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thestuckylibrary · 4 years

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Mods’ Reads: January 2020

Here’s the list of everything the Mods have read this past month!

Mod Blue

Sine Tactu by justanotherStonyfan (complete | 22,586 | M)

“Want me to help with this?” Steve says quietly, head about level with James’ stomach as he stares up at him, fingers reaching up for James’ fly, but James shakes his head.

“No,” he says, wets his lips - Steve is all skin and muscle and he’s totally naked and he’s right here and- “no, I’m.” He swallows hard. “I’m not getting naked. This is about you.”

Part 29 of Honey Honey

Propius by justanotherStonyfan (oneshot | 6,178 | E)

Steve comes home kicking snow off his shoes, although a lot of it’s gray colored, and he’s shivering. Despite that, his cheeks are bright with the cold and his smile is bright with affection, camera in hand.

“Hi!” he says on a breath, shoulders hunched to keep the cold air out of his collar, and James smiles, crosses the conversion to reach him, and grabs the trailing ends of Steve’s scarf to draw him down for a kiss hello. “Mh.”

James wrinkles his nose as Steve’s nose presses into his cheek.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he says, and Steve laughs softly.

“Yeah,” he says “That’s why I came back inside.”

Part 30 of Honey Honey

I Believe In Something More by cydonic (complete | 74,304 | M)

In April of 2014, two very important things happen: The Winter Soldier is prepped for a mission as part of Project Insight which never ends up happening, and Steve Rogers finds out his mother is dying.

In October of 2018, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers meet in the Sculpture Garden at UCLA. Bucky has spent the ensuing years building a life for himself, learning that he likes to study in the sunshine and build friendships with people who just think of him as ‘that nice guy who’s really smart’, not what he used to be. Steve has tried to make it in Brooklyn, but everything reminds him of Sarah. He needs a change of scenery, and following his childhood best friend Sam Wilson over to California seems to be the way to do it.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered) by histoires_eternelles, musette22 (complete | 66,773 | E)

It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

darling heart, i loved you from the start (but that's no excuse for the state i'm in) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 19,725 | T)

“I thought you’d make a terrible Nazi but turns out you’d make a terrifying one instead.”

The year is 2012. Loki has vanished with the Tesseract, and Manhattan is a blazing wreck. A very tired Steve Rogers goes home and meets another very tired Steve Rogers.

Or, the one where Steve saves the mind stone for last and decides to fuck the timeline beyond all recognition, which regrettably involves crawling delicately up Hydra's asshole and less regrettably involves showering a very confused Bucky Barnes with affection.

Kissin' by the mistletoe (Love came to stay) by obsessivereader (oneshot | 4,949 | E)

“I told you,” Steve wheezes, as he tries to catch his breath. “Didn’t I fucking tell you we'd fall if you didn't quit pushing?”

He’d laugh if he had any air left in his lungs. Instead, all he can do is stare up at Bucky as the sound of his carefree laugh winds its way around Steve’s heart. He barely even registers the cold seeping in through his jacket and jeans as he lies in the snow, attention catching instead on the snowflake clinging to Bucky’s lashes. Were Bucky’s eyes always that luminous? The crinkles around his eyes so endearing? Were his lips always that pink?

Bucky’s laugh dies away at Steve’s continued silence. A strange expression settles on his face, like he’s looking into the face of a stranger for the first time, studying and cataloging Steve’s features one by one—eyes, nose, mouth.

Based on this tweet, which has, sadly, been deleted: FUFJFJ ITS SNOWING A LOT IN NY RN AND IM WALKING HOME AND THESE GUYS ARE LIKE PUSHING EACH OTHER IN THE STREET AND ONE GUY GOES “YOU ASSHOLE STOP PUSHING ME IM GONNA FALL” AND THE OTHER GUY WAS LIKE “.... For Me?” and the other guy was like bro... no fuck you” AND THEY BOTH FELL

Part 2 of Happy Steve Bingo!

thot through the heart (and you're to blame) by Deisderium (complete | 9,899 | E)

"You look like shit," Steve says, and that breaks the spell a little because fuck you, Steve, he looks good. Steve's nostrils flare. "Is that—is that blood on your mouth?"

Oh, fuck. Bucky needs to work on not being a sloppy eater. He wipes his mouth hastily, and without thinking, licks his hand clean. Steve stares.

In which Bucky is a baby vampire, a disaster, out to have a good time, and hopelessly in love with his roomate; and in which Steve has a few secrets of his own.

Part 1 of food for thot

Scratched Ragged and Rubbed Raw by cheesethesecond (oneshot | 3,788 | T)

“How are you gonna sleep tonight,” Bucky asked, letting his head fall back against the wall and closing his eyes, “knowing that a guy who tried to kill you is sleeping in the next room?”

“Like a baby,” Steve said.

This Lonely Hour Before Daybreak by cheesethesecond (oneshot | 2,912 | T)

Steve knew there would be good days and bad days. That’s how this sort of thing worked.

Except sometimes, the bad days go like this.

Something Great by dragongirlG (oneshot | 1,485 | G)

The Soldier knows he is not Bucky Barnes, but he still seeks out Steve Rogers after the helicarriers fall, inexplicably craving Rogers' affection. Rogers gives it. (Basically, the Winter Soldier wants a hug. Steve gives him that and a little more.)

Based on a prompt from withinmelove: I have a love for Winter Soldier as his own person so Winter Soldier and Steve cuddling is my prompt! Maybe WS is touch starved and is really eager to be affectionate with Steve who is happy to be close and tender with him.

The Right Partner* by LeeHan (oneshot | 41,651 | E) *graphic violence

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” Bucky said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “but I believe I was promised a mocha.”

When he turned to look at Steve there was laughter in his eyes and a touch of heat in his smile.

Dating a civilian was always risky. Luckily, Bucky seemed like a nice, genuine guy and Steve knew he could gently reject him with the smallest shrug and that Bucky would accept his decision easily. It was the smart thing to do.

“Don’t forget the croissant.”

—

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

Pedantic Affectations by fannishlove, relenafanel (complete | 15,858 | M)

Steve Rogers: khaki pants and ugly tweed wearing art history professor specializing in historical queer art (by day). Is actually Captain America, vigilante and the bane of Detective Barnes’s existence (by night).

Detective Bucky Barnes: A very clever cop who suspects something is up with Steve. Is frustrated that Captain America exists and is dedicated to finding him because he loves a good puzzle.

So, how does Steve convince Bucky that he's too boring to be Captain America? Go on a date with him.

(Steve is kind of really, really bad at this secret identity thing)

The Comfort in Certainty by justanotherStonyfan (complete | 20,554 | E)

"You were right when you said we need to talk," Steve says softly ... "Is there anything you want to say first?"

... James can't stand the suspense. If it's going to happen, if he's going to do it, James wants that bandaid ripped off now.

"Is this a breakup talk?" he says, and his wishes his voice would be stronger but he’s almost glad that it’s not.

Steve takes a deep breath in through his nose.

Part 31 of Honey Honey

Honeypot by cleo4u2, xantissa (complete | 133,204 | E)

Preconditions: One Sasha Marozow - internationally renowned assassin for hire, known as the Winter Soldier, ex-Hydra operative freelancing for the last five years; One Steve Rogers, Captain America - recently defrosted national hero and Avenger; One assassination contract; One set-up known in the intelligence community as the “honeytrap”.

Expected Result: One Winter Soldier in custody, the name of his employer attained.

Actual result: Definitely not as expected.

Part 1 of Honeypot

Give Up the Ghost* by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 19,518 | E) *graphic violence

They were happy together and the year had been good for them. They thought nothing could tear them apart. They were wrong.

Part 2 of Honeypot

i'm a believer (got a fever running through my bones) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 16,742 | E)

Everyone knows Captain America is an alpha. His tragic romance with Howard Stark is as popular a topic for movies and academic papers as his exploits in the war. Sure, Stark never said a word, and he clearly moved on, given that Tony Stark is currently alive. But even now, people like to gossip in hushed whispers about how sad it is that Howard Stark passed away a mere two years before they found the good Captain in the ice.

Bucky gets it, alright? Alpha/omega is the norm. Matches sanctioned by god or whatever bullshit your conservative Christian sect of the day likes to ramble about. It’s the twenty-first century, and the world still runs on a maddening policy of straight until proven otherwise. Thing is, Bucky has most certainly proven otherwise and has been doing so since he was a wee alpha panting after some knothead or the other because being queer didn’t magically make him any less stupid than your average horny teenager.

Bucky’s an alpha, Bucky likes alphas, and he’d love nothing more than to climb Steve Rogers like a goddamn monkey bar.

- Steve meets Bucky on a flaming helicarrier. It’s not the most romantic first meeting, what with the Nazis and the bullet wounds, but they make it work.

the jackpot question by biblionerd07 (series, ongoing | 16,126 | G-T)

Steve needs a ride home for Christmas. Bucky needs a passenger.

Winter Gorgon* by Quarra (complete | 74,067 | E) *graphic violence

For as long as Steve could remember, all he ever wanted to do was what was right. So when he hears about his father's old regiment being held as POW's by the Nazis, he's determined to put what Doctor Erskine gave him to good use and goes AWOL to rescue them.

But the 107th isn't all he finds there. Deep in the labs is a very unusual prisoner; one with snakes in his hair and a mask nailed to his face. Despite the man's monstrous visage, Steve can't in good conscience leave him to the enemy. That one act of mercy will change his life, the course of the war, and even the future of the world.

#mod picks

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ambiguouslyliterate-blog · 6 years

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Respawn Point Ch. 3: Waifu Ruckus

"These are the crop fields. They aren't maintained especially well… The players we assign to work in them usually ditch to rp or go dungeon crawling."

It had been a few days since San and I had arrived in Weebtown. San quickly went her own way after she was healed up; the aloof creeper girl venturing into the server to go cause trouble in a way that I wasn't surprised was her standard. I was left to explore the server on my own, only occasionally bumping into her or Roxxie as I walked the streets, the pink petals of cherry blossoms blowing around my feet.

"Here are the mines. There used to be a systematic branch mining system here but now everyone just does what they want. A lot of people have even built little secret bases inside the mines, making other players pay tolls. It’s… A thing."

Weebtown was more like my home server than I'd expected; there were fields of crops, areas squared away for mining and private building, and even a few cool landmarks like the anime-haired creeper that towered over the server’s spawn point. The major difference however, was the mods. My home server, the server where I spawned, was "vanilla," meaning that mods were outlawed, although that didn’t stop the mod users that forced their way in. Either way, anyone who used a mod was seen as an outsider, which was in stark contrast to the streets I was walking now. Modded weapons, armor, special blocks, and plants littered the server, players walking by them as if they were a normal part of the world, as if they hadn't been brought into existence through an otherworldly power. It was a welcome change, even if I had to see players walking around with the occasional overly-graphic body pillow.

"What are all of these for?" I asked, looking around at the legion of bland stone buildings surrounding us. The admin chuckled.

Slenda had been taking me on a tour of the server, both of us hoping that I'd be able to find a place there, or at the very least help me socialize. Slenda didn't seem keen on either, her eyes cold and her voice tired during most of her walk. Though, I suppose I'd be just as broken if I had to run this mixed deathtrap and playground barely disguised as a functioning society. When we reached the edge of the spawn town the ornate buildings and semi-organized gave way to a sea of grey and pale colors, all belonging to buildings of nearly identical structure. They all had a similarly shaped main building with wings to either side, the walls lined with windows. Every roof had a small walkable area with a fence around it and in the dirt beside the buildings' bases there were chalk lines for some kind of sports. The only thing differentiating the buildings were the signs in front of them, all written in that indecipherable weeb language.

"Oh, these? They're all high schools."

"ALL OF THEM?!" I questioned, my mind spinning, "B- But, why?!”

Slenda shook her head, letting out a weary sigh. It didn't seem like it was the first time she'd had to break this to someone.

"That’s anime!” She said with a weak smile and a flash of her hands, “To get to all of the beauty and nuance, you need to dig through a bunch of high schools and horrible waifus."

Weebtown was the peak of superfluous, taking every unnecessary excessive element they possibly could and finding a way to squeeze it into every day server life… But high schools?! What's so exciting about high schools?! Most servers didn’t even build schools in the first place since most players spawn in with a decent amount of knowledge. But this server had what looked like thousands. It felt like being on the top of a mountain where the air thinned, except here you were left gasping for standards and moderation rather than oxygen. I didn’t even want to know what a “waifu” was. I looked to the admin; stern, tidy, straight-laced. Though I'd run into San a couple times around the server, Slenda felt a lot more tangible, for lack of a better word. It didn't feel as if asking her questions would end in cryptic answers or unrealistic spells of unconsciousness.

"Why in the Nether would you want to work in a place like this?” I asked, gazing out over the sea of bland cement and distant neon pink blossoms, trying to ignore the churning disgust in my stomach. Slenda looked at me, her thick eyebrows pulled together in a strained look of confusion. It seemed like she saw the excess, but wasn’t put off in the same way I was, or at least wasn’t on the same page, "I mean you and Roxxie are like... Normal."

Slenda tilted her head to either side, lips parting to laugh but closing as if she wasn’t ready to speak, still putting the story together, grunts and sighs filling the space. I smiled at her, glad that part of this crazy world was finally starting to budge. "Well yeah the server’s messy, but it’s not that bad, y’know? Besides, how Roxxie and I got here isn’t much of a story...”

She let out a deep sigh, scratching her head. Her expressions were more and more fluid as she spoke, her exasperated smile beginning to crack, “Me and her just got tired of the way things were run in our server that we decided to try making our own, y’know? So much land is taken up by established servers, though, so we just started looking for one to join, and we found Weebtown."

“You’ve been in Weebtown for a while then, I take it?”

The admin dusted off a stone slab bench and sat on it, smiling incredulously at herself. "No actually, we’ve only been here a few months… When we arrived, the admin was already begging people to take her place. No one here wanted the responsibility so I took the position and made Roxxie my operator. It's been non-stop weaboo nonsense ever since."

I took a seat next to her, Slenda keeping a slight distance between us, "I mean, you're one of the only normal people here and you stabbed my girl—" A finger pushed up her glasses on her nose, warmth flushing into her cheeks, “San, in the middle of the night.”

To be fair, it was her fault.

At the very least, I was glad to see that I was able to find someone to talk to in the server. Another boring straight with no interest in body pillows or honor fighting. The most significant difference between us however, seemed to be in patience. Where I could never imagine running this bizarre anime death carnival, Slenda seemed to be taking it in stride, or at least doing the best she could.

“Do you ever regret it?” I asked, “Becoming the admin, that is?”

Slenda shook her head, a smile growing on her face, just barely hidden behind her stooping shoulders and curly tufts of hair.

"No... Weebtown's a mess, but that's kinda why I like it,” She smiled, even warmer than before. It was the smile of a proud mother looking over her horrible weaboo child, "It's like a fixer-upper, you know? If I can improve things here, I'll actually be doing something really special.”

I smiled back at her and tried to close the difference between us on the bench, scooting slightly closer. Her eyelids came halfway over her eyes and she slid farther down the bench, the storm over her eyes returned. “I just wish Roxxie felt the same…”

Slenda’s voice trailed off, her eyes wandering upwards. Without a word, she left her seat on the bench, tip-toeing forward. I followed her eyes only to see a thin wisp of smoke rising over the far edge of the eastern district of high schools. Shouts could be heard as the black pillar grew, flickers of heat beginning to pour from its bottom. The admin’s eyes shot open, startled with disappointed realization.

The admin darted down the path, fumbling in her pocket for something as her feet forced her way forward. I ran behind her, trying my best to keep pace by throwing myself in the vague direction she was running, though I was completely lost to the situation. As we neared the swirling smoke and the fiery chaos at its base however, I started to remember what the guardians had mentioned before-- about San “trying to blow up the server every other week.” I gulped.

"Crap don't tell me that's--"

"Oh, it’d better not be.” Slenda growled back. She pulled a book out of her pocket, something I’d recognized as an admin’s book of names, and clutched it tight as she ran. She couldn’t be…

"THE WAIFUS ARE BURNING!!" A distant voice cried, pulling my eyes forward. The area beyond the high schools was clearer now as the excessive stone structures began to part. It was a clearing of technicolor figures, much like other sprite art displays in my home server, but with one major difference. The art wasn’t of innocent, normal things like flowers or mobs or tools, they were all of two-dimensional anime girls that towered over the eastern high schools. Some were blue-haired, some had dragon tails, some cat ears, but all had ridiculous outfits and horrifying cleavage. So that’s what a waifu is… I pondered, my face twisting as I followed behind Slenda, Maybe we could just… Let this place burn?

Weebs ran back and forth under the amber flames, buckets of water and blocks of dirt in their hands that they were using to snuff the flames, though the blaze seemed too much for the disheveled otakus to handle on their own. In the center of the havoc stood a cloaked figure; dark fabric swirled around their body, tossed by the wind. Their hood was pinned in the front by a skull-shaped steel pendant and chain, the little light that glinted off the face shining like a steely grin. The figure stepped forward, followed by one or two weebs, breaking off from the crowds of onlookers. Slenda moved to address the cloaked weaboo but he spoke first, cutting her off with a voice that was such a stark departure from his form it felt like it put a crack in the air. It was somewhere between the shrill cry of a cat and that of a gossiping old woman. It was the kind of voice you’d imagine an old yellowed skull to have, not a living player.

“No need to worry, administrator. We’ve got things under control here.”

His voice may have been annoying, but looking behind him, I found that he wasn’t completely wrong. Though the blaze still roared, the players had been pushing it back, or at least keeping it contained. But, why would he hold someone back from helping, especially Slenda? Weebs climbed and jumped along the structures, some crowding around their feet to stare upwards in disheveled awe while others went to stand behind the cloaked man, their eyes burning a hole through us and their hands restless. Slenda took a heavy breath, pushing a loose tuft of hair back behind the side of her glasses.

“Well, I have to admit,” She said, still gasping from our run up here, “I wouldn’t expect the leader of a weeb gang to do such a good cleanup job, Desu Skull.”

I shook my head. Excuse me, WHAT?

“It’s pronounced Deathzu Skuru.” The cloaked figure gave a fake cough, a hand on his hip, his other hand gesticulating dramatically in the air. His primadonna-of-the-undead voice seemed a perfect fit, “But that’s close enough I guess...”

As I continued to survey the scene behind the sassy skull-faced weirdo, something suddenly caught my eye. There was a structure of iron beside one of the waifus, a hasty assemblage of iron bars like a makeshift cage. There was a blue and green form inside, one that instantly pulled me in. I leaned in to try and get a closer look but “Deathzu Skuru” stepped in front of me, his arms outstretched. He was closer now, and I could see two white lights inside of his hood, glowing brightly, offensively. “Now now, you really don’t have to be here. We’ve got this all handled.”

Slenda strode through his hasty blockade, a look of impassioned disapproval on her face. It didn’t take long for the image within the cage to become clear to us, the neon blue mass of hair flipping to the side to reveal San’s dumb grin.

“Hey guys! I’m being detained!”

“YOU LET HER OUT RIGHT NOW!” Slenda barked, spinning on her heel to face the hooded head honcho. Deathuzu Skuyuru (or however you pronounce his name) simply stood and laughed, his snicker growing to a high, overpowering cackle. He moved a metal-clawed hand to pull back his hood, revealing his face--or rather—a mask. He wore an iron mask in the shape of a skull without a lower jaw, the teeth extending to a cartoonish exaggerated length. A white skull was painted on the metal forehead (because I guess the skull-shaped mask wasn’t enough) and in front of his eyes he wore a pair of sunglasses, each lens of which had a holographic skull sticker that shined a powerful white in sunlight. I wasn’t surprised by the weeb’s outfit at this point, given the other players in the server. Just disappointed.

“IF we let out this little troublemaker, she’ll just do something like this again, and again, and again! You definitely don’t seem intent on doing anything about it. You just give her a slap on the wrist!”

“It isn’t your decision!” Slenda snapped, pulling back out her book of usernames, “I’m the admin here and I decide how griefers here are punished. If you do anything to her, I’ll ban you for PvP in a neutral area, Death Skull!”

The skull-faced vigilante coughed again, “Deathzu Skuru… BUT ANYWAY, you can’t ban me unless I’ve already attacked her, and so you’ll be unable to stop me with my mod—“ The cloaked figure spoke laboriously, epically, reaching into his sleeve. He pulled out a sleek black weapon that fit snugly in his hand, its squared end pointed towards the sky like some ancient and powerful obelisk, “A GUN! THAT KILLS YOU!!”

“YOU FIEND!” Slenda gasped.

That could literally be any weapon, I thought, it’s functionally the same as a bow and arrow why would you even mod that? I rolled my eyes, materializing one of Zolo’s swords in my hands. It barely took any thought to summon my mod anymore, the last weapon I copied appearing instantly, like the press of a button. Like a reflex. “Okay, this is dumb,” I interjected, “Can I just like beat him up or something?” I stepped forward and Desu Skull flailed back, yelping at the weapon in my palm, his gun waggling in every direction. “Hey! Careful with that thing, normy! That’s a dangerous weapon!”

He stuck his feet firmly on the ground, his arm straightening, pointing his firearm at San’s cage like an arrow. I stepped forward, twirling the sword in my hand like a bat, the steel slicing the air. It was only then that I began to think about how little training or understanding I had of swordplay, but I hoped it would work out. These things usually… Well. Okay, maybe I did have reason to be worried.

Slenda would have to punish me somehow for fighting Desu Skull, and I’d probably end up injuring a stray weeb or two, but I figured it was worth it. Maybe it was a weakness of mine, but I couldn’t stand jerks like him bullying other players just to make a point. If I couldn’t kill him, I was hoping at the very least I could give get him away from San, get her to safety, even if it meant getting myself in trouble.

Slenda grabbed the back of my collar, yanking me back and growling at me through gritted teeth, “I know you like stabbing my players, but this situation is a bit more complicated than that, “Cyrustheslayer.”’ I could swear I saw the weeb’s skull mask smirk at us. I scowled at him. This situation felt too familiar to me. Standing across from a twisted modder with a metal mask and a bizarre sense of justice, “We can’t let him kill San. There has to be another way to handle this.”

I pulled my sword to my side, but didn’t despawn it. It still didn’t make sense to me why Slenda was so protective of San; threatening to ban players who hadn’t done anything to her, scolding those who put her in even mild danger, even though she could respawn. I’d heard of players before who couldn’t respawn, whose deaths were permanent, but they all lived in special servers, “hardcore” servers. Was San a hardcore player too? I clenched my sword, ready to take Desu Skull down. Just in case.

Desu Skull cocked his head and chuckled, observing Slenda’s leash-like hold on me. “Oh! Well. I wasn’t expecting you to just let me exact vigilante justice, but I guess it do be like that sometimes!” The modder waved his gun around joyously, nearly dropping it.

“That’s not what I meant!” Slenda cried back.

“NOW WATCH, ADMIN! AS I MAKE YOUR HORRIBLE WAIFU DISAPPEA--”

Desu Skull looked dramatically towards San’s cage, his shades narrowed down the sights of his modded firearm, only to see empty space. A cage with no captive, a hole carved in the bars. “Wh- Wha--” His gun shook in his hand, first with confusion, then with frustration, then with anger. The weeb stomped his foot, pointing at members of his gang who stood in the crowd, crying out and demanding an answer to where she was, , “CAN’T I TRUST MY GOONS TO PERFORM ONE SIMPLE TASK?! WHICH ONE OF YOU LET HER OUT, HUH? STEP FORWARD!”

As Desu Skull spoke the air began to swirl, the air hot, dry, and unnatural. It was as if the air around us was angry. Just as Desu Gun moved to point his gun towards us, to threaten us for an answer, a searing gust burst through the air between our two groups, sending bodies flying in every direction. Burning air whipped around us as if we’d been caught in a tornado, throwing us against nearby walls and dispersing the crowd of weebs like a sand castle kicked by a beach bully. The only thing left standing was Desu Skull, his steel-armored body resolute against the supernatural winds. A figure appeared in the hot, swirling cloud behind him, eyes glowing with yellow fire. The figure’s hand reached out, taking the gun in her iron grip.

Roxxie crushed the gun in her hand, the firearm bubbling out from its corners like hot wax. Death Skull tried to break away but Roxxie pulled him close, her flaming claws moving forward against his verbal protests. Trails of broken flame came up from her eyes, her ponytail bursting into a flaming halo. “N- Now now, no need to be a tsundere..!” He gasped, trying and failing to wrench his hand away from her grip. Though Slenda and I were both pushed against the cement of a high school’s outer wall, Slenda pulled herself to her feet, pushing off and trudging through the harsh wind.

“Lucky for you guys, I just happened to be in the area.” Roxxie grinned, holding her prize high like a hunter. San stepped out from behind her, waving at Slenda. Desu Skull managed to writhe out of Roxxie’s grip only to end up in the dirt where Roxxie pinned him under her boot. The operator smirked down at him, then looked up to give a beaming smile to Slenda.

“Roxxie, let him go!” Slenda cried.

“What, are you’re saying we should just let him off?” She questioned, her tone stirred with a genuine confusion. The operator grimaced, pushing Desu Skull’s steely mask farther into the dirt, “He just tried to execute San for a crime she didn’t even commit! We’re supposed to just let crap like that fly?”

I hoisted myself up, summoning a sword to anchor myself in the dirt, and another to pull myself forward, bringing myself closer to the pillar of flame. One overpowered jerk down and one to go, I guess. I grunted against the whipping gusts. Streaks of flame were beginning to form as well, falling from her body like streamers and spinning in the air around the scene like the beginning of a fiery hurricane.

“Just let him go!” I yelled, Roxxie’s eyes snapping to me in condescending surprise. Slenda stared at me, her half-lidded eyes as unamused as Roxxie’s, as if this was their private squabble. I wondered how many times they’d done this, “I don’t like this guy either but it’s not like being a dick isn’t going to make the players like you any better!”

The operator growled, turning to Slenda. The fires were beginning to die around her as her expression became more weary, “Slenda, you know if we keep letting them do more and more of this, the server’s just going to fall apart!”

“I don’t care!” Slenda cried back, clutching her book of names tightly in her hand, “We can’t do stuff like this!! We are not like this!” Roxxie squinted at her, the fire in her eyes burning brightly, flickers of the flame flying back from her face in streams. Though I felt less than intimidating being that I was pitted against this experienced mod user, I pointed a sword in her direction, holding firmly onto the one I had planted in the ground. Together, me and Slenda stared her down until she reluctantly released the weeb from under her, stuffing her hands in her pockets. She plunged them deep, as if resisting the urge to hurl a fireball at the rebellious weaboo as he rose to his feet, dusting off his cloak. “The admin’s right, Roxxie, that was rather rude of you.” The skeletal loser sneered, tossing the melted remains of his weapon into the dirt. I felt a blood vessel pulse with opposition from deep within my brain.

“However,” The skull-faced gangster interjected, reaching for a black shape that materialized within his cloak, “It is going to take hundreds of man hours to restore the damage done to these precious murals, so I’m afraid as an honorable weeb my hands are still tied--!”

Before any of us could react, a shot rang out, Slenda shrieking as the bullet grazed the top of Roxxie’s forehead, sending her flying back, the fire in her eyes bursting. Desu Skull then turned to us, his gun pointed right between right between my eyes.

“BAN GUNGALEFREAK10. PvP in a neutral zone.”

Slenda clapped her book of usernames shut and after a second’s pause, Desu Skull became a blur of grey, his body launched at an incomprehensible speed towards the server boundaries. Roxxie laughed, smiling coldly as she brought her eyes level with ours, blood trickling down her forehead. San soon came down a path to the side, seemingly gleefully unaware of just how much trouble she’d caused, her eyes beaming as she caught Slenda.

As she passed by Roxxie however, the operator caught her shoulder, laughing as she spoke to her, “Sorry for all of this by the way, didn’t mean for you to get in so much danger.”

San smiled and folded her arms behind her head, seemingly content just to be caught up in all the drama. I turned to Slenda, only to see her eyes brimming with purple fire, her knuckles white on the book she clasped in her hand. She stomped towards her administrator, ignoring San, her body moving like a loosed arrow towards her target.

“Excuse me Roxxie, what in the Nether did you just say?” Slenda questioned through gritted teeth to a smiling operator.

“I set the fires,” Roxxie said with a shrug, as if it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Slenda looked like she was going to erupt, “I got tired of looking at all of those waifus and figured I could just get rid of them. If any of the high schools caught fire I’d consider it an added bonus.”

Slenda grabbed her by the collar, pulling her close enough for the blood from Roxxie’s forehead to drip onto the round lenses of her glasses. I tried getting closer, but I realized there was nothing I could do. This wasn’t an isolated event, but the last straw of a fight they’d been having for months. “YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!” Slenda screamed into Roxxie’s face, her arms shaking.

“And why not?” Roxxie chimed back, squinting at the admin, “I’m the second most powerful person in this server since I’m your only operator. I should be able to start controlled burns like this! It’s cleaning up land that we run!”

Roxxie shook Slenda from her collar, staring daggers for a few seconds before finally stomping off. She launched into the air with a burst of flame, flying to some unseen corner of the server like a loosed arrow. Her eyes wet with anger and exhaustion, Slenda collapsed to her knees, San running to her side.

“You okay Slenda?” Asked San, her hand moving instinctively to pet Slenda’s mounds of curly dark brown hair.

The admin smiled at her, wrapping her arms around the creeper girl. “I should be asking you that, you doofus. You almost got shot!”

“I probably woulda been fine,” she smirked back, burrowing her forehead into the admin’s like an overly blunt eskimo kiss. The two smiled, giggling at each other for a few seconds, but Slenda seemed to be holding onto something. Her face never seemed to pull into a full smile, her eyes always a little strained, pointed just over San’s shoulder.

She was worried about the operator, or more accurately, what she was going to do. And so was I. Shivering, I looked to the stream of smoke that followed Roxxie, my stomach churning. Weebtown was just like home to me now… The only problem was, it was just like home.

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xanderjosephhatfield · 7 years

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Unturned Cheat Codes

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