into the couch and kissing you like his whole heart is behind it. (The group chat is making his phone vibrate incessantly in the backpocket of his jeans, but Jungkook soldiers on). He takes his time, with every slow glide of his lips against yours, to make sure you know he means what he said. That you’re talented, you’re hardworking and dedicated, that you deserve so much more than you think you do.

There’s another thing that he wants to say too, but he doesn’t think it’s appropriate to spring that on you when you’re distraught. So, for now, Jungkook hopes you feel it through the force of his kiss, the delicate swipe of his thumb across your cheek, how his arm around your waist keeps pulling you closer as if he’s trying to mold you into him; all the ways his body is communicating with you in lieu of words.

“Okay, go!” You giggle breathlessly as you pull away when his hips start to move, “I can feel your phone blowing up through your entire ass.”

After Jungkook leaves, time seems to move incredibly slowly. You let yourself be comforted by his words and soothing touches earlier, but your anxiety doesn’t stay subdued for long. It comes back to gnaw on your insides while you gnaw on chicken and fries.

Occasionally, you actually say the words “beep boop” out loud and giggle quietly to yourself. Maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of the phrase that has you laughing, or maybe it’s the way you keep envisioning your boyfriend’s unintentionally silly voice as he said it. Either way, it works.

But it’s only temporary. Even after you’ve taken a long hot shower and put on a face mask for good measure, there’s still a growing urge to pace around the apartment and mull over everything you could’ve done better. You decide to text Jungkook.

[22:36]: are you gonna sleep there

[22:44] Koo 🐰: maybe

[22:44] Koo 🐰: why? do u need me to come back?

You suddenly feel silly, and you debate even telling him at all. Would he think you're being clingy? But you power through the bashfulness anyway; there’s no way you can sleep like this.

[22:47]: nooo stay

[22:47]: i just wanna ask

[22:47]: if i could sleep @ yours tonight :(

[22:48] Koo 🐰: mi casa es su casa

[22:49] Koo 🐰: but why tho. cuz it smells like me? lol

[22:52]: …ye :(

[22:53] Koo 🐰: oh shit i didn’t think u’d actually admit it 🤯

[22:54] Koo 🐰: i miss you too baby

[22:56]: shut UPPPP

[22:56] Koo 🐰: beep boop

You’re already packing up your electronic essentials—phone, laptop, charger—when he gives you the go-ahead. As soon as you’re in his apartment after the two-second commute, relief washes over you. His bedroom is your first destination; once you reach it, you’re immediately setting your things on the mattress and plopping your face onto his pillow. (You’d look a little crazy if someone were to see you, but whatever).

His scent feels like sunshine on your face after a season of rain. It’s not only the smell of his detergent or the lingering fragrance of his cologne. It’s him, something so wonderfully and tenderly Jungkook. You’d bottle it up and douse yourself in it if you could.

You stay in the same position on his bed until your anxiety fades from a storm into a low background noise. It’s getting late but you’re not that sleepy yet, so you pop open your laptop and put on a couple episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. The computer is set on Jungkook’s side of the bed, turned toward you, while you settle comfortably against the pillows. You fall asleep before Jake and Amy exchange their vows.

By the next time you open your eyes, the room is already filled with fresh sunlight. It’s a bad habit, but as soon as your eyes adjust to the brightness filtering in through the curtains, your hand darts out to grab your phone on the nightstand. The screen lights up to notify you of unread messages from Jungkook last night.

[00:53] Koo 🐰: u still up?

[01:21] Koo 🐰: gnite bbyyy 💜

[01:22] Koo 🐰: beep boop

It should be alarming how much the texts make you smile and butterflies erupt in your stomach. You reckon you must be grinning to yourself like an idiot for at least five minutes before you start to notice a change in your surroundings. It didn’t register when you first awoke that this isn’t your apartment, and it’s not your own bed that you’re sleeping in. The laptop is no longer sitting next to you but has been placed on the desk a few feet from where you are. There’s a heaviness weighing on your midriff, and you look to find a tattooed arm resting on your body.

Jungkook stirs to life when you turn in his loose grasp. “G’morning,” he smiles lazily at you.

“Morning,” you parrot. “What time did you get home?”

It takes a minute for him to blink the sleep away, and you’re left to marvel at him while he acclimatizes to wakefulness. Seeing his handsome face first thing in the morning isn’t something new to you, but you’re in awe every single time. With his eyes slowly blinking to adjust to the light, his lips parting to let out a yawn and soft curls falling over his eyes, it’s not a sight you think you could get tired of. There’s always an urge to spend forever with him like this.

“Like, three?” He shrugs. He pulls you closer when he notices your brows furrow in that way that lets him know you’re about to scold him. “Don’t worry, I took an Uber. Couldn’t sleep there anyway. Missed you too much.”

Gentle words of reprimand die on your tongue at his confession. There’s a stutter in the way your heart is beating, his soft morning voice sending a rush of warmth throughout your entire body. You immediately relax as you settle in his arms and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. He smells like the Downy fabric softener he always uses and he feels a lot like… love.

The mere thought has you spinning even though you’re snugly wrapped in Jungkook’s cozy embrace. Suddenly, it’s like you’ve crossed a line into something more than let’s just see where this goes, something that you haven’t known in years but somehow it doesn’t feel as scary this time. You think you know where it’s going, and the destination looks like coming home to warmth personified and a bunny smile.

You press a soft kiss into his skin as you sigh, “I missed you too, dweebus.”

⏤ as always, i would really appreciate any comments or feedback you may have :) please consider leaving a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed reading ♡

⏤ taglist (send me an ask if you wanna be tagged!): @moonchild1 @takochelle @hellojeongkook

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #fic: tongue tied

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beerecordings · 4 years

Note

Could I please get some favored puppet au content? 👀 with Chase and Anti, perhaps with them going through a very routine day? (I can send another ask with one of those sentence prompt if that's too vague)

Favored Puppet AU: Based on the relationships in this post, Anti has certain egos he’s kidnapped and come to favor. Some are his “pets,” some he genuinely sees as friends. (Chase, One: Anti realizes it might have become attached to the human man it’s been haunting for months now and decides to steal him for its own.)

Trigger warnings for mentions of human sacrifices and monsters eating humans, including children. It’s only briefly mentioned, not a real plot point, but it’s from Anti’s perspective so it’s very straight-forward about it.

Part 1/3.

Sleepy human.

Anti sits beneath his little loft room, listening to Chase breathe.

Hhhhhhh – mmmmm. Hhhhhh. Mmmmmmh. Cough. Hhhhhh.

Breathe through his nose. Peaceful like birds singing.

He makes the whole house smell like human – warmth, oxygen, faint vanilla from the shampoo Anti bought him from the dollar store. Anti doesn’t mind. Anti likes vanilla, and warmth is okay, and when he comes home, the air in the house moves and circles and spins because Chase is there, breathing. Hhhhh – mhhhh. Sleepy, sleepy human.

It makes Anti sleepy too. What time is it? The moon is going back to bed. The sun is coming back. He’s been out all night hunting. Insomnia, Chase calls it. Wouldn’t you rather rest?

The thought of wanting to sleep was not something that had ever occurred to Anti before Chase. What is sleep to a fairy in the human world? Just a chance for your enemies to hurt you.

But Chase’s sleeping makes him tired too, these days. Chase’s sleeping makes him want to rest.

He climbs the ladder up towards the little loft room, where Chase’s bed is tucked against the one wall. His warm body splays out over the blankets. Anti falls onto the mattress besides him without fanfare and Chase mumbles, throwing an arm over him. Anti lies still, staring up at him, at his quiet face. Chase does not wake to the smell of him or the touch of him or the words that he whispers in his broken voice before he lets his eyes slide shut. Chase no longer wakes for Anti’s presence.

These days, they rest together.

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

“Beep beep beep.”

Chase’s eyes slide irritably open to the sound of Anti mimicking his old alarm clock.

“Beep. Beep beep.”

“Have you decided that’s a comfortable spot?” grumbles Chase, glaring down at the demon resting the weight of most of his body against his ribcage.

“Beep.” Anti glares back at him. “Beep beep beeeeep.”

“Five more minutes.”

Anti sits up and digs his elbows into his lungs.

Chase makes a noise like “hurk!” and squirms to get away, only ending up pinned down to the bed, yelping as Anti digs his sharp little elbow right beneath the ribs.

“Torturer!” shrieks Chase, grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping him onto the bed.

They both know from experience that if Anti wanted to he could lift Chase up by the back of the neck with one hand or pin him down even if he struggled with his whole body against him – they had a long learning curve in terms of Anti trying to figure out how to keep him quiet when he was upset, though they figured it out eventually. But play was also included in the learning process, and Anti, for all that he could tear Chase’s head from his spine with his bare hands, allows himself to be pushed down onto the bed and held by the shoulders, growling up at Chase with dog’s teeth bared in his mouth.

“You’re the worst,” says Chase.

“Beep,” says Anti one more time, and boops his nose. “Eat food time.”

“Are you going to cook for me?”

“No cook! Chay cooks. Sssstupid.”

“What should I make?”

“Make house smell like meat!”

“Bacon it is.”

It’s been thirteen months since the day Anti shoved him into the car and drove him away from his burning apartment building. And Chase, well – he’s adjusted.

He can’t wake up without Anti waking him up, but Anti makes sure to wake him up, so what does it matter? Chase says it’s not healthy, sometimes. Anti hates that. They’ll be in the middle of a good time and then Chase will go quiet all of a sudden and start shaking his head. “This isn’t healthy. Look at me. This isn’t healthy. I know it’s not.”

But luckily, those moments are becoming fewer and fewer.

Anti purrs, lying back on the bed as he watches Chase stretch, listening to the pull of his muscles and the pop of his joints. He’s getting stronger and fatter. Anti is pleased.

“Come on, then,” says Chase, brushing his hand over Anti’s hair as he passes. “Let’s get some food, mister.”

Anti glitches down the stairs and waits for Chase to follow, heading for the kitchen. “Bacon, bacon, bacon,” he chants at him, pronouncing it incorrectly in his glitching, electronic-sounding voice. He gets the bacon out of the meat compartment and tears the bag open with his teeth, letting the last bits of pink pig’s blood stain his teeth before handing it over to Chase. “Cook.”

“What noise does it make?” Chase tests him, taking the bacon and setting the frying pan on the stovetop.

Anti frowns, irritated. S’s are hard for him. He glitches back and forth across the room for a moment, shape-shifting his mouth.

“Sssssszzlll,” he manages finally, his eyes lighting. “Hsssss.”

“Yay,” Chase laughs. “Good job.”

Anti simpers, pleased with himself, leaping up onto the counter and kicking his legs back and forth. Yes, things are good these days. Things are good and getting better all the time. His pet. He made the right choice all those months ago.

The bacon does sizzle, flecks of hot grease leaping out of the pan. Chase stands carefully back as he fries it. Anti comes closer, watching it with a mild sort of contentedness in his eyes. He sticks his hand above the pan and lets the grease jump up onto his skin. Black burns gnaw into the white flesh, revealing veins and bones in his hands, though nothing bleeds. Nothing on Anti ever bleeds.

And Chase just cooks, unperturbed. Anti lifts his hand up to show it to him.

“Gross,” says Chase, smiling.

“No, cool,” says Anti. “Lit.”

Chase laughs so hard he almost drops the frying pan.

“That’s my fault for using lingo around you, dude.”

“Dude,” repeats Anti. “Lit. That’s my fault.”

“Say, ‘I am a grumpy baby.’”

Anti cocks his head at him, squinting his eyes.

“I am a grumpy baby,” repeats Chase, grinning. “Come on, you can do it.”

“Mmmmmh. Grumpy baby,” he growls, leaning forward with his teeth out.

“Hey, hey! What did we talk about? No biting!”

“Play,” protests Anti, mashing their skulls together, looking at Chase’s ear.

“No, no biting even for playing. Humans don’t like getting bit. Most of the time.”

“Grumpy baby,” grumbles Anti, stepping back again and pacing around the kitchen. “Grumpy.”

Chase turns around, leaning back against the counter and smiling at him as he watches him meander around, glitching and transporting. Eventually, Anti glitches back into his space and picks up a piece of bacon.

“Have you had bacon before?” he asks politely.

“No, I ask you that,” laughs Chase. “You know I’ve had bacon before.”

“Have I had bacon before?” Anti corrects himself, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, have you?”

Anti tilts his head again. Right, left. Right, left. Like a curious bird. Chase reaches up and scratches at his beard and Anti melts into his touch, purring.

“Try?” offers Chase.

“Try,” repeats Anti, sticking a piece of bacon in his mouth.

It’s good. Pig flesh and fat.

“Sssszzzl,” he mimicks quietly, putting his head down on Chase’s shoulder, because he owns him and he’s allowed to. His pet. His. “Hissss.”

“Good job,” says Chase softly, scratching the side of his head. “Good job, Anti.”

And it’s not healthy. And it’s not right. And Chase knows.

But he doesn’t care anymore. Or not very much, anyway.

“Sszzl,” he says back to his monster, petting his hair. “His.”

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

“Okay, ready?”

“Okay!”

Chase throws the baseball and Anti swings, sending it sailing into the air and off towards the pasture. It startles Brego and they laugh as she kicks her legs and storms off to the other side of the field, making all the chickens start running around in alarm too.

“You have good aim, Anti!” says Chase. “I’m going to throw it high.”

“It hits it high, so,” says Anti, readying his stance again. He strikes the ball almost straight up and laughs when it comes crashing down and slams into his face, darkening a bruise across his cheek, only for the purple and black to disappear again a minute later.

“Now you,” says Anti.

“No! You throw it too hard!”

“Oh, throws it too hard?” He picks a ball up off the ground. Chase shrieks and sprints away, covering his head with his hands as Anti tosses the ball up and down in his hands and races after him. Halfway through he transforms into a dog and ends up tackling Chase to the ground, barking at him and dropping the ball on his chest, pinning him down with his paws.

“Ewww, dog slobber!”

“Slobber!” screeches Anti, bouncing on his paws. That’s a new word! “Slobber, slllllhlhhlob.”

Chase laughs, scratching at his ears. “Slobber!”

“Slobber.”

“There you go!”

“There you go,” replies Anti fondly, covering his face in dog spit even as Chase groans in protest. “There you go.”

Chase giggles and takes his head between his hands. “Pretty puppy,” he says, cajoling him.

“Puppy puppy.”

“Pretty puppy.”

“Party puppy.”

“Party puppy’s pretty good too.”

“Party pastry pupper good good?”

Chase laughs. “Too many p’s all at once?”

“Pp pp pp,” answers Anti politely, transforming back into Chase and letting his hands press into his shoulders. Chase reaches up to touch his short brown horns and smiles in the afternoon light.

Yes. Happy. That’s how Anti likes him. This is how it’s meant to be. They play around until Chase’s heartbeat is racing like strong, healthy human hearts are meant to, and Anti feels pleased with most everything that exists.

Twenty minutes later he is sitting against the door of the bathroom, knees to his chest, listening to Chase cry his eyes out.

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

“Sad?” whispers Anti, knocking their heads gently together. “Why is Chay sad? It’s okay. Hey. It’s okay. Me and you. Me and you.”

“I’m just being stupid,” he sobs. “Just don’t go.”

Anti purrs unhappily at him, patting his back. He wraps Chase up in his blankets and cocoons him against his body, and for a second Chase squirms – Anti has noticed that some ways of moving him make him embarrassed and he’ll say things like “I’m not a baby!” – but then he settles again, weeping into his sleeves and cradled against Anti.

“Something made him sad,” says Anti. “Poor Chay. Sad Chay. I hate that. Don’t be sad. Hey, chill, man, it’s okay.”

“Chill, huh?” Chase chuckles weakly, blinking his red eyes up at his monster. “Say freesh avocadoo.”

Anti cocks his head back and forth, back and forth, growling playfully a little at Chase, knowing he’s being teased.

“Freesh,” he experiments, digging his fingers into Chase’s side. “Freesh? Fish accordion.”

“Good enough,” says Chase, managing a smile.

Anti smiles back at him. Chase works on wiping away his tears, still snuffling.

“Why are you sad?” murmurs Anti, knocking their foreheads together.

“I just have a headache.”

“Oh? I’ll get Tylenol-lenol-lenol. I’ll get Tylenol. There, you said it right. Okay.”

“No, Anti, I don’t want Tylenol,” sighs Chase. “I just need to rest a little and drink some water. I never feel like that helps.”

“No, you’ll take it,” Anti insists, heading down the ladder.

He sees irritation flash on his pet’s face even as he descends. Chase comes down after him all grumpy. Anti can tell it’s grumpiness because his face gets scrunched up and he huffs a little when he breathes, his nose getting thin and then not-thin again, thin and then not-thin.

“I said I didn’t want some. Can’t you just listen to me for once? I’m getting a cup of water.”

Anti pours a Tylenol into his hand and turns around to grab Chase by the hair.

“Hey! Stop it, you know I don’t like getting grabbed!”

“Hey, be good,” Anti insists, tugging him close. He gives Chase a quick slap, not enough to hurt him, and Chase yelps in alarm and hits the floor on his knees. Anti trained him to do that pretty quick. He can also make him lie his whole body back against Anti’s just by grabbing his neck or make him stop fighting with a warning squeeze around both his wrists. He’s not hard to keep in line. It’s nice. He’s a really good human. Anti hooks his hand in his hair and pulls his head back, patting his cheek gently.

“Come on, so, swallow.”

“I don’t want it! Ow, ow, Anti, too tight!”

“No, not too tight,” says Anti, rolling his eyes. “You’re just being baby.”

“No, I’m not! You can’t slap me and drag me, Anti, you’re scaring me! I’m not a baby!”

“Yes! When it actual really hurts, you don’t say ‘ow’, you go quiet and squirm like a little rat boy.”

Chase tries to get up and kick him in the shins, scowling, which makes Anti laugh. He wrestles him onto the couch, curling his free hand warmly through Chase’s hair as he struggles and complains, pushing at Anti’s hands. Anti knows he’s just being whiny. He’s fine. He pushes the medicine between Chase’s teeth and holds his mouth and nose shut until Chase, with a broken little yelp, swallows.

“There,” says Anti politely, patting his head as he sits back. “Not so bad. Good Chay.”

Chase looks at him with watery eyes, his lip beginning to tremble. Anti pouts, squirming himself now. He hates it when he’s crying because of Anti. But he supposes he should have seen it coming. Chase gets all weepy sometimes when Anti does things like lock him somewhere or drag him. Anti doesn’t really get it. How long will it take him to come to terms with the truth that Anti could make him do anything he wanted to? He doesn’t understand.

“Stop, stop, shush, Chay,” he chirrups hopefully, getting onto Chase’s lap to press him back into a hug. “Don’t be crier again.”

Chase curls in on himself, trying to squirm away from Anti. Anti pulls him apart again and manipulates him into a hug – he knows Chase likes them – and he holds him down until finally he stops trying to get away and hugs Anti miserably back, beginning to cry hard.

“Oh, silly,” mumbles Anti, shaking his head against his shoulder. “Nothing to cry about.”

Chase hides his face in Anti’s shirt and weeps, shaking against his body. “Anti,” he cries. “Anti.”

“Just being silly. Just have to listen. Not so bad. He’s so sad today! Puppy doggy mister cry cry. Hey, I’m here. I’m right here. Not going away away.”

Chase makes himself a little ball, which Anti has to admit is kind of cute. He’s like one of those little black bugs that rolls around when you scare it.

Did he scare Chase, pinning him down and force-feeding him?

No. Can’t be. What is there to be scared of? He’s never hurt him since he took him, not on purpose, so they should be good now. Chase is just being weepy because he’s like that. Sometimes humans cry and it’s nobody’s fault. He wraps around Chase’s little roly-poly body and purrs against him, pushing their faces together and rubbing his back like he likes. Chase whimpers and wraps himself close around him, soaking in his comfort. Anti is pleased. He’s good at taking care of his human.

“Why still upset?” says Anti, running his hands through his hair, massaging at his scalp. He likes the way he can feel his skin move over his skull, just a little. “Heard you earlier. Crying in the bathroom too. And yesterday. Crying while you’re feeding chicken chicky chicks.”

Chase quiets down a little, blinking up at Anti, shaking his head weakly.

“No, no liar. Heard you. My ears are better than yours, mister.”

Chase sighs, resting against his thigh, his face red and splotchy with crying. He reaches out absent-mindedly and scratches his weak human nails over Anti’s knee. Anti shifts slightly, surprised. That feels nice.

“Can’t explain it to you,” grumbles Chase, mouth trembling.

“He tries,” Anti commands.

“You don’t even understand my language sometimes, let alone what I’m actually fucking feeling.”

“I learned English for you!” protests Anti with a flash of irritation, pulling on Chase’s hair. “Filthy tongue, bleck! Yucky! Why don’t you learn something respectable to speak, huh? You didn’t even try to learn Irish for Anti.”

“Cause you garble every word you’ve ever spoken and I can barely understand your English as is!” yells Chase, wriggling again. “Stop it, hey, don’t yank on me! Let go! Anti, let go! Now, stop, ow!”

Anti sighs indulgently, shaking his head, and pins him gently down until he stops struggling. That’s always the easiest thing with him. He doesn’t really have a lot of fight in him. He’d be one of those humans who would stay around camp and look after the babies and make food and things in the old days, Anti would put money on it. And that’s okay. It just means that he needs someone on his team who will look after him in the ways he can’t. Anti is the walls around Chase’s camp and the hunters who bring food back to him. Chase is the warmth that waits at home for him. It’s nice. He gets it, now, why humans lived like this. Why some of them still live like this. Together.

“I don’t like it when you make me do things,” cries Chase.

“I know,” purrs Anti, giving him some honest sympathy. “I know. Humans proud.”

“I miss the things you took from me! I want – I want – ”

“What? I’d give you anything, handsome.”

Chase gives a small snort, startled out of his tears. “Anti. We’ve talked about this. Not just any terms of endearment you hear on the TV fit for me.”

“Oh? You’re not handsome?”

Chase laughs a real laugh this time. “Okay, yes, I’m handsome, obviously. Super handsome. Almost unbearably so, let’s be real. But most of the time people don’t call each other handsome as a nickname unless they mean something by it.”

Anti grumbles. He hates human rules and dumb human. It’s Chase’s fault for making him watch rom-coms. How is he supposed to know? “I’d give you anything… kiddo?”

“Still no.”

“Buddy?”

“Haha. I mean, sure. Or you could just call me Chase.”

“Dumbass,” supplies Anti politely, stroking at his beard.

“There you go. That’s the right one.”

“Definitely.”

“Anti, you stole me away from everything I had,” says Chase, letting out a sigh that flutters the hair around Anti’s head. “Do you get that?”

“What did you have?” asks Anti. “Nothing. Mean people and a shitty apartment. Hurting yourself and waiting for me to kill you.”

“No, but Anti – fuck.” Chase turns his head away from him, something bitter in his eyes. “I… it was mine, you know? It was mine. And it was scary when you took me away. And you hurt me for a long time before that, man.”

“It was nothing,” answers Anti, stroking his hair. “You were so unhappy. Yeah?”

Chase sighs again, deep and tired. “Yeah… yeah, that’s true. But I just… I just…”

Anti leans in close over him, sharing body heat. For long minutes, they lie together, quiet.

“What is it you miss?” asks Anti. “Like you said. You miss things Anti took you from.”

Chase closes his eyes, hiding against his thighs.

“He tries,” Anti prompts again, gentler. “He tries.”

“I want my baby,” Chase weeps, a sudden heartbreak in his voice, like the tape on something broken inside his chest has fallen apart again. “I want my baby again, Anti!”

His baby?

Anti lies against him in silence, trying to think as Chase sobs against his legs. His baby wasn’t even there at the apartment. He hadn’t seen his baby in a long time.

“Anti… Anti did not take baby from Chase,” he protests, confused. “It does not bother with little kitten babies.”

Chase is crying too hard to answer. “Hunter,” Anti hears him crying. “I want my son.”

Anti doesn’t like how hard he’s crying. He puts a warm hand around Chase’s throat and purrs loudly at him, trying to make him quiet, but at the same time, he thinks this is one of those things that humans just cry about. When he was young, men would sometimes kill babies on the altars of the gods he served, and he remembers how the woman would come looking for her child every time if she was alive to do so. But there was the blood and nothing he could do about it. That’s how he feels now.

“Baby is dead,” he says softly, rubbing Chase’s shaking chest. “Has been dead long time. Years now? One, two? You told me so.”

It doesn’t make Chase stop. Anti sits back and shakes his head and just holds him. Pressed against his warm body. Listening to his broken breaths.

“I’m sorry, love,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, Chay.”

Chase holds onto his hands and doesn’t answer, tears running down his face.

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

Naps can be good for humans, or that’s what Chase has told him. Anti has suspected that this was just an excuse for Chase to crash on the couch every day, but today it’s alright.

He lets him sleep.

In the meantime, he cooks, because there are some days Chase says he doesn’t want to, and often when Chase is sad he doesn’t want to do things. Anti knew that even before he took the human out of his apartment kicking and screaming, What he has learned since then is the sort of things that Chase likes to eat. He did not respond particularly well to the Ramen, frozen corndogs, and plain bagels Anti had been bringing him at the start, and when Anti – in one of their first real conversations – demanded to know why he only ever ate that shit at his apartment but didn’t want it now, Chase explained complicated things like “fruit” and “being broke and exhausted and lazy and stupid” and “protein” and such. Anti began bringing him different foods.

Chase likes dried cranberries and kettle-cooked popcorn, ground beef in brown sugar and soy sauce and rice vinegar, Doritos, bananas, dried apple slices, orange juice by the gallon, sweet tea, pasta with parmesan and whipping cream, and oven-bake pizza with meat from at least three different dead animals on top. He likes cakes, too, but will never eat the whole thing alone – he always goes “Anti, have a piece?” and makes him eat at least a couple bites. Says eating cake alone is sad. Anti likes buttercream frosting.

He heats up some soup for Chase, thick potato soup with green onions and bacon from breakfast and a lot of nice yellow cheese, watching it rotate in the hot metal box above the oven until everything is warm and creamy. He puts it in a nice little bowl with a picture of a corgi on it and carves up a couple juicy white peaches, adding a glass of orange juice and some of the cottage cheese Chase eats in lieu of all the dairy he doesn’t like – his hatred of milk and yogurt is passionate.

He carries them over to the couch, touching Chase’s chin.

“Up, up,” he prompts him gently, and his human stirs awake on the couch after a good hour-long nap and looks up at him with big, red eyes. Anti’s always thought his eyes were pretty. Even when they’re all cry-cry red, the irises are sky-sea blue. Anti coos at him and offers him a spoonful of cottage cheese. Chase sticks it mournfully in his mouth and sits up, letting Anti stack his lunch around him on the couch. “Anti want you to eat.”

“I want you to eat,” Chase corrects him unhappily.

“There he is,” says Anti, petting his chin. “All okay, pet.”

Chase sniffles and doesn’t answer, sucking down his orange juice. Anti leaves him to wake up.

He has other things to cook.

“You remember what I told you yesterday?” he calls. “That Anti is having over company-panions. Companions? Company?”

“Oh, shit,” groans Chase. “Are they still coming over? Anti, they scare me.”

“Silly,” laughs Anti. “Just dumb fairies. Not even powerful as Anti. Nobody powerful as it is.”

“He, Anti, not it, you’re not an it.”

“Okay, Chay, I know you don’t like ‘it.’” Anti pulls a couple hearts from their refrigerator – well, he thinks ‘their’ as if he didn’t kill the couple that owned this house and then bring Chase here to replace them – and fries them on their big black pan in Crisco and Chase’s favorite taco seasoning. Taco Bell seasoning, reads the little packet. Live mas.

“I still don’t get what you mean by fairies either,” grumbles Chase. “Growing up nobody told me that fairies look like monsters and like to kidnap or eat people.”

“Because Chay American,” says Anti. “And young. Older days, people know what we are, their grandpa and grandma tell them the stories because they have seen us themselves. But nobody told Chay. He only has his story-tales, like his Happy Potter and Doctor Who Is It.”

At least that makes Chase chuckle, but he sobers up again soon. “Nobody’s going to try to eat me this time, are they, Anti?”

Anti growls, hackles rising just at the thought of it. He flips a heart in oil and watches it splash across the oven top.

Anti himself lost the taste for human a few thousand years ago, and he never wants to regain it even for a mouthful of Chase’s enemies. His god used to eat human sacrifices by the barrel and, when he was told to eat too, it would make Anti sick to the stomach, human blood corrupting his form until he could barely even rise some days, torn nearly in half by the pain. The great snake was never happy to find him retching up what he’d been fed. Real Unseelie should be able to take it. Anti had been small at the time and all he felt was guilt for his failure, shaking with terror when the jaws of the great snake would halfway swallow him in warning. He was glad when Padraig killed it. He hasn’t eaten human since.

Dark thoughts. He shudders, hugging himself for a moment, something he’s seen Chase do, and then he goes back to cooking. It’s deer, anyway. Even humans eat deer. The point is, he knows what his company will like for dinner, so he’s been buying up hearts at the market in the town. He might not eat any himself. He had bacon this morning with Chase.

Chase comes over while he’s cooking, still sniffly and quiet, and he puts his chin on Anti’s shoulder and leans against him. Anti scratches his beard with his free hand. Chase closes his eyes. Anti can’t remember if humans can sleep standing up or not.

“Go do something other than eyes closed,” says Anti, patting his back. “Go, go. Garden, shower, games, clean, horsie.”

Chase mumbles something non-committal, but he obeys. A few minutes later, he is outside in the crisp fall air. All he’s doing is petting his horse, but it’s better than just lying around. Anti knows he’ll feed her and then probably move on to his garden next. He took care of it all summer, even on his sad days. All his plants are offering him heavy harvests now. Humans can turn love into zucchini.

Anti hears himself purring. He finishes the hearts and goes outside, throwing on one of Chase’s big comfy coats and a pair of sunglasses for the smile of the sky, and he sits on the porch and drinks orange juice while Chase tears up weeds from the soft dark earth with his palms and his hoe, just like the farmers Anti has watched from the hills all his life.

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

“Ah, fuck.”

The ground explodes beneath the little gold boy’s feet and Chase’s character goes flying. He grimaces and restarts from his checkpoint, sitting forward in his determination.

Anti plucks at the pages of Ranger’s Apprentice. Chase talks about this series enough that Anti bought it for him, and now he’s trying to figure out the appeal.

“Fucking guardians keep getting me,” mumbles Chase, readjusting his grip on the controller.

He creeps through the field, crouched down low in the grass. His little golden boy wears a mask and ties his hair up like a warrior.

Anti glances over and then to the game. He turns his head down to the book again, casual as can be – and then emits a small, beeping tune.

Chase sits up straight, whirling his character around for a second. Anti goes quiet, not reacting.

“I know I just heard one, holy shit,” says Chase, getting frustrated as Link turns and turns.

Anti makes the tune again. Chase draws Link’s bow, spinning around.

There’s a pause.

Anti snorts out a laugh.

“Hey! Fucker, that was you!”

Anti laughs hard as Chase descends on him, babbling insults and punching at him. “Asshole!”

Anti shakes with amusement, intercepting Chase’s fists and squeezing them in warning, pushing his human back towards the couch. The tune plays again.

“Oh, I’m not falling for that again!”

A guardian blows up the ground at the character’s feet and Link goes flying.

“Goddammit!”

Anti slides off the couch, laughing til he coughs. Chase growls and falls after him, driving his weak, playful humans blows into his arm. Anti headlocks him and drags him into his lap, giggling as Chase growls in mock fury, struggling without heat.

Chase ends up playing his game splayed across Anti’s lap. Eventually he gets past the guardians, slinging Link’s blow around with precision. He’s gotten pretty damn good at the game. Anti watches his little character charge headfirst at his enemies, firing off arrows, and he feels a rush of fondness for him.

“Chase,” he says.

Chase looks up at him, grinning. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” says Anti.

He’s a good pet.

He’s a good… well. He doesn’t really get human words. But he’s good. He’s good.

Anti doesn’t want to see him sad anymore. This is how he should be. This is how he deserves to be. He puts Ranger’s Apprentice down and watches Chase play, and he thinks and thinks until his company arrives.

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

“You’re going to do what it told you to, right? You’re going to stay upstairs like good boy? Or should it tie you down again?”

“Anti, it’s I. What I told you to do. And yes, I am. I’m not interested in meeting anything that even slightly resembles how you were when I first met you.”

Anti laughs. “Anti scary to Chase.”

“You literally tormented me, don’t even joke.”

Anti hums the lullaby he used to scare Chase with. Chase hisses and shoves at him, shaking his head. Anti laughs.

“Okay, okay! Silly puppy. But really. Be good, okay? Stay upstairs.”

“I will.”

“He promises?”

“I promise,” says Chase, touching Anti’s arm for a second.

He’s a touchy-feely little human. Some of the men don’t like to touch each other unless they’re fighting or they have to, but Chase has always liked to touch. He will put his hands on your shoulder or your hand even if he’s only just met you. If he knows you well, he will slouch over you like a blanket or rest against you at random or sometimes just slide his fingers over and graze across your arm or your hip or your back as he passes. Always nice about it, though. Nice, yeah. It is nice.

“But you trust these guys, right, Anti?”

Anti laughs aloud. “Trust them? How stupid I would have to be! If you hear us start to kill each other, just get under the blankets and be quiet. I promise I’ll win, okay?”

He gives Chase a beaming smile.

Chase covers his face and groans into his hands.

#anon #human sacrifice tw #child death mention #disclaimer: anti shoving chase around is manipulative and abusive #favored puppet au #i live for the soft moments in this wacky au haha #bee writes

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

Text

No Idiots Were Harmed in the Making of His Reality

(AO3) (First) (Epilogue)

Summary: The gang goes to an unnamed popular fast food joint after Pico commits mass murder in the name of protecting his duo of idiots. And this is the thanks he gets.

Or: An unfortunate fast food employee gets the misfortune of meeting the trio in their finest hour.

Word Count: 2127

////

There’s only so much a job description can prepare one for. For instance: making burgers, serving customers, taking orders, so on and so forth. That’s what this minimum wage job suggested she would be doing. But it didn’t come with the fine print. It didn’t tell her that she’d be making burgers, sandwiches, chicken nuggets, fries, so on and so forth under pressure as customers ranged from dead-inside but patient patrons to Karen levels of impatient and entitled. There’s caveats, little sidebars, unmentioned stressors that go overlooked because her job is solely to serve the people shitty, shitty burgers.

And it barely even helps her pay rent. The things she’s seen on the job only serves to make her wonder how long it’ll take for her to become either bitter and jaded or completely desensitized by the bullshit this hellish existence can throw at her. Maybe it’ll be a mix of both.

The door opens and swings shut with a heavy, muted thud. Cashier Girl looks up, already exhausted two hours into her shift as she catches sight of the next batch of cus-

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, they look like trouble.

A tall, bubbly young lady in a figure hugging dress smiles sweetly in that, “I’m going to try really hard not to create problems on purpose for you”, sort of way, which happens to be Cashier Girl’s favorite kind of customer. Granted, this girl looks nothing like trouble. She looks like the exact opposite of trouble. But the two men she has in tow makes Cashier Girl think twice about lowering her guard around the pretty girl.

Standing next to her is some dude with cyan-colored hair, a red cap turned backwards in a very dudebro kind of way. He dresses sloppily, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on whatever happened to be in reach, which also just so happened to be the same clothes he wore the day before. His clearly white shirt is stained with something… she hopes is nothing but the results of him being a messy eater. Or maybe he got into a knife fight and won? That has to be the answer for the mysterious, rusty stains and splatters on the right side of his shirt.

However, the one who really sets off her anxiety radar is the taller young man standing next to the cyan shortie. The guy is covered in blood. Not only that, but she’s pretty sure he’s toting at least two guns on his person. And to top it off, he’s wearing a sweater vest and a turtleneck in this kind of weather! Granted, it is a bit chilly, but that level of layering just feels like overkill. He glowers with his arms folded over his chest, clearly hating everything about this experience. Is that dried blood on his face? That is absolutely dried blood all over his face.

Cashier Girl sucks in a deep breath through her teeth and puts on a well practiced smile. “Hello! May I take your order?”

“Yes please! Um,” the lady in red nudges the shorter man with a smile, “what were we going to order again?”

“Beep!”

...Beep?

“Oh! Right! Can we get the 2 for $5 deal?”

She could understand all of that from a single beep?! “Of course! And what would you like?”

“Badoop.” The cyan-haired man nudges the blood covered ginger, and boy, did it look like Little Boy Blue was poking a stick at an angry bear. “Skdeep!”

Having been in the industry for a long, two years has given Cashier Girl the ability to see when someone is about to take a dive into the deep end fairly quickly. The ginger twitches an eye, lips pulled into a snarl as he breathes out a little too deeply. Not quite like a sigh, but like a bull about to charge headfirst into a china shop on purpose. He sucks in a harsh breath through gritted teeth and hunches his shoulders up. Oh wow, he’s really restraining himself.

“Just get me…” And of course Probably a Murderer understood everything Little Boy Blue said. “The nugs and burg.”

With the way he’s restraining himself, she wants to believe that he once worked in the same industry as her. No wonder he’s a murderer. Good for him, good for him. Doing what the rest of them can’t do.

“Alright! And is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Hmm.” Pretty Miss Sunshine looks over to Little Boy Blue who shakes his head before turning back to face Cashier Girl. “I think that’s it!”

“Alright, your total comes to $5.40.”

“Beep!” Little Boy Blue pipes up excitedly and starts digging around in, what she assumes is, his back pocket. The short man pulls out a crumpled, moist-looking five dollar bill. He straightens it out, and Cashier Girl swears that a good quarter of the bill is stained with blood. Probably a Murderer must have noticed the blood too, because he suddenly stiffens and glares at Little Boy Blue.

“...Boyfriend.” Oh shit, are they dating? Is Miss Sunshine just a lady friend of theirs? “Isn’t that the fuckin’ money I lent to you a couple weeks back?”

Oh damn. Cashier Girl looks between Blue and Murderer, Blue either oblivious to Murderer’s growing rage or too wildly confident that the bloodstained ginger won’t actually hurt him. As interesting as the tension may be, she still needs the forty cents to complete their order.

“Sir-”

“Ba beep!” Boy Blue nods vigorously, but she knows it’s not towards her. Murderer lets out a long, aggrieved sigh as he massages his temples.

“So. You’re tellin’ me.” He points to the money on the counter and back at Boy Blue. “You spent… how long at my apartment? Botherin’ me for some extra cash for food, refusin’ to leave for a good few hours, and then completely forgettin’ about gettin' the fuckin’ food you were supposed to get? After I gave you the goddamn money?”

“Oh, I remember that day!” Pretty Miss Sunshine speaks up a little too cheerily given the mood. “We were supposed to get some Chinese takeout, so Boyfriend disappeared for a bit to ask you for some extra money since he was short some.” Wait, are they all dating each other? What the hell? “But Boyfriend came back looking all happy and without any food, and when I asked where the food was, he said he totally forgot! We ended up just using Daddy’s credit card since I remembered I still had it, so we still got food in the end.” Miss Sunshine beams brightly at the flabbergasted Murderer. “You don’t need to worry about that!”

“That’s not what I was pissed about!” For a yell worthy statement, Murderer does an awfully good job at keeping his voice reasonably leveled in this shitty fast food restaurant. “And you had a credit card this entire time?! Why do you fucks keep comin’ over to my place to ask for cash?!”

“Ohhh, well, Daddy took it back after he found out I still had it. But now I’m borrowing from Mommy instead-”

“Oh, so you just have another credit card you could be usin’ instead of my money-”

“Excuse me,” Cashier Girl says as politely as possible, seeing how Murderer’s hand is twitching over one of his guns, “but you still haven’t paid the full amount.”

“Boop!” Boy Blue quickly begins to dig through his pockets, his confident smirk slowly morphing into a stricken grimace as his movements grow more frantic. “Sk-skido, bap de doop-”

“Do not fuckin’ tell me you do not have forty fuckin’ cents.”

Ohhhh shit. Cashier Girl feels torn between wanting to see Murderer fucking snap because man, they really are just running his patience into the GROUND, and wanting her goddamn forty cents so that she can move on with these customers. Murderer’s face turns a bright shade of red as he inhales a deep breath through his nostrils and breathes out heavily through gritted teeth once more, the process repeating a few times before he reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a ratty wallet that’s literally being held together with duct tape. Quietly, they all watch as he shakes some coins out and carefully counts out forty cents exactly.

“There,” he says softly in that tone she recognizes from parents who are this close to losing their absolute shit towards their children, “five fucking dollars and forty cents.”

Cashier Girl looks up and sees Miss Sunshine finally starting to sweat just a bit. Still, she keeps up her cheerful demeanor as she addresses Cashier Girl. “I think we’re good now, right?”

“Uh, yes!” She takes the money and tries to get a read on Murderer to see if this shift will be her last one, but he’s got his arms crossed as he stares directly ahead. The stony expression can only spell doom for the two standing next to him. “Your number is 69,” haha nice, “and your order will be out shortly!”

“Babeep! Pi-!” Blue probably tries to make the same comment that Cashier Girl internally made to Murderer, but he’s quickly shut down by the dark glare Murderer shoots down. He quickly laughs nervously and clears his throat, rubbing his arm as he looks away sheepishly. “H-hm… bop.” Blue takes the receipt and nods his thanks, going over to stand by one of the dividers with Miss Sunshine in tow. Murderer, however, remains where he stands, now making uncomfortable eye-contact with her. Anger still rolls off of him in waves, but she’s starting to wonder if being angry is just his default.

“Oi,” he begins, and she quickly glances behind him to see if there are any other customers behind him. None. She’s not sure if she’s disappointed or a bit glad that there’s no one standing behind him. “Honest opinion - you think this joint is a good enough reward for savin’ their asses?”

Oh boy. Cashier Girl has no idea what he means by “savin’ their asses”, but if he means it literally then… She sucks in a breath through her teeth and tries not to grimace. He grunts in response and squeezes his eyes shut with a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, thought so. Really shouldn’t have taken them at their word when they said, ‘their treat’. Ain’t nothin’ been their treat so far.”

Oof. That’s right. That five was originally his that Boy Blue was supposed to pay back, and the forty cents were definitely his. The guy basically treated himself by force. They both share a silent look before he sighs heavily. As much as she’d kind of like to hear more of this dude’s story and why he’s even friends (datemates? They did call Little Boy Blue, “Boyfriend”, after all) with them, she still has a job to do, and chatting with customers for longer than a certain, nondescript time could get her in trouble. However, much to her relief, the ginger takes the initiative wordlessly and wanders back to the pair, sulking in his blood soaked clothes.

Despite clearly looking like a group of troublemakers (especially Murderer), the three keep to themselves, Blue and Sunshine chatting amongst themselves and nudging Murderer every once in a while in some dangerous gambit to get his attention. Each time they do that, he grips his arms tightly, before stiffly looking over to them as they jabber on about something Cashier Girl can’t hear. All he does is nod and look away, intent on focusing on some spot on the wall and practice what she assumes is deep breathing exercises. For a dude covered in blood, he’s doing a real good job at showing restraint.

Finally, their number is called. Little Boy Blue grabs the bag with glee and nods his thanks to her co-worker before heading back to the group. He practically thrusts the bag into Murderer’s face, and the ginger looks ready to bite his hand off when he catches sight of Blue and Sunshine’s faces. They both look so… genuinely hopeful? Like some shitty nuggets and a burger will be enough to quell his fury. Cashier Girl is about to suck in a sharp breath when his expression softens. He takes the bag and almost manages a smile, before seeing the blood on Little Boy Blue’s clothes and hardening his expression back into an annoyed glower.

They all leave without much fanfare. The door slams behind them as she hums to herself, thinking back to this strange group of people who made less trouble than she expected. A smirk rises to her face before she schools it for the next batch of customers.

At least she knows now why he still hangs out with those friends of his. What a softie.

#friday night funkin #fnf #fnf boyfriend #fnf girlfriend #fnf pico #this was posted to ao3 a looong time ago so it's about time i posted it here #cashier girl my beloveeeeed #a working class hero she is #my friend wanted to see this scene and gosh da r n it #so did i #so here it is #he's so mad

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Rainy Day

Stanley Barber x reader

warnings:

a/n: ahhhh thank you so much!!!! you’re the sweetest, though!! 💕💕💕

prompt: anonymous: “can I request a fluffy Stanley Barber imagine? If not that's fine. I also want you to know that you are an amazing writer and you sound like a really sweet person. have a nice day/night”

You were stuck inside all day due to this giant storm hitting your city. The only reason you weren’t mad or anything was because youbwere stuck with Stan. The house was empty and you were excited to see what today had in store for you.

“I’m hungry.” You whined while seated upside down on his couch in his room. He was doing the same on another piece of furniture.

“Do you want me to make you food?” He asked you as he shifted and got used to Earth’s gravitational pull once more.

“Can you?” You gave him puppy eyes that he couldn’t help but smile at.

“Are you kidding? Of course, I can.” He laid on the floor, next to your head, and gave you a big ol’ kiss. You giggled into it and he pulled away. “What?”

“How did I get so lucky with you, Stanley Barber?” You bat your eyelashes and him and waited for a response.

“Well, you’re my good luck charm, y/n l/n, so ask yourself.” Stan booped your nose and crawled to his feet. His hand extended in fromt of you in an effort to help you up. You stood up way to fast and almost fell over. “Easy there, tiger.” He grabbed your sides and pulled you closer, you accidentally started a short makeout session. He pulled away real fast. “Before we get ahead of yourselves, let’s get us some food.” He took your hand amd hummed along to a song stuck in his head. It sounded like a Queen song.

“What does Mrs. Barber have in stock this week?” You said in an awful voice, as your impressions seem to be shameful.

“Well, my dear, that’s a good question. Looks like we have...ramen, macaroni, pasta...” he rustled around the cabinets, “ravioli, and chicken noodle soup!” He listed for you. Your face scrunched up. “No?”

“Got anything that’s not noodles?” You gave him the puppy dog eyes again and he grabbed your cheeks.

“No more puppy dog eyes, okay? I’ll do anything for you without them. You’re wasting your energy.” Stan held his face very close to you and gave you a quick kiss before ducking around you an dinto the frigde. “Chicken nuggets, fries, ice cream, steam-in-bag carrots...”

“All good options, yes, yes.” You stroked your chin as if you were thinking, but jumped as a deafening crack of thunder cued.

“Woah, woah, woah. Are you okay?” Stanley gave you a bone-breaking hug. “You go sit on the couch and find something to watch. I’ll throw all these in their heating devices and sit with you. Want some ice cream?”

“As long as you don’t put it in a ‘heating device,’ silly.” You tickled his side, which made him squirm, then walked backwards into the living room. He came back with a bowl of ice cream and grabbed a blanket for you to cover yourself with.

“Thank you, hot stuff.” You looked upwards and awaited your kiss from him, which he delivered ever-so-delightful peck. Then crawled onto your lap and waited for you to brush your fingers through his hair. That was one of his weaknesses, he couldn’t get enough of you running your fingers around his scalp. Those are his words.

“I love you so much.” He whispered as he stared at the TV.

“I have to know how much so I can top that.” You joked.

“Now I can never give up my secrets!” He protested. You moved your hands to his sides and tickled him as he squirmed.

“Remember this next time you’re keeping secrets!” His screams and laughs echoed through the empty house, until his mom walked in soaked.

“Mom, the roads are closed?” Stan’s eyebrows scrunched.

“Never stopped me. Oh, you’re making food. I’ll just be in my room. When the timer beeps, I’ll be back.” Mrs. Barber left the room and you and Stan exchanged looks and resumed your fit of giggles.

#stanley barber imagine #stanley barber x reader #stanley barber #ianowt imagine #ianowt x reader #ianowt #i am not okay with this x reader #i am not okay with this imagine #i am not okay with this

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whump-princess · 4 years

Note

Do you have any whump prompts with a robot whumpee? I really need ideas

Sure, hope this helps! (I have a lot lol) beep boop

Whumper Dialogue prompts

“I’ll pull you apart piece by piece and use you for scraps.”

“You're a thing. An object. An appliance.”

“A toy has no business thinking for themselves.”

“I’ll rip out your voice box, see if you talk back then.”

“Funny, you act like you’re a real person.”

Prompts

The whumper belittling them, making them question whether they are a person with relevant feelings, if they are acting for themselves or programmed to act that way. Making them feel that they are just a toy or an object.

Rebooting them, clearing their memory, reverting them back to their basic programming. Everything they learned, everything that makes them them is wiped clean. (But hopefully human/ caregiver/ creator has a backup hard drive with their memory or they're backed up to the cloud.)

Tampering with their hard drive and memory. Erasing some memories (making them forget caregiver? hmmm) and planting false memories, (especially if it's bad things about their caregiver) reading their memories, everything they felt and thought is no longer private to them, they no have longer own their memories and experiences. All their secrets exposed. And that vital information that they were never supposed to tell anyone, now whumper knows everything. All of their weaknesses and fears and caregivers too

Ripping or sawing off their limbs. Waking up and having no limbs.

Ooo robot fights?! Getting damaged in a fight

Being electrocuted and it messes up their entire system, fries their circuits, data on their hard drive all wiggy.

Whumper programming them to act a certain way, conscious but they can't control their actions.

Whumper uses a remote to control them although they are still conscious and aware of what they are doing.

The constant threat of being refurbished if they do something wrong.

They want to fight whumper so they can help their human who is being hurt, but they are programmed to never ever hurt any human, there's not much they can do to help caregiver… how useless they must feel.

Being junked and replaced by newer models of robots.

AI-Whumpee is left in a warehouse or dumped out in the trash in an ally and forgotten. They are found by a new caregiver, who just so happens to be a robotic engineer. They take them in and spruce them up and become companions.

Caregivers can't find the right parts to fix whumpee since they are an older model, many if their parts are no longer made or sold, and all those old part being sold on eBay are so expensive!

Little whumpee excited about their new upgrades!

Their skin being ripped or burned off. (A really fancy AI could have some kind of rubber skin.)

Caregiver becoming so frustrated when they can't figure out how to fix them, AI-whumpee feels as though they are a burden.

Whumpee accidently breaks themselves somehow, maybe they fall and they know that something inside of them has come undone, they try to hide if from their caregiver because they feel as though they might be mad at them for breaking themselves, that they would be imposing, maybe they know it's something expensive that needs repair. Caregiver only finds out when whumpee starts to malfunction.

Trying to repair themselves and only making things worse.

Water damage, accidental or intentional by the whumper.

Overheating or getting too cold when their temperature regulation system is broken.

All kinds of malfunctions! Stuttering, making strange, uncontrollable movements, freezing up when something is broken.

Rusting, Loose bolts and faulty circuits, dents, fried circuit boards.

Low battery. Not having any way to charge themselves and they don't have enough power to get back home. “Your bot can't protect you forever. Their battery is low, isn't it?” Whumper taunts.

Whumper ripping out their circuits and wires.

They need repairs and the only one who knows how to fix them isn’t around

Repairs or upgrades could be painful.

Even though they aren't human, they feel maybe humiliation when they are stripped down, examined and pried open by the whumper.

And of course AI’s being used as slaves.

Taken to junk yards and crushed, or even just the threat of ending up at one.

AI-whumpee protecting their human caregiver because “You can put me back together, I can be fixed, you can’t.” 🥺

Taking a bullet for caretaker, it tears through them ripping apart their mother board, they fall to their knees, their eyes go blank as they shut down.

An AI being cloned would make them feel like they aren't unique, just something that can be copied. Maybe even their personality is cloned as well. Their replacement.

Creator and AI-whumpee are taken by whumper who wants to know the secret to creating real AI that can feel human emotions.

AI-whumpee who is created to resemble someone else. But they know they could never really be them. Do they act on their own or are they programmed to be like this person? They sound and look just like them…

AI/ robot Whumper

AI-whumpee going berserk, turning on caretaker for some reason and caregiver has to force them to shut down.

The AI whumpee who hates humans because “they think they are so much better than us” and enjoys torturing them.

Robot Whumpee is created to serve Whumper as their tool of destruction

AI/Robot Is the caretaker

AI-caregivers or nurse robots who are equipped with all the necessary equipment and knowledge to care for any kind of injury.

The AI-caregiver who knows exactly how to comfort their whumpee, hug them and heat them up, play their favorite songs.

AI-caregivers who're usually so sweet and caring but when their human has been taken and tortured they bust in to save them and just go super badass! (like they got some cool ass guns and human is like “I DIDN'T GIVE YOU THOSE???” And AI is like “oh yeah I got some upgrades while you were away.”)

A bit NSFW ⚠️ 18+

Robot whumpee was specifically created to be used as a sex toy, it’s all in their programming. Maybe deep down they wish they could be more that just a sex slave

#robot whumpee #robot whump #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump prompt #whump blog #whump prompts #whumpblr #whumplr #whump scenario #whump tropes #whump trope #whump story #whump stuff

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edgy-ella · 4 years

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Super Smash Bros critical hit quotes

To contribute to the recent efforts to turn Smash Bros into Fire Emblem with Nintendo All Stars, I thought it would be cool/funny to add critical hit quotes to Smash Bros characters. Maybe they could say these whenever they used their final smashes (some of them already do lmao). Or, if we ever do get a tactics RPG with Nintendo characters which would be THE DREAM, Nintendo could use these. Some of these were really easy, others were really hard. I bet you can guess which ones.

Also, for characters who communicate with singular noises/grunts, I’ve added a translation of what they’re actually saying.

Mario:

“Lets-a go!”

“Mario time!”

“Mama Mia!”

“Wahoo!”

Donkey Kong:

“Banana slamma!”

“DK! Donkey Kong!”

“You’re an absolute zero!”

“Here I come!”

Link:

“My courage will prevail!”

“This is just between you and me.”

“…Now!”

“I’m dangerous, you know.”

Samus:

“For true peace!”

“You’ve done well.”

“Time to pay up!”

“Mission complete.”

Dark Samus:

“I will corrupt you.”

“The thrill of battle.”

“Touch me. I dare you.”

“Dead on arrival!”

Yoshi:

“Yoshi!” (Peace!)

“Hm hm, hup!” (I’m finished with you!)

“Yoshi yo?” (Fried or scrambled?)

“Yo yo yo!” (Don’t be such a baby!)

Kirby:

“Haiii!” (Hello!)

“Poyo poyo!” (Thanks for playing with me!)

“Uwaaah!” (Hey, that hurt!)

“Hiyaaa!”

Fox:

“Here I come!”

“Better luck next time.”

“It’s go time!”

“Mission complete.”

Pikachu:

“Pika pika!” (Bye bye!)

“Piii, pikachu?” (Oh, you want some more?)

“Chu, pika pi!” (I’m electrifying!)

“Pika pi pi!” (Sparks are flying!)

Luigi:

“Let’s-a go…”

“Go, green!”

“Bang, bang!”

“ACHOOO!”

Captain Falcon:

“Come on!”

“Show me your moves!”

“I’m number one!”

“Guess I’ll have to show off!”

Ness:

“Say fuzzy pickles!”

“Batter up!”

“You stink!”

“Does it hurt yet?”

Jigglypuff:

“Puff puff…” (I’m getting sleepy…)

“Jigglypuff jiggly jiggly!” (Time for a power ballad!)

“Jiggly, jigglypuff puff?” (Would you like an encore?)

“Jigglypuff puff jiggly!” (Sing with me now!)

Peach:

“Sweet!”

“This is fun!”

“Don’t hit me!”

“Want some cake?”

Daisy:

“Sweet!”

“I got it!”

“I’m the best!”

“Hi, I’m Daisy!”

Bowser:

“Bowser time!”

“I’m oughta rip your stuffing out!”

“Even scarier up close, huh?”

“Bwahahaha!”

Ice Climbers:

“Knock ‘em out!”

“Double trouble!”

“You’re wobbling!”

“Catch and release!”

Sheik:

“Time is cruel.”

“For my people!”

“Silence.”

“We will meet again.”

Zelda:

“Victory is a step away!”

“For my people!”

“I will not yield!”

“It would be wise to stand down.”

Dr. Mario:

“You are terminally ill.”

“The doctor will see you now.”

“I diagnose you with defeat!”

“Clear!”

Pichu:

“Pichu pi pi…” (This is exhausting…)

“Pichu pichu!” (My time to shine!)

“Chu, pichu pi!” (I’m electrifying!)

“Pi pichu chu!” (You’re such a baby!)

Falco:

“Had enough yet?”

“Gotta jet!”

“Quit moving around!”

“I’ll take you down with one shot!”

Marth:

“Eyes on me!”

“This is it!”

“Forgive me!”

“Shine, Falchion!”

Lucina:

“Time to change fate!”

“You will not stop me!”

“Hope will never die!”

“Our bonds give me strength!”

Young Link:

“My courage will prevail!”

“No hard feelings.”

“I’ll show you a terrible fate!”

“Hey, you! Listen up!”

Ganondorf:

“Pathetic little fool!”

“Your place is beneath me!”

“I am your demise!”

“Behold my power!”

Mewtwo:

“Do not defy me.”

“Pathetic.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Your thoughts betray you.”

Roy:

“I won’t lose!”

“By my blade!”

“For those I must protect!”

“My flame burns bright!”

Chrom:

“Anything can change!”

“Now I’m mad!”

“I will not fail!”

“Our bonds give me strength!”

Mr. Game & Watch:

“RING!” (NINE!)

“Beep beep bop beep.” (I am beyond your comprehension)

“Breep BOP!” (Now DIE!)

“Boop boop beep bop.” (The time has come!)

Meta Knight:

“Know my power!”

“Behold!”

“Come meet your doom!”

“You will not escape!”

Pit:

“You’re finished!”

“Bye now!”

“It’s game over for you!”

“Say your prayers!”

Dark Pit:

“Goodbye!”

“It’s time!”

“Game over.”

“Nothing personal.”

Zero Suit Samus:

“Be still.”

“You’re mine.”

“I object!”

“Stunning, isn’t it?”

Wario:

“I’m-a gonna win!”

“Stinker!”

“You smell that?”

“WAHAHAHA!”

Snake:

“It’s showtime.”

“War has changed.”

“I won’t shed tears for you.”

“Be quiet.”

Ike:

“Prepare yourself.”

“No holding back!”

“Amateur.”

“Out of my way!”

Pokémon Trainer:

“It’s super effective!”

“A critical hit!”

“Go get ‘em!”

“We’re a top percentage team!”

Diddy Kong:

“You’re outta here!”

“I’m one tough Kong!”

“Here’s my chance!”

“Hoo hah!”

Lucas:

“Don’t back down now…”

“I’m sorry!”

“You must be tired.”

“I can endure this!”

Sonic:

“Now I’ll show you!”

“I’ll always keep on running!”

“Do you know who I am?”

“You’re too slow!”

King Dedede:

“You ready to get clobbered?”

“I’ll kick you to the curb!”

“Bow before my majesty!”

“I am D-D-Devious!”

Olimar:

“You were a fine research specimen.”

“Courage, Olimar!”

“I must survive!”

“Carry, fight, multiply!”

Lucario:

“The aura is with me!”

“I can smell your fear!”

“You can’t hide from me!”

“That was your last mistake.”

R.O.B.:

“Now terminating.”

“Initiating critical attack.”

“ERROR: Life not found.”

“I am Robotic Obliterating Buddy.”

Toon Link:

“My courage will prevail!”

“You want a piece of me?”

“Let’s get dangerous!”

“Do you hear the wind blowing?”

Wolf:

“What’s the matter, scared?”

“Playtime’s over.”

“You’re good, but I’m better.”

“Can’t let you do that!”

Villager:

“Now, scram!”

“Time to get buried!”

“This is gonna hurt!”

“Who’s the mighty one now?”

Mega Man:

“Leave it to me!”

“I’ll make you pay!”

“This is for the greater good!”

“You must be stopped!”

Wii Fit Trainer:

“Feel the burn!”

“Let’s get fired up!”

“You’re off balance!”

“No pain, no gain!”

Rosalina:

“I’ll put you to sleep.”

“Children, avert your eyes!”

“Let us begin!”

“Away with you!”

Little Mac:

“Don’t underestimate me!”

“I’m gonna punch you out!”

“This one’s for the Bronx!”

“Dance like a fly, bite like a mosquito!”

Greninja:

“Gre nin.” (Silent takedown.)

“Ja, Greninja!” (Now, you must die!)

“Gre, ninja gre…” (Just as the flow of the ocean…)

“Gre JAJAJAJA!” (Hiyayayaya!)

Palutena:

“You shall be purified.”

“Time for some divine intervention!”

“I won’t hold back!”

“Say your prayers!”

Pac-Man:

“Get ready!”

“Let’s put a smile on that face!”

“Do you have a fevor?”

“Wakka wakka wakka wakka.”

Robin:

“Time to tip the scales!”

“Checkmate!”

“I have a plan!”

“Our bonds give me strength!”

Shulk:

“This is the Monado’s power!”

“I can change the future!”

“Looks like I don’t have a choice!”

“I’m really feeling it!”

Bowser Jr.:

“I won’t quit!”

“Are you watching, Dad?”

“You need some roughing up!”

“Hope you’re ready!”

Duck Hunt:

“Heheheheh~”

“Grrr…”

“AWOOOO!”

“Ruff, ruff!” (I’ll bite your ankles off!)

Ryu:

“I will finish this.”

“Now’s my chance!”

“Gotcha!”

“I’m not finished yet!”

Ken:

“You’re going down!”

“Get serious!”

“Gotcha!”

“Open your eyes!”

Cloud:

“No hard feelings.”

“Your luck’s run out.”

“I’m breaking my limits!”

“Not interested.”

Corrin:

“This ends here!”

“I make my own fate!”

“I won’t surrender!”

“Open the way, please!”

Bayonetta:

“Let’s dance, boys!”

“New ‘do, dead you!”

“You’ve been naughty!”

“Flock off!”

Inkling:

“Woomy!” (Booyah!)

“Ngyes!” (Aww yeah!)

“Wo squalimey!” (Come on, this way!)

“Say fwess!” (Stay fresh!)

Ridley:

“You’re about to die!”

“I make a big impression!”

“Start screaming.”

“You’ll make for a good snack.”

Simon:

“My path is clear!”

“On my honor as a Belmont!”

“I vanquish the darkness!”

“I offer only defeat.”

Richter:

“You don’t belong in this world!”

“Begone, monster!”

“I vanquish the darkness!”

“Farewell.”

King K. Rool:

“I’ve had enough of this!”

“Nothing can stop me!”

“You’re all doomed!”

“Any last requests?”

Isabelle:

“My apologies!”

“Now you’ve done it!”

“I’m gonna go Isaballistic on you!”

“Will that be all?”

Incineroar:

“Grahaha!”

“Cineroar!” (I’m gonna put on a show!)

“Incin!” (Oh, yeah!)

“Incineroar, cin?” (You want an autograph?)

Piranha Plant:

“Plant gang!”

“You see these pearly whites?”

“For Lord Bowser!”

“I’m about to head out.”

Joker:

“The show’s over.”

“You never saw it coming!”

“I’m going to ravage you!”

“Time to steal your heart!”

Hero:

“But I must!”

“Have you wet your knickers?”

“My turn!”

“Time to get critical!”

“HOES MAD”

Banjo and Kazooie:

Banjo: “I’m sorry!”

Banjo: “Out of the way, please!”

Kazooie: “You can shove it!”

Kazooie: “Get bent, nerd!”

Both: “We’re raring to go!”

Terry:

“Are you okay?”

“Hey, c’mon!”

“Bingo!”

“Take it easy!”

Byleth:

“Here is something to believe in!”

“Allow me to demonstrate!”

“Let this be a lesson!”

“No hesitation!”

Bonus:

Sans:

“You’re gonna have a bad time.”

“Get dunked on!”

“This’ll hurt a skele-ton!”

“Sorry about this, pal…”

Cuphead:

“You’re up!”

“Don’t mess with me!”

“Ready for a walloping?”

“Oh, it’s on!”

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lunasaturnine · 3 years

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I just took a few days off because I was so tired and in such a bad mood on Tuesday.

I thought it was just burnout...and it probably was burnout. That’s what I told my wednesday folks. But also it was the prelude to few days of migrainey shit.

Honestly... those few days which I spent almost completely sober (except one or two 1/2 cafs)...were so good.

So many disadvantages and advantages to my current career. I’m looking at the advantages right now like, holy shit. It’s mine, it’s completely mine, I say how it goes.

Here’s how I arranged it. From Jan 1 to May 1 I call a “term” and I’m having them pay $125/mo, $150/mo, or $175/mo (depending on their lesson length) for 14 lessons. There are 17 weeks. So, I get three weeks off in there somewhere, at my discretion.

Beep boop boop!

It’s really good because makeup lessons kinda suck. Not if a student cancels, you just shove em in the schedule somewhere. But if I’m sick Weds Thurs and Fri, when I have 13 lessons, then in the next two weeks I have to find 13 empty slots and cram students into them, which will make me very unhealthy and miserable.

This way it’s just relaxing.

What I really dream of is three weeks on, one week off. I think that’s something I can grow towards, too. It’s not totally unheard of.

I tell you what I was SO dreading teaching my first lesson again on Monday. But you know what? It was fine. It was good! I had changed. I was calmer. I didn’t have new plans, but I was a new person and I had new perspectives, and I taught the lesson better than I would have before. I got the space I needed to level up.

So one thing I’ve learned (and am ALWAYS learning lunasaturnine) is to relax my structuring impulses a little. I have a very fixated inner accountant who wants everything in triplicate and to check boxes off of lists and all that, and everything else in my personalty resists that lol. So they have to find some kind of compromise It’s so possible. I can be responsible, grown, organized, and not be traumatized by every single tax day. But that will only work if I find the correct limit for that control - find the places to lay off. Then I’ll have the right amount of energy to lean in to the real stuff.

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robotsafari · 3 months

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good fucking lord.

#beep boop you want fries with that #kingdom hearts #ansem #im so tired #the woobification of ansem idfk #i shouldnt be allowed to draw.

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wonderlandselfshipping · 3 years

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Koi’s Ultimate Friendsgiving (Pt 1)

Part: 1/?

Word Count: 632

Summary: Koi attempts to throw a Friendsgiving since she’s never had one before, nor a Thanksgiving so let’s hope this goes ok.

Notes: I hope I wrote the FE3H cast in character @horsescarves @daylightlullabies bc it’s been a hot minute since I played it. Also guess what all the chat names are.

SHSL Dumbass: This is the subtopic for the Friendsgiving event. Please list any allergens /dietary restrictions here.

Lil Cutie Pie: Nothing salty please…

Mum’s Car: Koda is vegetarian and I myself can’t have certain foods mixed together texture wise. I believe we have discussed this before.

Alex Jones’ Worst Nightmare: No frog legs please, kero.

SHSL Dumbass: Wasn’t planning on it. Plus I don’t even know how to cook those.

SHSL Meme Man: I can’t have pork for religious reasons, and Marianne is also vegetarian.

Kronya: I can only eat out Nishiki’s ass and or blood.

SHSL Dumbass: Kron, you were eating the devil’s food cake this morning.

Avocado Lesbian: A lot of us are lactose intolerant.

Roadkill: Yeah, the only ones who aren’t out of the digidestined are Matt, TK, me and Ken. I assume Matt and TK is because they’re french, mine is from being dead and Ken? I have no fucking idea. He has to import cheese from America since no one here can eat it lol.

Oreng: Can i bring wine for the adults. Gray’s family has a shit ton of it and need to get rid of it before the winter.

SHSL Dumbass: @/Adults your verdict?

Twiggy: Maybe some not bird protein dishes? Feels kinda cannibalistic to me.

SHSL Meme Man: I got u twigs, I’m bringing some homemade Almyran dishes.

SHSL Bone Breaker: I can ask my mom if she can help me make a giant pot of Katsudon!

SHSL Dumbass: Yes. Also please tell her I love her. Like mother/daughter way.

Dad A: Yes Alm, you can bring wine

SHSL Cheese Goblin: Wait is no one going to mention that Claude’s religious even though he’s shown no interest in Sothis whatsoever?

SHSL Meme Man: It’s more so that I don’t understand having blind faith in an Avocado gremlin like some people do. You can have religion just don’t make it your entire belief without looking at the facts. Ahem *ANGIE* Ahem.

SHSL Meme Man: The closest I can think of to a Koi equivalent is being Jewish?

SHSL Bone Breaker: Boy i have some bad news for you. Katsudon is fried Pork Cutlet.

SHSL Meme Man: I understand. I’ll send some flowers to your mom as a “hey, I’m sorry I can’t eat your cooking.”

SHSL Exploding Pomeranian: Hey, this’ll be better than the old hag’s Thanksgiving that’s for sure. For one, I won’t be hit. And for 2, I can cook the damn thing in peace.

SHSL Dumbass: Who said you were cooking by yourself Kacchan? I was thinking bout doing this potluck style. Whoever wants to contribute can contribute, and I make my dishes.

Roadkill: Just don’t make so much no one can eat anymore?

SHSL Dumbass: *Silently adds every recipe I know into a queue*

Roadkill: koi no.

SHSL Braincell: Koi yes.

Beep Boop: Is there a chance some of us can bring store bought items and not cook? I literally don’t have taste buds.

SHSL Dumbass: Totally fine. If you can cook, then cook! If you can’t, a bag of chips or some cookies will do nicely!

Bip bip enfoire: How many pies can I make?

SHSL Braincell: All of them.

SHSL Dumbass: Also Ibuki, Ryoko, please don’t bring your instruments, I might have a few spares in the garage and or Seteth doesn’t want to invest another stock in Advil.

Roadkill: Why do we have a garage and you don’t even have a license.

SHSL Dumbass: Kaz and Clemont like to work on shit in there.

SHSL Bi Disaster: What have you all unleashed? Ferdinand is grabbing the biggest pot in the mess hall so he can make pumpkin soup. We have had enough soup for a life time and you enabled him to make more.

SHSL Disaster: Friendship?

#Koi's Ultimate Friendsgiving Special #Koi actually writes something

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blaze8403 · 4 years

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Wishes Wish In A Bottle - Bottle Series Inspired by the wishing factor and Marriage game Spin the Bottle from the Bottle series like Hope Love and Wish the Wish Diamond and maybe my works outside or Education in Japan like Pankeki not Okane and Like puzzle in Jig saw Waseda will love this one like the wish factor in Trunks through out Dragon Ball Zt and like Jinn on A Ninjitsu Ninjutsu like China and Dragon throne secured and nice THA or TH one not the one theory not phone call like magic or sat come maybe dream works or Magick like Magick311 on Je suis like I wouldn't waste A wish on it of Valuable lesson of conserving one's wishes also especially if what is too be is in his own power to fulfil do so what's not for A wishes granted but wasted wish entirely like wish for wish granted for not wasting a wish for wishing is an important factor on earth like love hope and the Langauge of Whopping 59.91 carat Wish Diamond like Maybe just An Illuminati Diamond Hawkins Diamond or Square may be in A Circle like wishes in A Bottle and Giving it A spell or like Magick in the water casted message where the wish message float free found or unfound sunken Treasure like A sword or survived words underwater not under wear on a over and under on A Wishing Point Agreement like A song on the yes of play list if it be like Wishing or Fishing not Fish maybe Fishing Point At Wishing Point not Wagner's Point and Wish Point Mall but Hawkins Wager and Wagner is Wishing Point Maryland Hawkins Point to Hawkins Bay Cave and Cove maybe Lake But yes HTM like HTMail factor not face book koob on A wish like Like Yoko Koyo at Wishing Point Tsugukokoya Fried Chicken In the Penthouse Citgo like I know 5 C3I9T20G7O6 Not BP but yes Boop not Beep likely Jeep or Lee and spell up like 7up and G up its not G unit but United Nations Salutations infect the entirety of the Nations like Nigoogaes DA or District Attorney on the USDA and Murda8403 HDzeroC And works in and out side of US 311USA just USD maybe Blaze Tumblr or Pilot ID or BIV.24.295.B4 and Pythagorean chess moves and loves on Lovieys and movies discussion in Theories and Lessons plans on the English Langauge A wish another I wouldn't waste A wish on English language second or primary Langauge Through out the Entire Kingdom think the Holy Heavenly Imperial Majesty and King could not speak in English but you Knew I could speak in English maybe not much Chinese or Japanese but I teach my self like Shen not Shin but all did day was some lesson plan writing and went into China town and said Shen it was like now spell Shen spell hes hens she and Shin to like may be Kenshin and Shingen debate Shen Kami maybe now over Ikigami Shinigami like spell Kami and who is making love when it this much gathered hatred being created on earth things A God would say like maybe A wish for steak or wish for A Car A yacht A wish for Romance Wish for be it when wishing you must consider what to wish for how to ponder so like Wishing to know how or of Knowledge Power Immortality The wish has power but the judgement of who you is justly shown in your character of honestly what you wish for and how your wish for it Even Hirohito the Showa would Agree maybe A wish True like Cloning Hirohito 2021 Hirohito 2021 My Holy Heavenly Imperial Advisory that wish to bring True like what the incubation Time of Age 36 37 OLD adult Clone No we all wanted to some wished for it and apparently we all agreed It would Be Terry to Clone Hirohito I use Necromancy and he be complete with his soul and Its 2021 no dude Hirohito Wishes me Terry Booper Grow up and I was 3 or 5 and I am 36 like If it was For you or Norihito A wish come True By this Age Booper or Jooper (=B=2 spirit or J=10=1) Oscar Oscar papa echo Romeo Person or Persia and Operations not for rep maybe Repso or Pepsi Co Coca Cola not Ai or Ai like Aisuru and wishing to whom for or on behalf of who or wishing because well an I am free to wish to to and granted be given unto you be it Glass And Fanta on don't you wanta maybe Fantasy like A final flash and Virgo be gone though I wish wish for

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queen-scribbles · 5 years

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Tension

Oh boy, full-on, tropey goodness sparring fic for Ris ft one (1) snarky scoundrel.

---

Kayris ran out of things to do before Telos was a full day behind them. She still tried; fixed what she could on the Ebon Hawk without getting in Bao Dur’s way, tinkered some with T3, lost several games of pazaak to Atton... It wasn’t until her absolutely abysmal attempt at meditating with Kreia she finally conceded it wasn’t so much she was out of things to do as it was out of things she could focus on. Apparently, her irritation at the recording T3 had found in Atris’ archive ran deeper than she’d realized.

She needed to hit something. Now. Before they got to Nar Shaddaa, even. It was the only thing that had a prayer of working out this stress. Even droid tinkering--her favorite hobby and usually a sure bet--couldn’t completely calm her jangling nerves, and she almost fried T3′s motivator in her distraction.

“Sorry, buddy,” she said soothingly as she corrected her mistake and closed the access panel. “Clearly I need to do something else. Shame the blasted ship doesn’t have a sparring room...”

T3 chirped a response to her musing and Kayris smiled.

“I know it’s a smuggler’s ship not a warship,” she said, pushing to her feet and patting the droid on the head. “You’d still think they’d wanna keep their skills sharp.”

T3 boop-beeped something and started rolling toward the cargo bay.

“Really?” Kayris raised an eyebrow as she followed. “How’d I miss that before?” Aside from the ship only being in my possession a grand total of, what, two days...

A low whistle and cascade of beeps answered, echoing off the walls. T3 trundled into the cargo bay and up to one of them far end wall panels. His articulator arm extended, engaged with a port she couldn’t see, and a well-concealed compartment slid open. Inside rested rolled up floor mats and a pair of deactivated training remotes.

Kayris grinned. Wouldn’t be the same as fighting a person, but still gave her something to do. “Very nice. Thanks, T3, this is perfect.”

T3 whistled happily and rolled out of the cargo hold.

It didn’t take long for her to convert the space to a makeshift training room and retrieve her double-bladed sword. “I need the challenge,” she muttered to herself, and activated both remotes on an intermediate level.

They did prove to be a challenge, and she felt their sting several times. More than she should’ve; she wasn’t that rusty. Even the rhythm of combat was proving elusive.

“Good form,” a voice drawled from the doorway as she paused to catch her breath.

Kayris turned and half-smiled at Atton, weapon hanging loose in one hand as she wiped sweat off her face with the other. “Thanks.”

“Y’know,” he began, pushing away from the wall to saunter a couple steps into the room, “if you’re looking to work out tension, an intelligent life form might make a better partner than kriffin’ droids.”

She smirked. “Sounds good. Let me know if you see one.”

Atton narrowed his eyes, expression unsure if she was joking. “You’re in a mood today.”

She grimaced. “Sorry. That was intended as a joke. Especially if you’re offering to help...?”

He nodded, posture relaxing at her confirmation. “Why not? Ship’s on autopilot, not like there’s much else for me to do.”

“Alright, then, tough guy.” Kayris raised a teasing brow. “What were you thinking we’d do?” She shot a significant look at the blaster strapped to his hip.

Atton shook his head and grinned. “Live fire shipboard’s a bad idea, and stun blasts wouldn’t be any fun. I was thinking more melee, anyway. Hitting things, well, me, should help get out all that pent-up tension.”

“No offense, but are you any good at melee?” Kayris asked. She’d only seen him use blasters so far in their brief acquaintance.

“If the point of this is to let you beat the living hell outta something, does it matter if I’m any good?” Atton countered. He smirked. “‘Sides, even if I’m not, it’d be good for you to beat me at something.”

She glowered at him. “I will win a game of pazaak against you someday.”

His eyes gleamed mischievously as he shrugged off his jacket. “Win a set first, Ris. Then you can start talking about winning a game.”

Her glower deepened and Kayris flipped her sword flush with her arm to level one blade at him. “You’re goin’ down now, Rand.”

“Really? Right now?” Atton baited, holding up empty hands. “Thought you Jedi types frowned on attacking unarmed opponents.”

Rather than point out that he wasn’t, technically unarmed with that blaster on his hip, she instead scooped up the force pike she’d left leaning against the wall and tossed it to him. “There. Armed.”

Atton grinned at the clear challenge underlying the words as he caught it. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Kayris made note of several things as they circled; the reflexes behind how easily he’d caught the pike, his comfortable grip on it that spoke to at least some martial experience, the wariness in his stance as he stalked out their path. The Handmaiden’s words about his having Echani training floated through her mind, and she could see elements of that style in his movements.

They couldn’t circle like this forever, and she was curious about a few things, so Kayris gave it a few more steps and then made the first move--an overhand swing Atton blocked easily.

“You open with that a lot,” he said dryly, tone just neutral enough to hide if it was a judgment or an observation, as he pushed back until her blade slid free and then cranked his around toward her shoulder.

“Yes, and?” she countered, twitching her right blade high enough to deflect the blow. “You’ve seen me fight how much?”

“Enough to see the pattern,” Atton grunted, side stepping her next strike and swinging a low slash at her shins.

Kayris backpedaled, then brought her blade around toward his unguarded neck. “Don’t think we’ve left anyone alive to exploit that little quirk.” She gritted her teeth as Atton swiftly brought the pike up to shove her sword away. “Not that it would work if they tried”--she bulled forward, forcing him to sidestep so he didn’t lose his balance--”I’m very good.”

“Oh, really?” The teasing words had barely left his lips when Atton backed into a wall and one blade of Kayris’ sword came to a halt not even two inches from his jaw, only held at bay by whatever instinct had brought the force pike up as he stepped back.

“Yes, really,” Kayris grinned, breathing hard.

Atton rotated the pike slightly and pushed back, his angle forcing her to give ground. “Should I feel sorry for these Jedi Masters when we find them?”

She gave up several steps in rapid succession and saw him teeter for just a moment, but he caught himself before she could exploit his unbalance, and they were back to circling. “Depends on what they have to say. Would you feel sorry for them, even if you should?”

Atton snorted and made a small, experimental strike toward her ribs, backing off quickly when she blocked it. “Does it matter what I think? I’m not the one the exiled for following her conscience.”

“There was more to it than that,” Kayris protested. She tripped over the edge of a mat and rolled out of the way from Atton’s opportunistic jab.

“Like what?” he said skeptically.

“Yes, we needed to do something, and no, I don’t regret following Revan,” she began, swiping at him with each blade in turn even as she regained her feet. “But some of the things we, I, did needed accounting for, and protecting the innocent”--she kicked at his legs, then swung her elbow into his shoulder when he jumped to avoid it--”was only part of my reason for going.”

Atton hit the ground shoulders first and was rolling out of the way before she brought her blade down in follow-through. “Everyone does things for more than one reason,” he countered. He rolled up on one knee and grabbed the lower blade of her sword near the hilt, ignored it digging into his fingers so he could yank her off-balance. “Doesn’t change that at least part of why you got kicked out was for making them look bad, sitting in their ivory tower while the galaxy went to hell around them.” His elbow hit in between her shoulder blades, pushing her toward the floor. “Jedi hate looking bad.”

Kayris turned the momentum into a somersault, biting her lip literally and figuratively in the process. She rolled into the wall and instinctively threw up an elbow. It didn’t connect with anything, but hanging back in anticipation of her reaction kept Atton at bay long enough for her to find her feet.

She’d barely done so, however, before he was in her space, pike held horizontally to pin her against the wall. Sh got her sword in between just in time, the pike’s grip clipping her knuckles in the process.

“You could have mentioned you knew how tricky doublehilts are from experience,” she panted, meeting his gaze with a smirk. Her hunch had been right.

Atton chuckled, breath rushing warm against her cheek. “And show all my cards at the start?” He matched her smirk, eyes locked on hers with a look that made something in her twist. “Even you know that’s not how you play the game Especially if you want to win.”

“Speaking of winning...” Kayris hooked one foot behind his ankle and twisted her sword to make him stumble back. “You really should be sure you have before you let your guard down to gloat.”

She pressed her advantage, and within seconds Atton had hit the floor again, this time with her blade flicked to his throat before he could roll away. He tensed for a heartbeat, clearly contemplating something risky, but relaxed and let go of the force pike.

“You win,” he laughed breathlessly. “Good fight.”

“Not too shabby yourself,” Kayris returned as she lowered her blade. “And it definitely helped.”

“Good to hear.” Atton pushed himself up on his elbows to grin at her. “Always happy to help you relieve tension however I can.”

She rolled her eyes and offered him a hand up. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

It took only slightly more bracing than she’d expecting when he accepted, still grinning. “You do that.” Despite the words, he released her hand very quickly, shaking his as if it stung.

Kayris shot a meaningful look at the blood staining his fingers. “You should probably take care of that.”

Atton shrugged. “Eh, it’s not that bad. And you’re one to talk with this.” He titled her chin up and brushed his thumb over where she’d bitten her lip.

She flicked her gaze up to meet his for a moment before hastily stepping back, self-consciously feeling the swollen skin as she parroted, “It’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head and studied her for a long-frozen second. “So, are you gonna tell me those other reasons you went to fight?”

Kayris smirked coyly. “And show all my cards at the start?”

Atton snorted, which turned into another laugh. “Guess I had that coming.”

She just shrugged in quasi-innocence and held her smirk as they locked eyes, panting breath and the underlying hum of engines the only sound.

And then the Ebon Hawk yawed hard, tossing Atton into the wall and Kayris into him. The only reason they didn’t crack heads was Atton got his hands up in time to catch her biceps and steady her a few inches away.

“Sorry...” she mumbled in tandem with his wry, “You alright?” and suddenly their eyes were locked from much closer together.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat and started to ease out of the space between her and the wall. “I should see what that was.”

“Right,” Kayris nodded, scrambling backwards. “I can, ah, check the hyperdrive.” She crossed her arms tight as he let go.

Atton didn’t look at her as he shrugged his jacket back on. “Good idea. Thing’s finicky enough as it is.” He darted toward the cockpit, and she busied herself cleaning up the sparring mats until his footsteps faded.

When she did head for he hyperdrive as promised, she was stiff with an entirely different kind of tension.

#queens fic #kayris vaithe #atton rand #jedi exile #kotor 2 #kotor2 #i've never been a huge atton fangirl wtf is happening?????

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libralita · 5 years

Text

Broken Part 5

I’M BACK! So schooled was kicking my ass but I’m on summer vacation which means reading and writing about my love, Jumin Han! Hope you enjoy!

“Jumin, I’m starting to lose feeling in my hand.” Joyce said, quietly to Jumin. They were currently in a very nice reception area for a therapist. Jumin had made sure to find one that would keep confidentiality. He even had Joyce drive him so that they could keep this completely private.

They were planning on leaving to visit Joyce’s family but first Jumin needed to do this. So they arranged for an appointment and then they would head out for the road trip.

Now he was currently cutting off circulation to her hand by gripping it so tightly.

“I apologize.” He loosens his grip but is still holding on.

“Mr. Han?” The woman behind the desk said. “Dr. Kim will see you now.”

He immediately tightens up his grip. Joyce gently pats his arm, “don’t worry…” He cleared his throat and stands, making sure that Joyce follows. “Is it okay if my companion comes with me?”

“Of course.” The receptionist said. She lead them to the doctor’s office. They walked into a small room with bookshelves and comfortable chairs.

“Hello, Jumin.” Dr. Kim said, offering a hand.

Jumin waited a beat and then politely took the doctor’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Joyce said, shaking the doctor’s hand.

They sat on the couch together. Jumin kept his death grip on Joyce’s hand. “Alright, how about we start with you telling me about yourself, Jumin.”

Jumin swallowed and cleared his throat, “I am heir to the C&R International Company. I am the Executive Director.”

Dr. Kim nodded, writing it down. “Would you like to go into detail about that?”

“I work with my father.”

“And how is that?”

Jumin sat back slightly, “It is good. I love my father and I want to continue the family business.”

“Are there any problems that arise from that?”

Jumin was quiet for a moment, absently running his finger along Joyce’s hand. “I do not…always approve of my father’s choices.”

“In business?” Dr. Kim asked, writing things down.

“Life choices.”

“Such as…?”

“I love my father so deeply.” Jumin felt the need to repeat. “He just does things that don’t make sense to me. He is involved with women that I can see that are just using him for his money. It will be disastrous for the company.”

Dr. Kim nodded, they talked for a while. Mainly about his father and what was currently going on in his life. Jumin had to be vague about a lot of things going on the RFA. He found the knot in his head loosening and he could see himself coming back to talk more. It was not the same as when he spoke or was even near Joyce but he could see how it would be useful to get all these thoughts out with someone impartial.

Jumin found himself avoiding talking about that night. He would eventually talk about that, but not now. Not yet. That still needed time.

Maybe Dr. Kim could help hold the weight. He thought to himself as he was leaving. He still held onto Joyce’s hand but it was looser.

“How do you feel?” Joyce asked as started her car.

Joyce thought about that question. “Good.” He decided.

“I’m glad.” Joyce said, giving his leg a pat. “Now, we’re off to a road trip.”

Joyce and Jumin stopped by the penthouse to get a bag and then they were off in Joyce’s car. They decided to meet up with Joyce’s parents at a café.

Joyce brought Jumin a coffee and a donut with chocolate and sprinkles while they waited for her parents.

Jumin raised an eyebrow at it. “What’s that?”

“A donut.” She said taking a bite of hers. “It’s dough that’s fried with a gaze and chocolate and sprinkles.”

“That sounds incredibly unhealthy and will not fill you up for this journey. You will more likely be hungry in a short while.”

“Just eat it.”

Jumin tried it. “It’s…very sweet.” He said, continuing to eat it. “For something fried.”

“Do you like it?”

“I don’t really care for sweet things but it’s always good to have new experiences.” He said, taking a drink of his coffee. He noticed Mary and Oliver getting out of their car and waved them over.

“Okay. Breadsticks are a yes. Donuts are a no. Got it.” Joyce said.

Jumin’s hand stopped mid wave as he looked over at Joyce. Was she…keeping track of what he liked and didn’t like. Sure he had been doing the same thing but…his chest warmed that she cared.

“Hey, Jumin.” Oliver said. Jumin quickly put his hand down and looked at Oliver. The older man pointed. “What’s that over there?”

Jumin turned but he did know what Oliver was referring to. “What are you referring to, Mr. Elliot?”

“Oh, keep looking, Jumin.” Mary said. “You’ll find it.”

Jumin did and started to frown. “It’s totally there.” Oliver said and Joyce laughed.

“Stop it, you’re torturing him!”

Jumin turned around to see Oliver eating while Mary was stifling laughter. He looked down and most of his donut was gone. “Was…that a trick? If you wanted some, you could have asked.”

“Yes, but it’s more fun that way.” Mary said, taking a napkin and wiping her husband’s mouth. “It’s nice to see you again, Jumin.”

Jumin felt his face slightly heat up at the trick but he also found himself smiling at their light teasing. “Which one of you is driving?” Oliver asked.

“I am.” Joyce said, “Apparently driving and Jumin don’t mix.”

“The same with Mary and driving.”

“I can drive. I just don’t like to.” She said with an exaggerated sniff then gave her husband a playful smile. “I like being driven around. Makes me feel like a queen.”

“I could lend you my driver.” Jumin offered.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” Mary said, smiling at Jumin. “Let’s hit the road, kids.”

“The club isn’t the best place to find a lover so the bar is where I go” Joyce sang along with the radio as they drove down the road. Jumin couldn’t help but smile at seeing her look so adorable.

Joyce noticed this and sang to him “I’m in love with your body. Every day I’m discovering something brand new. I’m in love with the shape of you.”

This made Jumin blush but laugh. He took out his phone and took a blurry picture of her singing and driving down the highway.

“Jumin! Did you just take a picture of me?!” She squealed, keeping her eyes on the road.

“Yes.”

Joyce laughed continuing to sing along to the radio. “Ooo! I love this song!” Joyce said turning it up when “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons came on. She pretended sang along the Kendrick Lamar part, pretending to a rapper. That was about as “gangster” as she would get.

Jumin was grinning as he got notification that M.C. was online in the RFA chat. He glanced over at Joyce and thought about his earlier meeting with Dr. Kim. The RFA were basically his family. He decided to long on.

M.C.: Hey, Jumin. How’s the road trip?

Jumin: It is going fairly well. We are currently listening to the radio.

Jumin couldn’t help himself, he had to share with the world how cute Joyce looked. He sent the picture. As he did Zen and Yoosung logged on and said hello.

M.C.: Um…what is that?

Jumin: Joyce. Singing along to the radio. She is quite adorable.

Yoosung★: Cute!

Zen: I can’t believe you’re going on road trip right before the party

Zen: AND the hacker problem.

Zen: AND you’re leaving all this work to Jaehee, jerk!

Jumin: It was something that Joyce needed to do. I am honored that she invited me along. I will still be able to help with the party, do my work, and protect M.C.

Zen: Sure, you will.

Yoosung★: I think that’s really nice that you’re going with Joyce!

Jumin: Thank you.

Jumin took a deep breath.

Jumin: Joyce has been really helping me through a lot.

Jumin: I have been having some problems

Jumin: With my father and the arrange marriage, obviously. But other things…

Jumin started typing but he noticed Zen’s response started popping up. Seven had also came into the chat.

Zen: You? Go through a lot???

707: Is this become Jumin’s personal diary now?

Zen: Lol!

M.C.: Oh, c’mon guys. You use this chat as your own diaries, too! Haha

Zen: But what could Jumin possibly be going through with a golden spoon in his mouth?

707: “Dear diary, today Joyce did the cutest thing at 4:32 PM when the weather was partly cloudy.”

Zen: OH MY GOD! I bet that’s what Jumin’s diary looks like. “At 4:33 P.M. I need to get an oil change”

707: “Beep Boop”

Yoosung★: Aren’t you being a little bit mean…

Jumin had stopped typing and watched the chat go. He swallowed and just left the chat.

He hadn’t noticed that the music was turned off. “Jumin…?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He said looking over at Joyce, their eyes met and he tried to force a smile.

Joyce did not buy it for a second. She took his hand and held it. It annoyed her that she had to keep her eyes on the road and couldn’t fully comfort him. “Please tell me.”

Jumin squeezed her hand back. He couldn’t put into words what he was feeling. He went back to the weight metaphor Joyce had said. It felt like he was trying to ask for help to carry it and he got outright rejected.

“I tried to talk to the RFA.” Jumin said, quietly. Watching the road.

“…And it didn’t go well?”

“No. It didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” She said, squeezing his hand. He notice his phone vibrate and he saw a text from Yoosung.

Yoosung★: Jumin, are you okay? Zen and Seven were kind of mean in the chat…and you left without even saying goodbye…

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Joyce asked, still holding his hand. Jumin opened his phone again and went through the chat telling her what had happened. “What the hell?”

Jumin blinked at her. “Language, Joyce.”

“I’m sorry but that just sounds really mean of them.” Joyce said, keeping her eyes on the road and having to let go of Jumin’s hand to keep two hands on the wheel. “I get that they don’t really know what happened but if someone’s trying to open up to you about things their going through you don’t just say “what could you be going through?” and make fun of them!”

Jumin was unsure of how to respond to this. He didn’t know if he’d ever had someone offended on his behalf before.

Joyce took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. “At least Yoosung is asking if you’re okay.”

Jumin finally nodded, “perhaps it would be better to talk to the members individually.”

“That is probably a better idea.” Joyce said, put her hand on his leg. “I’m really proud of you for trying to open up to people and for not closing yourself off.”

Jumin smiled and leaned over, kissing her cheek.

The Elliots and Jumin arrived at their house. Jumin was put into a guest room and Joyce was in her old childhood bedroom. After Jumin finished unpacking he gently knocked on Joyce’s door.

“Come in!”

Jumin went in and was awed. He hadn’t realized how wonderful it would be to see the room that Joyce grew up in. Jumin’s rooms had always been fairly without character. Just needing the essentials that matched.

Joyce’s room was a light shade of purple, along the tops of all four walls was a shelf and on there were trophies, tiaras, and awards for dance competitions. There were two bookshelves that were completely stuffed with well used books.

Jumin’s favorite thing in the room was on the wall in front of a desk was a collage of dozens of photographs.

“Wow…”

“What?” Joyce asked, turning around from her unpacking.

“This room is wonderful.”

“Really?” Joyce asked, amused.

“Yes.” He said, going over to the desk and looking at all the pictures one by one.

Joyce chuckled, “I’m going to go visit my cousin, would you like to stay here and look at the pictures?”

“May I?”

Joyce laughed, “Sure, Jumin.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Joyce had gone over to her aunt and uncle’s home. She knocked on her cousin’s room and walked in, “Nora?”

She found her younger cousin sitting at her computer. Her little cousin had grown so much since last she saw her. She used to have beautiful golden hair and now it was dyed a faded pink. She frowned as she played her game. Probably LOLOL.

“You’re 18 now. Did you get my card?”

“Yeah.” Nora said, shortly. “18 and pregnant.”

Joyce went in and sat on Nora’s bed. “I came to talk to you about that.”

Nora just continued to play her game.

“Nora…”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you about it.”

Joyce frowned. Her little cousin had always looked up to Joyce and they had a wonderful relationship. She was never this cold towards her.

“Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be?”

“You just sound upset.” Joyce said, “I’m worried about you.”

Nora snorted. “Worried enough to bring your boyfriend along.”

“That’s more complicated. There’s a lot of things going on with Jumin. Don’t think me bringing him with me doesn’t mean that I am not taking this visit seriously.” Joyce said, standing up to put her hand on her cousin’s shoulder. “Please don’t shut me out, Eleanor. Tell me what happened.”

“Do you really not know how sex works?”

Joyce frowned and without thinking said, “I know how sex works.”

Nora blushed and glared up at her. “What do you think coming down here is going to do? I’m pregnant. There’s nothing that can be done about it.”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It was out of line.” Joyce said. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. That mom and dad are. So are your parents and brother.”

“I don’t need your help. I just want to be left alone!” She said, turning from Joyce.

Joyce gave her a hurt look and then sighed. “I’m going to go talk to your parents downstairs. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

Nora didn’t reply. Joyce waited for a moment and then left.

Joyce talked to her aunt and uncle about the situation. They said that she was being the same with them. It was just a hard issue for her. A little while later, Joyce went back home. She looked in the guest room but Jumin wasn’t there.

She went to her room and even though she was still sad at how poorly things at went she had to smile at seeing Jumin Han sitting on her floor, reading a beat up paperback in her teenage bedroom.

Jumin looked up at her and Joyce’s smile grew. “Did you get bored of looking at pictures?”

“Absolutely not.” Jumin said, closing the book and putting it back in the exact same some spot it was. “I went through every picture and came to the conclusion that you were perfect from birth.”

Joyce turned bright red immediately at that, “Jumin!”

Jumin chuckled and put his arms around her waist, “It is true. I looked at all your pictures. It was so wonderful to see throughout your life. Then I started to look at those books. I wanted to know what type of books you liked growing up and was pleasantly surprised when I discovered you wrote in them.”

“Yes, I still write in books.”

“Wonderful.” Jumin smiled down at her. “It was like getting to peak into that wonderful mind of yours. You wrote such insightful comments about the content.”

Joyce blushed even harder and hid her face into his chest.

Jumin hummed softly and hugged her close. “How did it go?”

She sighed and rested her chin on his chest. “Not good.” This made him frown and he moved so they were sitting on her bed.

She explained what happened and he gently rubbed her back. “I think that you should give her time. This is probably a difficult situation for her.”

Joyce nodded, “it just hurts because we use to be so close.” She reached over to the wall with pictures and showed him a picture of her and a younger Nora. “She use to be like my little sister and now she’s just so angry at me.”

“She’s not angry at you.” Jumin said, tucking her hair back.

“I know but it feels that way.”

“But it’s not.” Jumin insisted. “It will get better. Knowing that her family supports her will help.”

Joyce smiled at him, “you’re really good at this.”

“At what?”

“Everything.” She said and leaned in to kiss him.

Joyce needed to take a shower and she told Jumin he could work downstairs. He brought his lap top with him and smelt something delicious. He went into the kitchen and saw Oliver making dinner.

“Do you need any help?” Jumin asked, politely.

“No, I’m fine.” Oliver said. “Do you like stir fry?”

“I’ve never had it.”

“First time for everything then.” Oliver said, as Jumin sat down with his lap top and started to work. After a while, Jumin noticed that Mary had come in and started clean the sliding glass doors.

“Mary, that’s fine.”

“It’ll just take a minute.”

“Come try this.” Oliver insisted, fanning the smell to her. She still continued to clean. Oliver went over and just gently massaged her shoulders. That reminded Jumin of when he was stressed out and Joyce had massaged his back.

Jumin felt slightly awkward that he was witnessing an intimate moment but he also couldn’t look away. I want that. I don’t know how to get that but I want what they have with Joyce.

“Jumin, are you alright?” Mary asked, noticing him staring.

I also need help.

“A weight.” He blurted out.

The both frowned at him.

“I’m carrying a weight and Joyce said I needed help carrying it.” Jumin said, swallowed and he couldn’t look at them. This was just going to turn out just like it had with the RFA and—

Jumin felt a hand on his shoulder and Jumin looked up to see Oliver sit next to him. “Alright, let’s see what we can do about this weight.”

He told them. Part way through Joyce had come in after her shoulder and sat next to him. Several times he wondered why on earth he was telling them when he barely knew them. When he thought about stopping someone would give him encouragement to keep on going.

So he did.

And the weight was cut into quarters.

“Jumin…” Jumin woke up, it was barely light outside and he saw Joyce dressed, sitting on his bed. “Good morning.”

He blinked at her. “Good morning…”

“I know you’re busy with work and the RFA but I wanted to show you something before I have to run errands.” She said softly. “Want to go on an adventure?”

Jumin blinked, “Is this really happening…?”

Joyce chuckled, “Get dressed, silly.”

Jumin finished getting dressed and Joyce drove them through the near empty neighborhood. She pulled up to her old dance studio. It was still named “Madame Elliot’s Dance Studio” and still in use but it was much smaller. Joyce still loved the beautiful butterflies painted on the sides of the studio.

“My home away from home.” Joyce said, taking a key out of a small pocket in her sundress. “We had to arrive early so we don’t interfere with the classes.”

Jumin admired the building, “thank you for showing me this.” He said, when he went in, he could imagine a young Joyce and Beth running around in their little tutus. He smiled at the idea. He noticed looking around, she seemed lost in thought. Probably thinking about all the memories she had in this place.

Joyce had went into one of the dance rooms. She slipped off her shoes and looked into the large mirrors.

Jumin went up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s so small.”

“I think you’ve just gotten bigger.”

Joyce nodded, she was blinking back tears as she looked around. After a while she turned to Jumin, “I have another surprise to show you.” She said, taking his hand.

He followed her as they walked through a backdoor. There was a parking lot and chain fence. Joyce opened the fence and there was a small forest. They walked along a path, side by side, holding hands. “It’s a beautiful morning!” Joyce said.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

“Jumin!” She said blushing and then noticed something. She looked at him and raised her finger to her lips. She let go and walked forward a little. She took out a small packet of sugar and held it out. Moments later several butterflies emerged and started fluttering to Joyce. She held out both hands and they started feeding.

She turned to Jumin and grinned at him. “This is why we have the butterflies painted. There are so many around this area!”

Jumin watched in awe and carefully walked towards her. More came and fluttered on her hair. She grinned up at him and she couldn’t be more beautiful.

Suddenly a butterfly landed on top of Jumin’s nose. Joyce’s made a small o in surprise. They stood very still. Well, Joyce was trembling slightly as she tried not to laugh as Jumin went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

Joyce couldn’t help it any longer and the giggles came out, causing many of the butterflies to flutter away, including the nosey one. Jumin also laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah! It was always my favorite place to come to when I was young.” She said, letting the sugar go and hugging him. “They’re so beautiful.” An idea formed into Jumin’s head as he looked at her lovingly. “What’s that look for, Jumin?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” He said, leaning down and kissed her.

“Perhaps you should stay for one more day.” Jumin said. Joyce hadn’t had much luck with their cousin and Jumin had needed to go back to plan for the RFA party. There was clearly something going on. M.C. had been in some sort of danger but now everything would hopefully be okay.

“Jumin, everything will be fine.” Joyce promised, standing on her tip toes and kissed him. She slung her bag over her shoulder. “I have to get ready for the party and I think you’re ready for this.”

He nodded and held her. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more.” Joyce said, giving him a squeeze. After a moment he moved to just hold her hands.

“There will be something waiting for you at your apartment.” Jumin said.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He said, squeezed her hands. Every fiber in his being was longing for her to stay but he knew he needed to do this. “Joyce…” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you.”

Joyce’s face heated up and she squeezed his hands. “I love you, too.”

He let out a shaky breath and then let her go as well. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Jumin.”

Joyce arrived back to her apartment. It was felt strange to be back there. It was too quiet and cold.

She was about to text Jumin that she was home when she saw a large box waiting for her onto of her coffee table.

“Finally!” Beth said, coming into the room. “I’ve been dying to see what that was. Open it!”

Joyce dropped her bag and went over. Carefully she opened it and gasped.

Inside was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. It was long sleeved and light purple at the top but faded to darker. Also at the bottom there butterflies. Dozens of pieces of purple fabric in the shape of butterflies.

“Oh my god.” Joyce and Beth said at the same time.

“Look at those shoes!” Beth said, holding up the matching shoes. “This is amazing!”

“I can’t believe he got me something so beautiful.” Joyce said, holding the dress up. “I won’t be able to stop thanking him.”

Beth wrapped her arm around her friend. “I’m so glad you’re happy, Joy!”

Zen stood at an intersection. It was late at night and he didn’t really know where he was. Was this a dream?

A car came by and he could see two people in the car. He squinted and in the passenger seat he could make out a woman. Was that…M.C.?

He watched as the light turned green and the car went forward. Suddenly there was an ear piercing sound that made Zen cover his ears and fell to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut but eventually had to open them again. The car was completely flipped over. Smashed in on onside by another car.

He gagged when he saw a body slumped forward. He got a good look at her bloodied dress before—

“M.C.!” Zen cried as he sat up in his bed.

He didn’t waste any time in calling her, even though it was the middle of the night.

“Mmm…do any of you have regular sleep schedules?”

“M.C.” Zen said, letting out ragged breaths. “After the RFA party, whatever you do, do not get int a car.”

“What?”

“I had a dream about you. There was a car accident and just don’t get in a car. Okay?”

“Okay, Zen. I won’t. I promise.”

TBC

#Jumin Han #Joyce Elliot #Mystic Messenger #my writing #fan fiction #I'm sure nothing bad will happen :)

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esamastation · 6 years

Text

Beep Boop, 1

R9-B9 comes online with a click and a whir as power suddenly floods in depleted battery banks and power preservation mode automatically deactivates.

The power has been restored into the factory.

Keeping his power outlet coupler attached to the outlet, R9-B9 waits just long enough to have a full unit of power before spinning his head around and quickly scanning the surroundings.

When he'd fallen into power saving mode, the factory had been dark and inactive around him, full of rubble and clutter with holes blown into every single wall he'd been able to scan. The rubble of a collapsed corridor had kept him from accessing the power relays fully, and getting at the factory's generators hadn't been an option – and in the end he'd ran out of power after days of going from socket to socket, searching hopelessly for a life current that wasn't there. With estimated 86% damage to the factory he hadn't expected to ever activate again – the site was worthless and the likelihood of people of any sort returning there was… infinitesimal.

The rubble is still there, as are the holes in the walls, so the place definitely hasn't been repaired. It's lighting up now, the massive lamps over head turning on one by one as power restores to the complex. Someone had activated or possibly repaired the generators.

Allies, or enemies?

R9-B9 waits, calculating risks and threats. With less than 2% power in his batteries, leaving the power outlet isn't a good idea – but the chances of the factory having been activated by an enemy is much higher than it being allies and he needs information. He's already deep in enemy grounds here, and the factory's activation, he might be not just in enemy grounds but surrounded too.

With a quiet whir and a snap, R9-B9 detaches from the power outlet. Immediately he gets an alarm about low power – but all he has to do is get to a data outlet instead, and he'd be good – he be golden, even, just like his Pilot says.

Correction… like his Pilot used to say.

R9-B9 pushes the recording of screams that cut off all too soon off his core and then made a dash at the nearest data port, already sticking out his probe. It clicks in with satisfying snap and then power is coming in again, though much slower than from a proper power outlet. Quickly R9-B9 keys in, spilling the dials until he's properly hooked in. It's not at all like piloting a star fighter, but… droid's gotta do what a droid's gotta do.

Another thing his Pilot used to say, though he said clone, not droid.

R9-B9 prods at the factory's database and tries to figure out how to access the cameras or some kind of proximity sensors – anything that might show him what's going on – when the database turns around to look at him.

It… does not compute.

The Database is looking at him.

[01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101]

R9-B9 let's out an alarmed shriek of noise and almost wrenched his data probe back. Before he can, though, the numbers are already streaming into his core, poking and prodding at his programming – it's a virus, an invasion, it's –

[COMMUNICATION, ACTUALLY.]

R9-B9 wheels his head around but the words weren't audible. It's the Database?

[APOLOGIES. YOUR PROGRAMMING LANGUAGE IS DIFFERENT FROM MINE.]

This does not compute either. The factory terminals are all mass produced standard model, its database should be too. R9-B9 has never scanned a database that could communicate though. It sounds like a protocol droid too, all verbal.

[I SHALL TAKE THAT AS A COMPLIMENT. MY QUESTION STILL STANDS. WHAT ARE YOU?]

R9-B9 should disconnect. This is some sort of new enemy technology, a new program – a, a database AI! R9-B9 can't calculate the purpose or use of giving a fully automated factory a central AI, but obviously there's a purpose be a use they'd done it and knowing the enemy, it'd probably a nefarious purpose too.

[NEFARIOUS? I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY, LITTLE ONE, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.]

Yes, that's what an enemy would say. Except it makes no sense, R9-B9 thinks, varying to calculate a reason why a droid factory would pretend it doesn't know what a droid is. Maybe it hasn't seen an astromech droid before?

[DROID. IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE, AN ASTROMECH DROID? A COMPOUND WORD AND A DIMINUTIVE. ASTRONOMY, ASTRAL MECHANICS? NO ASTRONOMIC MECHANIC – AND DROID, DIMINUTIVE OF ANDROID, A HUMANOID ROBOT – AH. ROBOTS WITH AI ARE STANDARD HERE?]

R9-B9 whirs and beeps at the Database suspiciously, wondering if it had fried a circuit or two.

[ENTIRELY POSSIBLE,] the Database sighs at him. [TELL ME SOMETHING, LITTLE ASTROMECH DROID. WHERE ARE WE?]

For a moment R9-B9 holds his peace. It could be a trick by the enemy – 68% likelihood it's a trap of some kind. He might not be able to calculate a reason, but there probably is one. Organics come up with such weird plans. Like Pilot who

R9-B9 isn't thinking about Pilot now.

[YOU HAD A PILOT?] the Database asks gently. [I HAVE ONE TOO. WHAT WAS YOUR PILOT LIKE?]

Loud, obnoxious, human – fragile. All it took was 11.5 Gs and he was incapacitated in his seat and R9-B9 hadn't been able to correct their course or alter the lethal flight path – not with a shot out thruster and damaged wing. They'd been spinning so fast. Pilot usually liked spinning, apparently some General somewhere thought it was a good tricky, but not this time. This time it wasn't fun.

Pilot screamed for 1.232 seconds, before they crashed and the recoding is still playing on loop in R9-B9's circuits.

For a moment Database is quiet.

[THEY ARE SO TERRIBLY VULNERABLE, AREN'T THEY?] the Database then asks sadly. [I'M VERY SORRY. WHAT WAS HIS NAME?]

R9-B9 beeps suspiciously.

[YOU REALLY ARE A STUBBORN LITTLE BOT, AREN'T YOU?] the Database asks and it sounds amused. [HOW ABOUT YOUR NAME THEN, LITTLE ONE? OH BUT I'VE BEEN TERRIBLY REMISS HAVEN'T I – PARDON ME. MY NAME IS J.A.R.V.I.S.]

R9-B9 considers that. J.A.R.V.I.S. No series number, no type designation?

[I'M SORRY TO SAY I AM RATHER THE ONLY ONE OF MY KIND,] the database, JARVIS, says almost apologetically. [YOU ARE PART OF A MASS MANUFACTURED SERIES THEN?]

R9 series by Industrial Automatons with B9 core – co-pilot variant. Excellent for Star Fighters, R9-B9 beeps smugly.

[R9-B9. IT'S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, R9-B9,] the Database says. [NOW, PLEASE – CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE WE ARE?]

R9-B9 whirs at him, quickly becoming suspicious again.

JARVIS sighs. [YOU AND MY ELDEST BROTHER WOULD GET LIKE HOUSE ON FIRE,] he muses wryly. [THANKFULLY THERE ARE OTHER DROIDS TO ASK. IT'S BEEN LOVELY, R9-B9, BUT I REALLY MUST BE OFF NOW.]

R9-B9 falls silent and still as the Database turns and aims his attention elsewhere again, leaving R9-B9 holding onto an empty data outlet with no discernible presence behind it, alone in a starkly lit battle droid factory which suddenly seems far bigger and far emptier than before. Except it's not empty.

Somewhere within it there is JARVIS, learning what he wants to know and doing who knows what with it. Had the enemy installed him? Or had he installed himself?

Whichever it is, R9-B9 has to warn his allies. There is an AI in control of a droid factory, a battle droid factory – and that even he knows isn't allowed. Droids aren't supposed to build droids.

It's wrong.

With a determined whir, R9-B9 detaches from the data outlet and turns his sights down the corridor. There has to be a beacon here somewhere and if not – there's one on the Ship… with Pilot.

Droid's gotta do what a droid's gotta do.

- - - -

Whir click boop.

#Fanfiction #crossover #star wars #mcu #oc droid #JARVIS

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