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angelofrainfrogs · 5 months

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Going Back: Ch. 7

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn.

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once.

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined.

Rating: T

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Down in Bonnie Bowl, the hare himself lined up a winning shot. The strike sailed straight and true down the lane, causing Bonnie to fist-pump the air when the pins fell aside.

“Righteous!” he exclaimed, ecstatic to play again after all this time away.

“Bon-Bon!” shouted Sam from the entry doors. “Come meet everyone!”

Looking over his shoulder, the lanky lagomorph sent a smile to the group of humans. They even had a kid with them this time!

An… Oddly familiar kid.

But a scan to the group from afar would indicate the only person he met prior besides Sam was Michael—descendant of his own original creator and a pretty solid mechanic.

“Hey, y’all!” the bunny called, springing towards the group with a happy-go-lucky stride. “You folks trying to play a few games with me?”

Freddy's face had fallen ever-so-slightly at Bonnie's lack of acknowledgement, though he was quick to cover up this speck of disappointment. Of course Bonnie wouldn't recognize him... he didn't exactly look like Freddy anymore.

“Hey, Bon; yeah, we're here to hang out for a bit!” Michael confirmed with a wave.

Whereas the other animatronics were aware that something had gone down over the weekend, Mike still wasn't entirely sure what Bonnie remembered. As Sammy said, they'd had to pull his AI from an old save file dated before recent events—around the time Bonnie had officially been declared “replaced” instead of just “missing.” Without any sort of context for why Freddy would make such a drastic change, there was no telling how easily Bonnie would process his friend's transformation.

“Let's do some introductions,” Michael continued. “Obviously you know me and Sam. This cute little monster is Gregory—” Here Mike would pinch the boy's cheek, much to his dismay, then move on to clap Charlie on the arm. “—and this is Charlie; she's an old, old friend of ours. And this, if you can believe it...”

Placing a hand on Freddy's back, he gently pushed the redhead forward a few steps. “This is your old pal, Freddy.”

“Hello again, Bonnie,” Freddy greeted, still wearing that huge, infectious grin. He'd never wanted to reach out and hug the rabbit as much as he did in this very moment, but felt he deserved a tad more explanation first. “Despite how this may look, I am in fact still a robot—my AI was transferred to this body for reasons that will take a bit too long to explain at the moment. However, it is still me! It is so good to see you, old friend.”

Bonnie looked highly confused at the declaration that this random human was Freddy Fazbear. He certainly didn’t look like him… but when the guy spoke, Bonnie was very inclined to believe him. Oh, the urge to tackle his friend was far too real! One could see the excitement grow inside Bonnie before Freddy was scooped up and tossed gently in the air. Bonnie was quick to catch him in a hug, messing up Freddy’s hair with an oversized paw.

“Ol’ sport!” that twangy southern accent drawled, nuzzling the side of his face against Freddy’s affectionately. “You thought you could hide from me in that little people costume? Sooorry, Fredbear! You can’t get rid of this bunny so easily.”

The others could only stand and witness the rabbit maul Freddy with affection. While Bonnie had an idea of how long he'd been decommissioned for, he had no frame of reference for why. All he was sure of was that he’d severely missed his animatronic pals—and the bear earned a selfishly tight hug as Bonnie swayed with his friend to and fro.

Only when the excitable rabbit finally eased up did Freddy reach up to playfully rub the top of Bonnie's head—a gesture which made his expressive ears flop every which way. Freddy's smile only widened, having almost forgotten how wonderful it was to see his best friend's smiling face not just on a poster or in his memory banks.

“I missed you so much, you silly rabbit,” the ursine man said, giving him one more squeeze. He then looked towards the ground briefly before meeting Bonnie's bright gaze. “Although, I will need to be set down one of these days, if you do not mind. You must meet the others!”

“So—you got a haircut, right?” Bonnie teased, gathering so far that Freddy’s new form had to be an animatronic of some type. Coming to stand beside Freddy was the small kid—Gregory, as the young Afton introduced. Bonnie squatted with a curious tilt of his head to be more on his level.

“Oh, and you’re Gregory!” he cooed, reaching for Gregory’s hand to shake heartily. “I am the one, the only, Bonnie Bunny!”

From his squat position the eccentric rabbit took Charlie’s hand as she too approached, crossing his arms over his chest to reach both her and Gregory at once. “Charlie! Such a neat name; I love it!”

Whatever prior hesitation Gregory and Charlie may have had, there was no doubt that Bonnie in his true form was nothing short of charming. Now that he and Freddy were together again, it was almost like watching the old TV show. Gregory could see the familiarity with how Bonnie acted to how he was in the original Fredbear and Friends.

“Another surprise for you, Bon-Bon—" Mike chimed in, garnering the rabbit's attention. "—you know how your scan of me kept registering weird? Like I said, it's not a malfunction; Freddy, Charlie, and I are all robots! Close your eyes, Gregory.”

When the boy did so, Michael reached up to pull back the flap of skin on his neck revealing his access port. He moved over so the astounded bunny could examine it closer before hiding it away again.

“Henry Emily created these bodies,” Freddy added, pointedly not including the timeframe for these technological marvels. Later he could sit down with Bonnie and explain all the sordid details. For now, he just wanted to focus on the happy reunion. “Over the years he moved on from creating animals and strove to make lifelike androids—this is the result! And would you like to know something amazing? The other day, I was able to eat a hamburger... without it clogging up all of my systems!”

Michael couldn't stop a snort from escaping at this proclamation. The way Freddy described consuming a burger was like he'd discovered the eighth wonder of the world. Although, to robotic AIs who never thought they'd get a chance to do such a thing, he reasoned the feeling was probably similar. He just hoped Bonnie didn't get jealous and want a body of his own anytime soon.

With fists resting over his hips, Bonnie popped up animatedly to stare at Freddy with intrigue and amazement. “Hold up—the Henry Emily? Goodness gracious, what I’d give to meet my creator! You’re lucky, Fredbear!”

He’d pay his kudos to Freddy, happy for him regardless of whether or not Bonnie would ever get his own human form. Though it would be nice, walking around like all the people do…

“Oh man… I want to eat a burger! How’d it taste? What’s tasting even like? Haha!” the jolly old rabbit inquired, laughing at the absurdity of Freddy’s new life.

Gregory was sort of blindsided by how Bonnie moved. It was mesmerizing in the way Sun or Moon moved, every movement fluid like a nimble dancers. It was certainly more human than Roxy or Monty’s animation cycles. Then Gregory remembered that the same thing happened to Freddy when exposed to human souls… Gregory chose not to dwell on this as Bonnie came over and inspected the nearly undetectable slit in the back of Michael’s neck, looking at him and Charlie with awe.

“Well aren’t y’all a couple of technological marvels! That’s really something…,” he murmured.

“You know I would only do such a drastic thing as move bodies for a good reason,” Freddy said, his tone a bit softer than before as he placed a hand on Bonnie’s arm and squeezed. He too could sense the subtle changes in the bunny’s movement and emotional capacity.

Like Freddy, Bonnie was still clearly himself at his core—thank god William Afton’s murderous personality hadn’t rubbed off on him—but he just seemed… more. More expressive, more fluid, more alive.

“Yeah, so… I told Bonnie that a lot went down while he was out,” Michael piggybacked on Freddy’s comment with an exhausted grin. “I figured we’d let Freddy spill all the details later, but I’ll just tell you, Bon—your friend is quite literally one of the kindest souls we’ve ever met.”

Freddy chuckled softly, and if his cheeks reddened slightly with joyful embarrassment, who was to say? He lifted Gregory into his arms, setting the boy on his hip to face their latest animatronic companion.

“A detailed explanation will be provided in time, yes,” Freddy began, then pressed the briefest kiss to the top of Gregory’s head before looking up at Bonnie with the utmost pride a papa bear could muster. “But all you need to know for the moment is that Gregory is my boy, and I have taken on this form to care for him as best I can.”

Gregory slung an arm around his dad, looking up to the bunny. Bonnie’s head was tilted as Freddy explained, and Gregory witnessed as he processed the information faster than a falling anvil.

Bonnie felt something weird. It was an odd emotion he’d never experienced before, or was designed to at all really. It was the sharp knife of what Bonnie could only assume to be... jealousy? As fast as that odd, stabbing metaphorical pain was, it left even faster. The emotion never registered on the animatronic’s face. But when sanity hit Bonnie he reminded himself that being jealous of a 12 year old was… Pretty silly.

Bonnie would quickly chalk this weird glitch to the suddenness of it all. Coming back online after so long with things being so different… This was probably a normal feeling to have in the current situation.

“Shucks, Freddy—the little guy must mean a lot to you!” To Gregory’s relief and happiness, Bonnie reached out to pat Gregory’s head without any violent or weird intent. “Anyone who’s got Fred that wrapped around their finger is a friend of mine! And that means y’all are gonna visit me whenever you can, ya hear?”

He’d not take no for an answer; the family would be dropping by as often as they could.

“Of course!” Freddy replied, grinning from ear to ear. Now that Bonnie was back online and functional, it would be a monumental task to keep the pair away from each other. Looking to the rest of his companions, Freddy posed the question: “Well, since we are already here... how about a round of bowling?”

“Oh, you're on, Fazbear!” Michael exclaimed, glad for the chance to do something besides stand around talking. He'd been still and focused for most of the day with Bonnie's repairs, and while he was glad the rabbit was up and running again he was admittedly tired of staring at him. Looking too long at those red eyes reminded Michael of who used to be inside... which was a topic he didn't want to think about.

Besides, Bonnie—the real Bonnie—was the kind of guy you just loved to hang out with, and Michael wasn't going to give up that chance.

“Gregory, you and me are going to smoke your dad,” Michael said when Gregory was set on the floor, meeting the boy's gaze determinately. Whether they played individually or added up their scores in teams, Michael knew Gregory was the best “human” player they had. Putting up a bet against the bowling alley's namesake was a lost cause, but maybe they could beat Freddy with Gregory's new skills...

Gregory stood separated from his father now, running to high-five Michael.

“We're totally smokin' them!” he agreed. Bonnie cracked his knuckles at that.

“Did you hear that, Fred? I think these fella’s don’t even know what they’re in for.” The duo were naturals at the game, and Bonnie’s winning streak began anew starting tonight. He’d make a show of stretching, as if working out his joints to limber himself up for their game. Sending a wink to Samuel, he told the man: “Boss, you’ll be on our team. Right?”

Sam chuckled nervously. He wasn’t the best at bowling, but with Freddy and Bonnie’s skill, he might be able to skate by with letting the two of them take the helm of the game.

“Sure! Why the heck not?” he agreed, somewhat bashful as the group made their way for the lanes.

“Excellent. They do not stand a chance,” Freddy said with a grin, mirroring Bonnie's attempts to stretch out his limbs. When they settled at the lanes Freddy turned his wide smile on the opposing team, wishing them a simple: “Good luck—you will certainly need it.”

“Oh—you've got sass now, Fredbear. Okay.” Michael sneered back, hands on his hips. “Don't get too ahead of yourselves... you might be surprised at our amazing skills.”

It didn't take long for the teams to devolve mostly into smack talk, all in jest as they continued to playfully poke fun at each other too much to finish a proper game. At one point it was less of a bowling competition and more of a demonstration for Sam, with both Charlie and Freddy instructing him on the proper way to hold his wrist, and with Bonnie telling Gregory the worst knock-knock jokes either he or Michael ever heard. The group would simply have to find out who the true bowling champions of the Pizzaplex were another time.

“Hey, Gregory—what do you say you and I take a field trip?” Michael asked, sidling closer as Bonnie was called over to judge Sammy's latest attempt at a strike. “As thrilling as Bonnie's jokes are, I think if I hear one more 'knock knock' come out of his mouth I'm going to knock myself out. Besides—” He grinned, raising a questioning eyebrow. “—I think it's time we give Evan and Lizzie a little tour of the Pizzaplex. How about it?”

Michael looked over at the quartet by the lane and let out a snort. “Or, I guess I should ask—do you think you can convince your dad to let you out of his sight for more than five minutes?"

Mike had charismatically convinced Gregory to split from the group with the promise of seeing his friends again—and Gregory did promise them he’d be back to hang out for longer tonight. Besides, he hadn't even seen the other kids in a few nights. Without much of a fight on his part, Gregory nodded and ran to Freddy’s side.

“Dad! Dad—” Gregory said, having to repeat himself. Normally Freddy was fairly attentive, but now that he was distracted by his best friend, it took two tries to get his father to glance at him.

“—Dad,” he said a third time, followed by the pressing question: “Michael and I wanna go see the others downstairs. That's cool, right?”

“The others?” Freddy repeated, looking to Michael as he stepped over.

“Yeah, I thought I could take Gregory down to see them,” Michael clarified. “It'll give you guys a chance to catch up too, while we're at it.”

“Well, I suppose that would be alright—I am sure they miss your company, superstar.” Freddy smiled down at his son, smoothing out his hair. With a little exclamation of pleasant surprise, Freddy patted his front pocket. “Now that we all have cell phones, it will be easy for us to keep in touch! Please call me when you are on the way back so we know when to expect you.”

“You got it, big guy.” Michael gave Freddy a salute, then called to the others. “Hey, Gregory and I are heading out for a little bit—see you guys later!”

“Don't do anything stupid!” Charlie laughed after them, watching her brother throw an easy gutter ball that nearly had her into stitches from the disappointed look on Sam's face.

Gregory would argue… except she kind of had a point. He and Mike found themselves in stupid scenarios all the time, though it seemed more or less that stupidity followed them rather than them seeking it out actively. With a roll of his eyes and a spring in his step, Gregory called to Charlie in a sarcastic manner that only further served to fuel her laughter. “Don't worry, we probably will anyway!”

“Take it easy, youngsters!” Bonnie waved, taking his place again by Freddy's side with unabashed interest as they caught up on life.

***

Now that the path to the basement was a familiar one, the trek downstairs seemed shorter each time. Before they knew it Michael and Gregory were at the door to Henry's workshop, which was cracked open invitingly. As a courtesy, Mike knocked before entering. “Uncle Henry? You in there?”

“Michael!” Henry's tone was surprised, and there was a hurried bit of shuffling papers and slamming drawers before the door was pulled fully open. The pair were greeted by Henry's smiling face and his hands moved to rest casually on his hips. “What brings you guys to the depths?”

“We're looking for Evan and Lizzie,” Michael explained, peering around the room suspiciously. For all he knew, they could be waiting to ambush him somewhere; he hadn't forgotten Liz's threat from the last time they'd seen each other. Upon finding no sign of plotting siblings, Michael turned his gaze back to Henry. “Any chance you've seen them?”

“Hmm... can't say that I have.” Henry gave a shrug, although from the mirthful light in his eyes it seemed like he knew more than he was letting on.

For a moment Gregory was worried. Where could they have possibly gone?

Little known to him that their friends were waiting to prank Michael so hard, he'd double-die of embarrassment. That's what Lizzie would proclaim anyway. After having Cassidy steal a fair amount of whipped cream from the bakery, Liz and Evan were sitting out of sight with the canisters at the ready.

“Oh man—come on, Mike. I think I know where they're at.” Gregory said knowingly, starting into the darkness of what Henry so lovingly referred to as the depths. “They're inside the dinner.”

“Alright, I'm following your lead” Michael replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. They walked even farther down towards the diner, which sat quiet and empty.

Well, at least it looked to be empty. The silent, shoulder-shaking laughter of the youngest Aftons would say otherwise. Evan and Lizzie hid just around the corner of the front doors, lying in wait for their prey to walk through. There was one sibling on either side, positioned for maximum pranking. Right on que Michael stepped past the entryway, not even getting a chance to call out before he was met with a sudden attack from both sides. He let out a rather high-pitched shriek and tried to cover his face, but unfortunately for him Evan was able to float and together with Lizzie they were able to completely cover their brother in sticky sweetness in no time flat.

“Aw, for—you got it in my hair, man!” Michael griped once the cans had been emptied and discarded on the floor. He wore a sour expression as he listened to surround-sound giggles, huffing a put-out: “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up...”

Even Gregory pointed and jeered. At first the ambush had shaken him due to the amount of times he’d been scared in the dark. Realizing the attack was on Michael for a change, he was able to see the smiling, happy faces of Elizabeth and Evan Afton proudly accosting their brother with four cans of aerosol dairy. With hands braced over his knees, Gregory was struggling to catch his breath as he laughed heartily with the little prank they played. This would serve Michael right for messing his hair up with all the noogies...

“Oh NO—your face, Michael!—” Liz tried to explain, wiping away a tear from the stress of laughing.

“His face?” Gregory asked, finally able to suck in a breath as he moved to help clean the whipped cream off Michael’s shirt. “His voice! Bro, tell me how you got your voice that high!”

Michael grumbled something unintelligible as he desperately tried to shake the whipped cream out of his hair. Even if he was annoyed, he had to admit they got him good.

“Even you, Evan?” Michael lamented when he felt tiny hands combing through the back of his head. There was only one of his siblings that could get that high, and sure enough Evan was floating just to the left of his face. Michael sighed dramatically, running a hand through his brown locks and grimacing when it came away full of dairy. “My own little brother, turning against me...”

“It's payback,” Evan responded simply, though payback for what would be something no one but him could answer. In response, Michael's forlorn expression flashed to a wicked grin and he suddenly shook his head like a wet dog, flinging whipped cream all over the diner floor and, more importantly, all of his siblings.

“So was that!” he responded, laughing at their shocked expressions.

The children had to raise their arms to block the barrage of foam flying through the air. It proved to be unhelpful as the kids were covered in the specs of froth in no time flat. Elizabeth growled, though no real anger was in her tone of voice when she said: “Quick! Do plan B!”

“What was plan B?!” Gregory asked, concerned and confused as he wasn't even told about this supposed back-up plan.

Crouched and poised for attack, Elizabeth told Gregory to: “Tackle him!”

What a betrayal, being attacked so ruthlessly by your own family members. As predicted, Gregory and Liz went for the legs as Evan had the highest vantage point to latch onto Michael and knock him off-balance.

Mike went down immediately, arms pin-wheeling for balance as he fell back onto the dusty floor. While Gregory and Lizzie tackled his legs, Evan went right for his chest, pushing against it with a round of uproarious laughter. As soon as Michael was down for the count Evan perched on top of him, grinning down at him with unbridled satisfaction.

The whole event ended up with the quartet in a messy pile on the floor, their fading laughter stilted as they tried to catch their breath. Eventually Michael turned his head to take stock of the aftermath, lifting up one of Lizzie’s strawberry-blonde curls and letting it fall back against her cheek with a gross splat! Michael snorted in amusement, satisfied his siblings got pulled into their own prank. “Serves you all right, thinking you can one-up me. Amateurs…”

Far before they’d gotten cruel, Michael’s pranks had been infamous in their little hometown. He could pull them off by himself just fine, though sometimes he’d rope Charlie or Sam into it… if they weren’t the intended victims. Evan and Lizzie picked up their skills through long-term exposure and osmosis of watching Michael work.

After all this time, Mike still hadn't lost his edge. Still as rambunctious and cunning as he was when they were children, Liz would grimace as her perfectly coiffed curls saturated with heavy whipping cream. It reminded her of the breakfast in bed fiasco on Father's Day... Her and their mother spent hours cleaning the resulting mess out of their clothes and the entirety of the kitchen.

“Liz,” Gregory said, pulling her from the now bittersweet memory—and thankfully so. “Your prank sucked.” This earned him a handful of whipped cream smushed across his nose.

“Silence, dork,” Elizabeth chirped back. “Besides, it was Cassidy that gave Evan the idea...”

“Hey! You’re the one that was all excited to get Mikey back for the other day!” Evan deflected, then blew a raspberry at her when she rolled her eyes.

“Alright… I hate being the grown up here and say it’s time to move on, but since clearly none of you are up for it I guess I have to,” Michael remarked, sitting up with a heavy sigh. Evan was shifted into his lap, upon which the ghost wrapped his arms around Michael’s torso and squeezed.

“Okaaaaay… Whatever you say, Mike,” Evan relented, gazing up at his brother with the most innocent eyes and smile as his tight hug forced some lukewarm whipped cream to completely soak through Michael’s shirt.

“Little shit!” the man gasped. As he pried his brother off, he couldn’t be too mad—Evan learned from the best, after all. Once free of clinging siblings, Michael looked down at himself with a grimace. “Okay, well, Gregory and I were going to bust you guys out of here and show you the Pizzaplex, but I think we need to take a detour to the Gift Shop first… and the bathroom.”

Evan might be able to “reset” his ghostly form and rid himself of dairy remnants, but the others needed to wash up and change before the stuff had a chance to fester. Gregory stiffened up at the mention of entering the public bathroom to wash up.

“Psh. I'm fine. I don't need to clean up.” He would brush it off, like being covered in diary wasn't going to be an issue after a half an hour when it starts to warm. Liz looked at him, a glimmer of amusement in her jeweled eyes.

“Oh yeah? You like smelling of curdled milk, then?” her posh tone inquired facetiously, earning her a sharp glare. He wanted her to let it be, yet something told Gregory that Liz wasn't the type to easily back down or take back the things she says.

“Yes,” Gregory stated firmly. “I love it. That's my favorite smell.” It was said so straight Liz might believe the lie, were it not so ridiculous.

Michael instantly realized his mistake, and mentally smacked himself for putting Gregory in an awkward position. Of course the kid would be terrified of public bathrooms after what happened last time he’d gone in one…

“You know what? Change of plans—we go to the Gift Shop, grab some new clothes, then head to the Daycare,” Michael said, getting to his feet and trying to brush off as much excess whipped cream as he could. Hopefully Henry wouldn’t mind the mess in the diner until Mike could come back and clean it up. “This stuff’s gnarly, but as long as we get it off soon I think it’d be fine if we don’t immediately take a sink shower. I guarantee Sun has a stockpile of stuff to clean up after the kids.”

“Oh, I think Puppet’s there! She’s got some new friends,” Evan piped up, following along behind as Mike started the walk back to the surface. With a quick full-body shake, Evan returned to his original dairy-free self. Not for the first time, he was glad he’d chosen to forgo his android in deference to his ghostly form.

Gregory looked to Evan with controlled jealousy. Gregory hadn't been positive, but he was sure that night in the bathroom had killed him... Only he was forced to stay in this body, and not given an incorporeal form like Evan. It still tethered him to this world and the messes he created within in. Still, Gregory would count his blessings that his heart restarted eventually. Trading that for having a mess-free life wasn't the best idea anyway.

“Yup—” Gregory agreed. “—Sun and Ennard are becoming fast friends with her.”

Liz's smile grew tight. So that was where that petty amalgamation went to. She wasn't fine to hang out with, but the spooky Puppet and the creepy old Daycare attendant were?

“Reeeally now? You don't say,” Liz asked through grated teeth. After clapping her hands together in one enthusiastic motion, she forced a grin. “Let's go visit! We need to clean up anyway. Why not?”

Michael smirked at Lizzie’s tone. Any opportunity to keep the amalgamation away was just fine with him. On their way out they stopped by the workshop to let Henry know the Afton’s were going upstairs for a while. Henry was all for it, and Michael couldn’t help but notice his poorly-contained laughter at the state of them. Apparently the old ghost had more knowledge of the plan than he let on.

With an eye roll and a sarcastic, “Thanks for the heads up, Henry,” Michael ushered the kids up to the surface. The back passageways they emerged into weren’t of great interest, but when they reached the main atrium Evan and Lizzie stopped dead in their tracks. Evan floated up next to Michael’s shoulder, gazing in awe at the flashing neon lights and signs.

“Welcome to the Mega Pizzaplex,” Mike said with a grin, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture.

“Whoa…,” was all Evan could get out, deep brown eyes reflecting the rainbow of colors around him.

Elizabeth was holding onto Evan's arm like a lifeline, her own eyes catching the neons. It was like a mall—but so much larger. All of the strip malls in the 80s were puny compared to the vision that Samuel had in mind. It was clear to Liz that despite all the time that had passed, sweet Sammy Emily was still very much a kid at heart. He knew what would captivate and amaze the masses to the point of returning again and again.

“No way...,” Liz chimed in softly. It wasn't long before she felt a tug, Gregory gently pulling the two kids forward and further into the atrium.

“Come oooon!” Gregory beckoned playfully. “There's so much to see! Let's go!”

Evan barely registered as he was moved, too entranced by the sheer size of this place and the loving nods to Sammy’s childhood. The heavy 80s theme created a weird dichotomy in Evan’s mind. He knew many, many years had passed since ‘83—though admittedly he’d stopped counting long ago—and being surrounded by such familiar colors and patterns brought him right back to the malls of his youth. Yet when he looked closer everything had a sort of sleek, technological feel to it like nothing the ghost had ever seen before.

“Hey, uh… what year is it anyway?” Evan asked, his voice small as if afraid of the answer.

“It’s 2023,” Michael replied with a soft, understanding smile. Evan’s jaw dropped, expecting the response but still not ready for it.

“Al… Almost 40 years…,” he whispered, expression twisting as he tried to process the information. He wasn’t necessarily upset about the lost time—at least, not too much—he was just shocked that things seemed to have both changed and remained the same. Although, he figured the Fazbear franchise was probably an exception to the passing of normal time. It always was.

“It looks like Back to The Future in here,” Liz compared with wide eyes. Did Evan ever watch that movie? Probably not. She only remembered watching it once when Michael was finally in a better mood. She supposed it was for the best that things looked this way. Anything beyond her comprehension would only serve to throw Elizabeth into a panic. This place—these sounds... They tightened something in her chest, winding it up and strangling what she thought was her heart.

She missed so much. How could Dad do this to her?

She, Michael, and Evan should be old together. They should be experiencing this through the eyes of nostalgic adults—yet Liz only felt like she was truly coming home for the first time after a long, stressful road trip. That was the only way she could comprehend it, by comparing it to a movie that hardly fit the description of the retro-aesthetic technological marvels she saw around them.

Gregory weaved his hand into Liz's. She had a long stare that made Gregory uncomfortable with the road she appeared to be slipping down. Even then she nearly didn't notice the kind gesture until he squeezed her hand hard.

“Yeah—but Back to the Future doesn't have pizza slushees," he remarked, earning a disgusted look from Liz.

“Oh, that’s foul!” she gasped, seeming completely serious until a smile finally broke through to show her pearly white teeth. “Where can I get one?”

“The bowling alley, but that’s our last stop because all the boring adults are hanging out there with Charlie,” Michael informed them, completely ignoring the fact that technically he too was a boring adult.

“There’s a bowling alley in here?!” Evan piped up, and it was Mike’s turn to grasp his hand and be his earthly tether. It seemed that the more excited he got, the higher he was apt to float.

“And a go-kart arena, and a mini golf course, and laser tag—not to mention a billion arcades,” Michael added with a grin. He took Lizzie’s other hand and pulled her along as well, not wanting them to get too distracted from their current destination. “Don’t worry, we’ll check everything out after we get cleaned up. You guys are going to be blown away with all the merch this place has!”

With that Michael managed to get his little group to the Gift Shop with only a few more pauses to point out interesting things. He released his sibling’s hands when they walked through the doorway, telling them: “Have at it! There’s changing rooms near the clothes. You might as well use whatever you’re wearing to squeeze what you can out of your hair—everything needs to be washed anyway…”

It took a lot to get Liz and Evan to focus. Right now the two kids were all riled up and eager to see the playground that Samuel had concocted. He always said that when his dad finally let him work at the locations, he had big plans for the place. Lizzie never quite understood everything that Sam would rattle on about, but his passion for it made her listen intently every time he spoke of his dreams. It was one of the things to admire about the Emilys. They were quiet people from afar, but get them talking about something they loved and you could watch them go on for hours...

As Liz wandered around the shop, she found accessories and trinkets that caught her eye and pocketed them for later. She had only needed a shirt, as miraculously the skirt that Henry fitted this android with was otherwise pristine. Everything stayed true to the old merchandise that once sat by the crate full in their garage, though the quality was much better than the cheap things her father made as their first round of toys and shirts. It wasn't too long before Liz found a pink shirt. With the cutest Chica logo she’d ever seen, how could she refuse?

Gregory decided to go for a shirt he had seen earlier—a muscle tee that came tumbled and “worn” in appearance. When he reached for the garment, he was surprised to find another, similar hand attempting to tug it off the rack as well.

“Oh! Good choice!” Evan laughed when he realized who he was having a mini tug of war with. Evan didn't need the shirt, but that didn't mean he couldn't admire it. Maybe he could pick one up later—he still technically had an android if he ever got tired of floating around, and he'd certainly need a variety of outfits. It was like his own soul-powered dress-up doll. He released the fabric in deferment to Gregory, grinning widely. “This stuff's so rad! Not like what they sold before—this is like... the good stuff!”

Meanwhile, Michael had swiped a similar muscle tee off the adult size rack, along with a pair of dark wash jeans with iron-ons of all the Glamrock's grinning faces down one leg. Bonnie was noticeably absent, which wasn't unexpected, although now that he was friendly again Mike wondered if he could find a loose patch that he could add himself... For now though, he rushed into a changing room and preformed the fastest quick-change the world had ever seen, not wanting to take his eyes off his siblings for a second. He emerged in his new attire, using the back of his old shirt to soak up whipped cream remnants from his hair. Lizzie's shoes could be seen in the crack under the next changing room door, so Michael focused his attention on the lookalikes.

“Find anything good?” he asked, bumping Gregory with his hip as he sidled up next to them.

Gregory teetered with the bump, but laughed it off while gesturing to Evan. “We were going to grab the same shirt—apparently the stuff here is better than it used to be.”

With the changing rooms close by, Gregory quickly slipped into the one that Michael just came from.

“No, you don't even know—” Lizzie snorted from the stall next to him, remembering when their father nearly had a nervous breakdown to find a shipment of plushies with their faced printed on the butts of all the dolls. “—Evan, remember when Dad cried because of the butt-faces?”

“The butt-faces!” Evan and Michael exclaimed in unison. They glanced side-long at each other, then simultaneously burst into laughter.

“He was yelling at that guy for hours!” Evan reminisced through giggles, vividly recalling how he'd peeked into his father's office only to find William screaming into the phone, clearly having a major communication issue with the poor soul on the other end.

At that time, William's anger hadn't been scary—no more than a typical stressed-out father's wrath was apt to get. Will had caught Evan peering around the corner with wide, terrified eyes, and only then was he able to regain his composure. After telling the man in not so kind words that he didn't think they were getting anywhere and to expect a call from his business partner tomorrow, William had moved to Evan's side and taken him out for an apology ice cream for clearly freaking the kid out. This trip had been extra special in Evan's mind, for it was one of the rare times he actually got to spend some quality time with his dad without at least one other kid hanging off his other side.

“Evan? Hey, buddy?” Michael's voice broke through the ghost's reverie. Evan came to with a start only to realize everyone was staring at him, Gregory and Lizzie having long-since emerged from the dressing rooms. To his surprise, Evan felt cold tear streaks running down his face.

“O-Oh...,” he murmured, then gave a big sniffle and wiped his face. Why did even the happy memories make him cry? He shifted his gaze to the floor, the pallor of his pale cheeks darkening the smallest bit in embarrassment. “Sorry... I'm okay, I promise. Can... Can we go to the Daycare now?”

It was so easy to be lost in the better memories, a time when things made sense and their dad had been more present. Gregory wouldn't push it, or even point out that Evan was crying—instead he slung his arm around Evan's shoulders with an encouraging grin.

“The Daycare is ridiculously fun. I don't even care if it's made for toddlers, it's like a giant playground!” he said, trying to hype Evan up now for what was likely going to be a fun time in Sun and Moon's little kingdom. “And you get to see how Puppet's doing!”

Where Gregory saw the Puppet as a guardian and friend, Liz had mixed feelings on the doll. It wasn't the Marionette's fault for not getting to Charlie in time, but for a while Lizzie resented the animatronic and wouldn't even visit the ticket counter anymore due to the secondhand shame and anger she felt when looking at it. Little did she know that if she’d just visited once, she would be visiting Charlie as well...

“Yeah! Let's go!” Evan urged, his mouth flipping into a little smile as he slipped an arm around Gregory's back, walking with his “twin” side-by-side.

Michael watched them for a moment, his face pinching with regret the second Evan's back was turned. Someday they'd sit down and have a long talk about things—about what happened in '83 and how Evan existed from then until now, unpacking decades of hurt and anger. However, at the moment they were headed to the Daycare, which was sure to perk up their spirits with its bright colors and even brighter attendant.

“We can't let those two out of our sights, Liz,” Michael murmured, slipping his hand into his sister's and gently tugging her along. “I bet they're already plotting something...”

It really was such a good feeling being able to hold hands with a family member you haven't seen in a while. It was so easy to fall back into old customs and rituals, too. Liz could almost hear their mother now, asking that Michael hold her sister's hand while they were out in public. When Mike asked why, their father would chime in to say that people would want to kidnap Elizabeth—but no one wanted to steal him. He either was too annoying or not cute enough. The joke now was supremely less funny than it was forty years ago, but the memory of being happy fueled Lizzie’s will to become happy again. So, in the spirit of celebrating how good things used to be, Liz swung their arms a little in their gait.

“I don't know—can’t say I trust new Evan,” Liz begun to scheme, thinking out loud as the boys in front seemed to get on like a house on fire while the actual dangerous combination plotted the twins’ downfall right behind their backs. “We need to strike preemptively.”

“Agreed,” Michael replied with a nod, then leaned down to whisper a suggestion in Liz's ear that had her nearly choking as she tried to hold back her laughter.

The group continued in their happy pairs, following Gregory's lead to the Daycare. The upstairs pick-up area greeted them with bright overhead lights, letting them know that Sun was currently out and about. Michael peered through the netting and caught sight of the Daycare attendant on the opposite end of the play area, seated on one of the foam blocks and gesturing wildly as he recounted stories of the little sunbeams placed under his care. Puppet and Ennard were lingering nearby, watching Sun attentively and seeming entranced by his over-exuberant way of speaking with his entire body to make up for his lack of facial expressions.

“Hey, Sun! You've got visitors!” Michael called, and Sun whipped his head in a 180 so fast it was a wonder his neck didn't snap. Mike glanced down at Lizzie, then made a split-second decision to lift her under the arms and swing her feet-first into the wide opening of the slide before she had a chance to protest.

“Be a good sis and chase Ennard away, will you?” he murmured, knowing she didn't need a bribe for such a fun opportunity. With that he gave her a little push, sending her plummeting into the darkness of the plastic tube.

“WAH!” Liz didn't expect to be thrown fast down slide. With gravity increasing her speed, Liz shot out of the tube at the other end squealing half from adrenaline and half from fun. Gosh, when was the last time she could say she'd gone down a slide right into a massive ball pit?

When she surfaced again, who else would she make direct eye contact with but the elusive Ennard themselves? Without warning, Ennard let out a high pitched and garbled shriek. Their voice positively pierced the sound barrier, its fear-soaked tone the interlude for Ennard’s escape. They flipped their body, turning all the way around to scale the wall and run for Sun's room for cover. It wholly confused both the Marionette and her newest friend. In fact, the odd-frequency Ennard emitted had her jump from her seat to cling to Sun as they watched them escape.

“Oh, that wasn't hard at all!” Liz would laugh to herself, regaining her composure and breath from the exhilaration. It wasn't long before Evan and Gregory fell in behind her. Evan would technically be the first to enter before Gregory, but the other boy was clinging to Evan's back so they could argue that they fell into the pit at the same time.

“I so made it first!” Evan exclaimed with a giddy laugh, disentangling himself from Gregory so he could wade through the ball pit, enjoying the satisfying click of the plastic.

“My goodness!” Sun exclaimed, his tone a mixture of surprise and concern as his head swiveled from the children in the ball pit, to his little room Ennard disappeared into, then to the wooden door as Michael pushed it open. “What just happened?! Our new friend's never acted like that before!”

“Oh, don't you know? Ennard's a total scaredy-cat,” Michael said with a nonchalant shrug, unable to resist the jab. Now that the amalgamation was temporarily out of the picture, he could actually enjoy some time without constant metallic breathing over his shoulder. Mike reached out for Puppet as he neared the Daycare attendant, allowing her to slither around his shoulders in greeting. “Anyway! Sun, I've got two new kids for you to play with—meet Lizzie and Evan.”

As always, Sun's attention was quickly pulled to the children in his Daycare. With a loud gasp, he pressed his palms against the sides of his face.

“Gregory, I didn't know you had a twin! What a cutie you are!” Long arms reached forward to scoop Evan up. They grasped him under the shoulders and began to lift, when suddenly—the boy was nowhere to be found. Sun stared at his empty hands, tilting his head in utter confusion. “Um... hmm. Where did you go, sunshine?”

“I... think you freaked him out,” Michael muttered, looking around as well. He should've warned Evan about Sun—or better yet, told the Daycare attendant that the kid probably wouldn't appreciate an animatronic going for his face, no matter how friendly they may be.

“I'm okay!” Evan's soft voice piped up from a completely different location, and everyone glanced down to see the little ghost fade into existence behind Mike, clinging to his leg as a shield against the touchy Sun. Despite his words, he stared at the animatronic with a wary expression.

“I'm sorry, little one—I didn't mean to scare you!” Sun apologized, deciding it best not to ask how the child had teleported at the moment. Instead he turned his attention to Lizzie, asking her tentatively: “Do you like being picked up?”

“If you try, she'll probably yell at you,” Evan added helpfully, still half-hidden behind his brother's leg, then let out a little giggle. “Or bite you. You never know with her.”

What was the point in even correcting Sun? Evan and Gregory were practically twins at this point. There was no denying it. To Gregory, it would be a little bit funny that Evan would choose to run away. He and Liz were far scarier than anything left in the Pizzeria, being actual honest ghosts.

Laughing, Gregory filed in to Michael's side, patting Evan's shoulder reassure the poor kid. It was amazing how ghosts still kept their self-preservation skills even when they had nothing left to preserve...

Elizabeth eyed the jester somewhat skeptically at first, though the rapport he had with her brother put her at ease. She would hold up her hand, symbolizing that she was willing to touch his palm in a high five as greeting for now.

“I think it might hurt my teeth if I bite him, Evan,” Liz giggled, happily touching her hand to the Sun's. “Gregory told us you love to play games!”

“Oh yes, yes!” Sun exclaimed, happy to receive positive affection from at least one of the new kids. His static grin seemed to widen as he stood up to full height, pressing long fingertips against his chest. “Games are my specialty, after all! Well, that and arts and crafts—but I love both of them equally! Do you all want to play a game?!”

“...Hide and seek?” Evan ventured, no longer cowering thanks to Gregory's reassurance. He was still a tiny bit wary simply due to the sheer size of this thing, but the attendant really did seem nothing but nice.

“Of course!” Sun agreed with a vigorous nod. “Hide and seek it is! Who wants to be the seeker first?”

“Doesn't matter to me, as long as Evan doesn't use those invisibility powers—or the teleporting,” Mike said, looking down at his brother with a raised eyebrow. “That would totally be cheating.”

“I won't!” Evan replied in a sing-song tone, hands clasped behind his back and staring at Michael with the innocent grin of an angel. Only Gregory could see the fingers crossed behind Evan's back as he made the promise.

Gregory was both equally impressed and thoroughly surprised at Evan's mischievous streak. All the Aftons had one, which meant that Gregory fit in perfectly with the rowdy bunch of kids. Gregory would keep this secret, as Evan may be kind enough to share some of that cheater’s magic with him later on.

Much to their surprise, the Puppet waved from the top of Michael's shoulders. After garnering their collective attention, she pointed to herself—since she happened to be the last one to be found last night, she would get her turn as seeker over tonight! Besides, the Puppet was very meticulous. She could find a razorblade in a grosser’s dozen of cupcakes.

“Oh no!” Liz laughed, knowing this fact to be true. “No way! You'll find us all so quickly, Puppet! I'll seek first.”

“Technically Puppet won last night,” Michael piped up with a shrug, lifting the Marionette up and down with the motion. “We were never able to find her hiding spot, so... she should seek first.”

“I can count down for her!” Sun offered with a little wave of his own. “Just give me ten extra seconds after I finish to find my own hiding spot, okay?” At the Puppet's agreeing nod, Sun clapped his hands together before reaching out to take her from Michael's shoulders. “Alright, everyone—to the count of thirty! One... two...”

And just like that, the game began. Michael didn't even have time to wish his siblings good luck before they shot off like rockets to various corners of the play area. Not wanting the mortification of being the first one found Mike did likewise, mentally grumbling at the fewer choices he had with his larger frame compared to that of the kids'. Hopefully he could find a good spot that even the Puppet would take a while to locate...

Those kids were faster than lightning. Gregory followed Evan; rules said they couldn’t hide in the same place. Carefully, Gregory would stack a large pile of those play cans that rested in towers around the Daycare. He did this as quickly as he could and with time to spare, locking himself inside a little prison of colorful stacking cans. He’d do his best to keep still, and hopefully Puppet wouldn’t notice the freshly made tower and decide to knock it down. Inside his tiny fortress, Gregory watched as Elizabeth made her way slowly and carefully into the ball pit. Her outfit was so colorful it might as well serve her as camouflage.

Lowering herself below the threshold of the pool side, Liz would slip under and wait patiently under the surface. She was happy to do so—this pit was a lot cleaner than the old Fazbear diner’s ball pit. Maybe it was awful to keep thinking of him, but Liz could almost hear her father telling her, “Sweet pea, no; it’s filthy in there. Go play elsewhere,” before being gently pulled from her excellent hiding spot.

But her father wasn’t here anymore, and wouldn’t be ever again…

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be alone right now. So far, Elizabeth hadn’t had a moment to herself to process everything that'd happened just a few days ago. Quietly, Liz wrapped her arms around her legs and hugged, self-soothing as she remained by her lonesome for now.

Ten seconds after Sun stopped his counting, an eerie silence fell over the Daycare.

It was not something Liz had noticed, depersonalizing where she was in the moment. Gregory sure had, though. The Puppet moved so quietly there was no way to tell where she was unless crawling in plain sight. However, it was clear that she wanted to surprise them when Gregory caught her sneaking and scaling up the sides of the jungle gym.

Michael managed to wedge himself in one of the plastic tubes at the last second. It was admittedly tight fit—he wasn’t nearly as flexible as Sun. Thank god he didn’t have a human body, or his back would certainly be sore tomorrow from being so twisted.

Meanwhile, Evan used the rare moment of not being watched to do a little exploring. He hadn’t explicitly been told that Sun’s room was off-limits… Besides, if anyone would be able to find him no matter where he roamed, it would be Puppet. Evan also had a second reason for his chosen hiding spot—he wanted to finally get a look at the mysterious Ennard that was obsessed with one of his siblings, yet terrified of the other.

He knew what Ennard and Liz had done to Michael. His sister told him the whole sordid truth during one of those dark, horrible nights they’d still been trapped in animatronic shells. Lizzie hadn’t wanted Evan near the unstable amalgamation, using its fear of her to shield her brother from its presence. And while he hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Michael about that incident, it was understandably clear he hated Ennard, too.

Still… Evan was an Afton, notoriously curious despite his timid nature. He knew of Ennard’s help in stopping their father, and their willingness to protect not only Mike but Gregory and Charlie as well (even if it was only at Michael’s request). Plus, Puppet liked them! Surely they couldn’t be that bad, right?

The recent escape from Sun’s clutches gave Evan a little burst of confidence—just enough for him to float up to the little stage when no one was looking and peek into the room behind. The area warmly lit by string lights was quite organized and clean, though notably empty of animatronics. However, the faintest shuffling let Evan know Ennard was still around, likely keeping tabs on the Daycare situation. Steeling his nerve, Evan clenched his little fists by his sides and whispered:

“Ennard? Hey, my siblings are gonna be SUPER mad if they know I’m here, but I wanted to say hi…”

***

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Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior—even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you— painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

#darksaber!din #dark!din #dark!din x reader #dark!din x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw fanfic #darksaber #Im so sorry #dom!din #haunted!din

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aries-writingblog · 3 years

Text

Child’s Play

Summary: Steve is falling fast for a girl that he’s only been on a few dates with (I suck at descriptions🤦🏻‍♀️)

Word Count: 1968

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: none

AN: GIF is not my own, credit to original creator

“All I’m saying is that you should really consider bringing that uniform back.” She nodded, wiping her fingers delicately on her napkin. Steve cocked an eyebrow, trying not to smile too broadly. “It did wonders for you.”

Steve lowered his eyes, heat creeping onto his face. It was a good embarrassment, though. He couldn’t remember when he last laughed so hard. Even if it was at himself. He had to agree the things he did once were a little cheesy.

“You we’re supposed to pay attention to the message. The videos had a message.” He scolded lightly, dipping a fry in his ketchup. YN scoffed, stealing two fries from the plate and dunking them in her milkshake. Steve scrunched his nose in distaste.

“I was in high school, dude. And you were hot, what was I supposed to do?” She grinned as his cheeks shifted from a shade of pink to a deeper shade of maroon. “It was detention and I was bored. I had to think of something or I’d lose my mind.”

Steve tried not too think too hard about the age difference. It jarred him to take into consideration she watched the stupid patriotic videos he had to film in her high school days. He focused mainly on the present age gap of only a few years. Not the seventy year gap.

“Okay, if I see one more fry go into that milkshake, I’ll flip this table.” Steve threatened, eyeing the drink suspiciously. YN laughed, a bright giggly sound Steve had come to enjoy.

This would be their fourth date. He had the idea to take her to an old diner he’d stumbled upon. Mainly because it had been around in his day- the coffee was still outrageously disgusting. He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to keep the same flavor the whole time but the moment it touched his tongue, Steve was thrown back into his youth.

“Just try it.” She demanded, shoving her glass across the table. He lifted his eyebrows, glancing between her and the chocolate milkshake.

“Absolutely not. The fries get soggy in there- I know they do.” He explained, observing as she rolled her eyes. Slumping back into the booth in playful defeat. “You enjoy that?”

“Uh, yeah. Get with it, gramps.” She dusted her hands off, placing her phone and wallet on the table. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick- watch my stuff?”

“Yeah- of course.” Steve watched her as she stood, pulling at her shirt before starting towards the bathroom. He then turned his attention to their mostly finished plates, stacking them neatly to one side of the table.

Just as he went to catch a waitresses attention, he looked around. They were the only two customers remaining. Steve felt the guilt immediately, seeing the women cleaning around their table. They had been so distracted he had forgotten time could pass. He flicked his wrist, checking his watch. They had been at the restaurant for way too long.

YN emerged from the restroom just at the same moment he stood to approach the register. She noticed he had taken her things, tucked in his jeans pocket. So she found her way to his side, curling her arm around his and hugging it to her chest.

He finished paying, apologized several times to the wait staff for taking the booth for so long. She had brushed it off, telling him it had been a pleasure to serve Captain America himself. Steve still felt guilty, leaving a very large tip for her.

“Ready?” He asked, turning to face YN. She gave an enthusiastic nod, clinging to him as they walked to the door. He pushed it open, holding it for her.

“It’s so late- I don’t think we’ll ever catch a cab.” YN checked her phone, the time shining up at her.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s not that far, if you’re up for it?” He offered. Steve watched as she frowned at the device in her palm, the streetlight gleaming down onto her hair. Giving her face an ethereal glow, eyes sparkling. Her lipgloss was incredibly distracting- shimmering and glittering under the lights.

“Steve?” She asked. He jolted, breaking his stare as he realized he had been zoned out while she was speaking. The heat crept back into his cheeks; He never seemed to get rid of it around her. It was always lurking under his skin, readily revealing itself at any moment.

“What?” She laughed.

“I said that I’d take that escort home, if it doesn’t put you out of your way.” She repeated. Steve shook his head immediately.

“You’re never out of my way, sweetheart.” In truth, her apartment was seventeen blocks to the east of the diner. The Tower was nineteen from the diner, to the north. Steve would’ve done pretty much anything to keep her with him longer, even walk the entire length. Carry her if she wanted.

“I just don’t want to keep you.” Her hand found his forearm again, slithering down to his hand. Her fingers twined with his and he squeezed her hand gently. “You had mentioned that you had to get up early tomorrow. I don’t want to make you late.”

“It’s just some work. Nothing drastic. Can’t leave until I get there anyways.” He assured her, their sides bumping together as their strides evened out. It was practically true- it was work and it wasn’t drastic. He had to leave early for a stake out mission with Natasha. She would eventually forgive him, if not immediately. “I might be gone for a couple weeks… I’m not sure how long it will take.”

“That’s okay.” She shrugged, swinging their arms between their bodies. “Just means our next date can be even better, cause we’ll be really excited to see each other.” Steve smiled, his free hand finding his front pocket. He was always excited to see her.

They fell silent for a moment- something that didn’t happen often. YN was a regular chatterbox when she was excited. And as far as Steve could tell, she was always excited to be around him. He didn’t mind, he loved hearing her voice. Liked listening to her. Telling him fun facts, stories, asking questions, going off on tangents. It was always amusing, watching her face go through several ranges of emotions during her stories. Hands gesturing vibrantly.

“So you’re gonna let me hang around for another date?” Steve asked, risking a glance to her. A light smile on shining lips.

“I may.” She nodded. “Depends.”

“On?” Steve pressed, nudging her with his elbow. YN pursed her lips, feigning concentration with her eyes rolling to the side.

“Well, if I finally get a good night kiss I might let you stick around.” She teased. Steve chuckled, shaking his head. He’d wanted to kiss her the first night, but didn’t want to scare her away. He was still unsure on twenty first century mannerisms, caught in between the centuries. Wanting to move into the current for her, but clinging onto the values instilled in him growing up. Remembering the awkward dates he had with girls. How he never really knew what to do.

But now that she had mentioned it, Steve figured it would be safe to push his luck.

Suddenly, YN gasped and yanked his hand- jeering off course. His feet hit grass as she released his hand. Steve looked up, seeing a playground laid out before them.

“What are you doing?” He followed her at a slower pace, watching as she leapt up. Hands catching on a set of horizontal bars. She twisted upward, hanging down by her knees.

“What- you’ve never played on a playground at midnight before?” She demanded, pushing her shirt back down. Steve laughed, standing in front of her, hands on his hips.

“Not that I can remember.” She released her hold on her shirt, hands reaching out to him. The fabric fell back down, bunching around her chest. A snippet of her dark red bra peeking over the edge. Steve snatched the end and shoved it back upward, covering her torso. “You’re gonna get hurt, YN.”

“Not if I have a superhero boyfriend here to save me.” She argued, leaning back up to take the bars. “Come on, Stevie- let loose for a while.”

He sighed, meeting her eyes as she turned herself right side up. Dangling by her hands. She gave him a pout, eyes twinkling in the park lights.

Steve stepped to her left, tucking his loose t shirt into his belt. Ensuring his hands were clasped tightly around the metal bars before pulling himself up and hanging beside her.

“There you go, now- pull your feet up and hook your knees around a bar and you can hang.” She instructed, then quickly giving him a visual reenactment. He picked it up easily, releasing his grip and turning his body upside down to hang beside hers. “You’re doing it!”

YN wiggled her body happily, figure swinging wildly. Steve reached out, hands on her waist to steady her, worried she would tilt or lose her grip.

“Take it easy, YN.” He squeezed her hips as she laughed. “I don’t think a date should end with an emergency room visit.”

“Then you definitely haven’t been on a really good date.”

“Should I be worried about that statement?”

“I wouldn’t think about it too hard.”

“Oh, for sure.” He smiled, feeling the blood begin to rush to his head. His face felt tingly as he hung beside her, pins and needles pricking at his skin. “We should probably start back, it’s getting late-“

Steve felt her hands grasp his shirt, pulling him closer. YN’s lips brushed against his before planting firmly. He grunted in surprise, hands clasped to his chest, between hers. She moved her lips slowly, gently. He could taste her lip gloss- mix of cherry and vanilla flooding his system with error messages. Brain flashing a ‘vacant’ sign before his consciousness.

“I don’t know if you’re a really good kisser or if all my blood rushed to my head but I’m really lightheaded.” She murmured, not even allowing him to go far as she spoke, lips still touching.

His wide blue eyes stared gleefully into hers, swinging himself down to his feet. Reaching to help her back to the ground next. YN huffed, readjusting her shirt before leaning to pick up her phone that had slid from her pocket whilst upside down.

“Y’know, I think my research isn’t complete yet- still not sure which caused the lightheadedness.” She pressed a finger to her lips, the gloss smudged down her chin. Steve narrowed his eyes at her grin.

“Now you’re just trying to get me to kiss you.” He clarified, able to see through her actions easily. She shrugged, as if to say ‘you caught me!’

“Only if it’s working.”

Steve chuckled, one hand grasping the back of her neck while the other found a place on her waist. Pulling her body to his. She stumbled forward, colliding with his chest as he angled her mouth up to his. Leaning down to meet her height. He pressed them together, cradling her body. His fingers tangled in her hair. YN’s fingers curled into his shirt, finding purchase in the fabric. He felt her lips curl upward in a smile, still pressed to his.

He pulled back, keeping his eyes on her face as he did. A happy, dazed smile on her features- eyes crinkled in the corners. Her fingers drummed against his chest in time with his heartbeat as she ripped herself away. Breaking into a full sprint across the grassy playground.

“Race you to the swings!” She shouted over her shoulder, feet pounding the ground.

Steve chuckled. For once, he didn’t feel the need to be an adult, to be the mature, responsible one. He could turn everything off- even if only for a few minutes. Even if it was something as simple as sprinting across a playground with a girl that was slowly changing his life and perspective. He decided he liked that feeling.

“You asked for it, sweetheart!”

#Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader

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appleflavoredkitkats · 3 years

Text

Manipulation of the Most Vulnerable

An Analysis of Fundy’s Dream in Las Nevadas Episode 3

i. INTRODUCTION

This essay is going to be analyzing the entirety of Fundy’s portion in Las Nevadas’ third episode. Like always, do not view this essay as gospel as I am not a flawless human being; I am merely giving my own personal opinions and thoughts about the scene. Additionally, all the people referred to in this essay pertains to the content creators’ fictional counterparts on the Dream SMP.

If you enjoy the essay, or just want to support me in general, reblogging the essay will mean so much to me! I work hard on these essays, so I do hope you get to enjoy them.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: manipulation, mentions of past violence, terrible mental states, possibly c!Quackity critical, insecurities, and self-worth issues

ii. QUACKITY’S BLATANT MANIPULATION AND THE DREAM SEQUENCE

What is a Legacy?

Legacy (ˈle-gə-sē)

“Something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.”

As we begin discovering one’s purpose in life, naturally, we do anything in our power to fulfil them. But as we begin to do more, to get closer and closer to achieving our sense of purpose in this world, sometimes we have to ask ourselves: Is it enough? How much have I truly changed and impacted through my life’s purpose? Will what I do be deemed worthy enough for people to remember me by? Is this my legacy?

What is a legacy?

If you are a Hamilton fan like me, you might look at that and respond with “it’s planting seeds in a garden we never get to see.” But truly, what is a legacy? Can our legacies simply be defined by everything we’ve achieved in our lifetime no matter how big or small they might be, or is it defined by creating notable shifts in society that people will remember you by for centuries and centuries?

[full essay is under the cut! it’s 7k words :0]

To Quackity, your legacy is what something history remembers you by. Quackity is a very caring man, and at first, he believed he could guarantee his safety through pacifism. But after his conversation with Wilbur, he realized that the only way he can gain peace is through power, and to gain power, one has to be violent. That is the only way he could make a change in the Dream SMP, to guarantee his safety. He has to make as much noise as possible before he can finally lay low and rest.

And if his plans do succeed, if he can finally bring peace in the SMP despite achieving it through very torturous means, then he can have a wondrous legacy people can remember him by. To me, I’m not exactly sure if he prioritizes his safety through gaining power or his legacy more, but either way, a great legacy may be a byproduct of his plans for peace if executed correctly.

If he succeeds in creating a positive legacy for himself, a positive legacy for Las Nevadas, then there is a chance that he may guarantee that other people who join him may have a similar legacy as well.

This is what he promises to Foolish, Purpled, and Fundy. These three, in Quackity’s eyes, are people with the potential of being something, but have stayed on the sidelines for too long. So, knowing that the entire SMP has lacked recognition and respect for these three members, Quackity gives them a misleading ultimatum: Join Quackity and have a chance to finally be highly recognized in the SMP, or deny his request and become nothing.

The truth is, our legacies as human beings don’t have to be defined by how remembered we are if we don’t want it to be that way. But with Quackity’s charm and with how vulnerable Foolish, Purpled, and Fundy are, it’s easy for Quackity to make them believe whatever he tells them to believe.

Fundy’s Low Self-Worth

Out of the three, I think Fundy established his low sense of self-worth for the longest time. Ever since L’Manberg, it’s evident that Fundy didn’t like being infantilized by anyone. Despite this, Fundy is seen to appeal to any bout of recognition he can get. Whether it’d be Quackity giving him more recognition than Wilbur during the Elections, or Schlatt complimenting him on his hard work for Manberg, or him appreciating anyone who claims they want to adopt him, Fundy will easily appeal to recognition and praise. I’d even argue that he dictates his own self-worth depending on how much people give him recognition.

And now, with Fundy being the most isolated and alone he has ever been, he is very much vulnerable to, well, anything, really. If Quackity decides to manipulate Fundy to join Las Nevadas, he doesn’t have to do much. Even the smallest bouts of recognition, the smallest threats, the smallest anything can be enough to push him to do whatever Quackity wants because, again, Fundy is currently at his lowest state possible.

While I’ll discuss more on Quackity’s manipulation tactics later, we can easily denote how little Quackity did to make Fundy feel pressured enough to agree to his request. Fundy’s entire portion was literally thirteen minutes long. As much as Fundy stuttered and protested a bit when Quackity told him he didn’t matter, Fundy was mostly silent during the last few scenes.

Fundy depends on other people to dictate his self-worth, so when he’s the most alone he’s ever been, of COURSE he clings onto the first opportunity he gets to finally be remembered once again. No matter how many times he’s been warned by Phil and his dreams, no matter how much he can protest against Quackity, Fundy realizes that this is the best opportunity he can get to receive even an ounce of recognition.

Even if it is, well, fake. It’s better than nothing, he supposes.

Was the Quackity We Saw Real?

From what I’ve understood, I think that it is heavily implied that Fundy’s dream sequence will become a reality. At 1:16:42 of Quackity’s stream, Dream!Quackity says, “Fundy! My good ol’ friend, how’ve you been?” which is exactly the same thing the real Quackity says in 1:25:57.

Additionally, a lot of Quackity’s word choices in Fundy’s dream sequence make so much more sense if you applied them in real life. This is how I believed the entire dream sequence could be applied to reality: Fundy wakes up in the same home with Quackity outside of his door. They stroll through nature for a while before approaching the remains of L’Manberg. While their conversation about the decorations might’ve been done above the crater, I think that the entire Camarvan scene was set in Eret’s museum, something not too far away from the crater. Afterwards, the last scene takes place they return back to L’Manberg, entering Eret’s abandoned tower.

I’m going to list down everything said that could possibly hint that this dream sequence will happen in real life. There’ll also be some additional notes for certain quotes I’d love to expound on.

“Take a walk with me, take a little walk with me. Don’t you enjoy the fresh air? Don’t you enjoy the beautiful outdoors? I sure do.” - Quackity, 1:16:52-1:17:01

If we substitute the current scenery with where Fundy’s home actually is, I do think it makes a lot more sense as Fundy kind of lives in the middle of the woods.

“What do you mean ‘how am I here’, Fundy? I found you! It’s exactly what I wanted to do- was to find you. And you know- you’re a hard person to find. But I’m glad I found you!” - Quackity, 1:17:16-1:17:27

Fundy has recently built a new house in the middle of the woods and has not told anyone in the SMP about his whereabouts. Again, if you substitute the current scenery with Fundy’s actual home, then what Quackity’s saying makes a lot more sense.

“Fundy, don’t you enjoy the great outdoors? It feels so free! It feels so full of life, full of energy, don’t you think, Fundy?” - Quackity, 1:17:37-1:17:49

Something something, substitute the scenery with the forest Fundy lives in, something something.

“What is this place?”

“Fundy, you should know this place better than anyone. You should know it better than anyone, Fundy, what do you mean ‘what is this place’? You should know it better than anyone else, Fundy. You and me, actually! You don’t remember what this place is, what it means? Come on, don’t tell me you already forgot.” - Fundy and Quackity, 1:18:03-1:18-26

If this was set above the crater, this piece of dialogue also makes sense.

“What is all of this doing here? It was gone, it was blown up-”

“This was home, Fundy, it was home! No, Fundy, it’s always been here, we’ve always been here. You and me, we’ve always been here.” - Fundy and Quackity, 1:19:48-1:20:01

To explain the Camarvan- I do think that there’s a possibility that they entered Eret’s museum and viewed it from there. Additionally, Quackity’s response can still be applied in the real world if you interpret his statements as “Well, it’s blown up, but we still consider this place as home! ‘Home’ still exists, you know?”.

While we can’t fully confirm whether Fundy’s real meeting with Quackity went as it did in the dream, I do think that something would have happened in a similar fashion. After all, we did see Fundy at the end of Foolish’s stream “Las Nevadas - Dream SMP (LORE)” at Las Nevadas. Maybe he was also manipulated and offered the same thing Dream!Quackity offered in real life?

Quackity’s Manipulation

Here comes the juicy bit. If we assume that what Quackity did in Fundy’s dream will also happen in real life, then I will refer to everything in that dream as fact, okay? Now, I think it’s clear to everyone that Quackity is a really good manipulator. He is meticulous with his word choice and can make his statements sound believable through his charm.

I’ll try explaining all the tactics he uses here, then later, I’ll list down everything Quackity says and try to connect it back to different manipulation tactics I’ve mentioned.

The tactic Quackity uses the most is how he uses pronouns. When Quackity refers to himself with the “I” pronoun, he always seems to present as a good friend to Fundy, as Fundy’s savior. This can also be applied when he uses the “we” pronoun as he implies that certain accomplishments were only achieved when Fundy did it WITH Quackity. When he refers to Fundy using the “you” pronoun, he always does it to remind Fundy of certain mishaps and mistakes. As if to say that these awful situations were Fundy’s fault, not Quackity’s. This tactic is mostly used for victims of manipulation to believe that their manipulators are their saviors, that their manipulators can do no wrong. At the same time, they begin to doubt their own selves as their manipulators continuously associate these victims with negative words.

Another tactic Quackity uses is praise and speaking on behalf of Fundy. It doesn’t happen as much as the first tactic, but at certain parts, Quackity seems to be instructing Fundy what he’s feeling. That he doesn’t matter, that he won’t be remembered; you don’t even notice that Fundy barely even spoke in the dream sequence because Quackity mostly spoke on his behalf. Additionally, during the L’Manberg scenes, Quackity continuously praised Fundy. Not only does the constant praise butter Fundy up, but it also preys on Fundy’s insecurities. If Fundy depends on others to dictate his self-worth, then of COURSE Quackity praising Fundy could be easily seen as manipulation as Quackity uses Fundy’s insecurities for his own advantages.

Another tactic Quackity uses is that he constantly brings up their past of working together to make it seem like it’s them versus the rest of the world. Never has Quackity looked like the flawed person in the conversation. Never has Quackity brought up the fact that they’ve fought multiple times in New L’Manberg . Quackity made it seem like that the others were in the wrong, that they were both victims of unfortunate circumstances, but Quackity always remarked that they were able to make it through everything together.

Lastly, this is less frequent, but at certain parts of the sequence, Quackity outright ignores questions uttered by Fundy and changes the subject to talk about something else. Literally just ignored him. Do I even have to explain why Quackity ignoring Fundy could possibly be a manipulation tactic to make Fundy feel more inferior?

Now, there are probably more manipulation tactics I’ve missed, but granted, I am NOT in any way an expert and wouldn’t know the specifics when it comes to gaslighting. Even then, we can all agree that Quackity is, indeed, manipulating Fundy, and to further expound on this, I’m going to list down every single line or action done by Quackity and explain why they could be considered as manipulation.

I do want to mention that, when viewing some of these lines alone, they may not SEEM to be manipulative, but we also have to consider that successful manipulation and gaslighting is a gradual process. A single, harmless-seeming line can be damaging when you view the full scope of things.

“Fundy! My good ol’ friend, how’ve you been?” - Quackity, 1:16:42-1:16:46

A lot of the quotes here are going to follow the first tactic I’ve mentioned where Quackity continuously uses first-person pronouns to make Fundy think positively when it comes to Quackity, but uses second-person pronouns to antagonize Fundy.

“What do you mean ‘how am I here’, Fundy? I found you! It’s exactly what I wanted to do- was to find you. And you know- you’re a hard person to find. But I’m glad I found you! I think that’s the most important thing: that we are here together now. And I am finally speaking to you- I think that’s the greatest thing!” - Quackity, 1:17:16-1:17:35

This, I think, is the first comment from Quackity that screams “SUS.” While we can interpret it in a literal sense, we can also view it in a metaphorical sense. Quackity is claiming that Fundy is hard to find, but despite the difficulty, Quackity found him! Amongst everyone in the SMP, it’s Quackity who is the first to find him! That’s what Quackity wants Fundy to believe: that Quackity is his savior for finding him, that it’s better for Fundy to even be here WITH him. The “greatest thing”, apparently, is Quackity being able to speak to Fundy, and nothing else.

“Fundy, don’t you enjoy the great outdoors? It feels so free! It feels so full of life, full of energy, don’t you think, Fundy?” - Quackity, 1:17:37-1:17:49

While I’m not sure if this counts, I do think Quackity’s insistence that Fundy enjoys the great outdoors kind of implies that Quackity is speaking on behalf of Fundy. Additionally, he doesn’t even let Fundy reply to his question? At the beginning, he repeatedly asks Fundy how he is, but he never gives Fundy an opportunity to reply. Either Fundy seems too dazed out of thought, or Quackity immediately interrupts Fundy and says something else.

Now we get to the “you” pronouns. Quackity repeatedly insists that Fundy should have known better, or Fundy should have had better memory. This adds onto the idea that Quackity attributes positive ideas to himself, but whenever something’s wrong, he blames it on Fundy.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember that place right there? When we had the huge elections? Or how about… Fundy, do you remember when we tried to kill Technoblade and we failed? That’s where I got my scar! What about the festival? Do you remember the festival, Fundy? The balloons and the decorations. I never had anything to do with the decorations, Fundy, I- I just… sat back and watched people do it because I’m not good with decorations but… you know.” - Quackity, 1:18:29-1:19:05

Now, Quackity begins to remind Fundy about their joint past together. While not seemingly manipulative, Quackity is basically trying to remind Fundy that there are multiple instances in the past where they were allies, implying that now, they must still be allies. Quackity is trying to remind Fundy that they worked best when they were together, giving Fundy the impression that Quackity is someone to be trusted. It doesn’t help when later on, we realize that Quackity is doing all this sweet talk only for him to convince Fundy to join Las Nevadas. Additionally, during Quackity’s spiel, he continues to ignore a lot of Fundy’s remarks and questions.

“What about the elections? You were part of the elections, do you remember? You were- you ran for president too!”

“I did! And I got the worst votes. I did not even get close…”

“But you tried and I think that was the most important thing. You ran with Niki and you made the Coconut party.”

“Yeah! We tried.” - Quackity and Fundy, 1:19:14-1:19:36

Quackity’s buttering him up. Most people tend to ignore Fundy and Niki’s party in the elections, and I think this is the first time I’ve seen someone acknowledge it in a positive manner? Again, Fundy thrives when receiving recognition, so complimenting him is an easy way for Quackity to get Fundy to trust him. But of course, he has to keep compliments to a minimum because he doesn’t want Fundy feeling too confident about himself.

“Is that what I think it is? It’s the van, Fundy! Do you remember all the great memories we had in the van?”

“What is all this doing here? This is crazy!”

“No, this is home, Fundy! This is home.”

“What is all of this doing here? It was gone, it was blown up-”

“This was home, Fundy, it was home! No, Fundy, it’s always been here, we’ve always been here. You and me, we’ve always been here.” - Quackity and Fundy, 1:19:41-1:20:02

Quackity is asserting that a lot of good memories were born from the van. Granted, he does acknowledge that they’ve had some arguments in the van later on, but their conversation seemed too… optimistic. Quackity convinces Fundy that they’ve shared a lot of good experiences when they were in the van together even if we KNOW that in NLM, most of the time, they only used the van when they had to discuss an awful issue. But Quackity here is convincing him that them working together in this van was HOME to Fundy. He’s convincing Fundy that he can always find a home in their friendship when we know that’s probably false.

“The amount of times we came here when we were incredibly stressed, but we always- we always figured out a way, I mean, I guess.”

“We always figured out a way, Fundy, we always figured out a way.” - Fundy and Quackity, 1:20:15-1:20:26

And see? The manipulation is working. Fundy’s beginning to look at his past with a positive light because Quackity’s trying to convince him that all the experiences they’ve shared together are great. And Quackity agrees to Fundy’s statement! Again, he’s building up Fundy’s trust in Quackity by convincing him that their moments together in the past were all sunshine and rainbows.

“Oh that brings back memories- I mean, I don’t know if they’re good memories- It’s literally a drug lab, but… yeah, you know-”

“Everything is good memories, Fundy. All the experience and everything we did together. You know I wasn’t here for the start but I was sure part of everything, you know, towards the end, when it was all, you know, just blatantly destroyed. But it’s here now! That’s what matters is that it’s here, and that it’s never actually gone.” - Fundy and Quackity, 1:20:41-1:21:09

And here’s Quackity reaffirming that yes, every experience we had in the past is good, and that we should acknowledge them as good memories. Fundy seemed like he was going to doubt the goodness of his memories, but Quackity immediately interjects, convincing him that it is. He tells Fundy that their moments together is really all that matters. These so-called “good memories” still exist, and Quackity implies that these memories can still live on because their friendship is still as stable as it was in the past. Something something, Quackity convinces Fundy that their friendship is good so he can build trust and get Fundy to do whatever he wants later on, something something.

“Fundy do you remember when- when L’Manberg was destroyed? It was blown up to pieces!”

“Everything was gone. It was done multiple times. Every time it was reb-”

“There was nothing we can do about it. There’s nothing we can do about it- unless you can do something about it.” - Quackity and Fundy, 1:21:22-1:21:41

Now here’s where Quackity begins to ask something from Fundy. Here, Quackity’s seen leading Fundy to Eret’s tower, so you know things are about to go down. Here, Quackity implies Fundy can do something about this cycle of violence, but what Quackity wants Fundy to do seems kind of… vague. He’s leading Fundy on, motivating Fundy he can do something, but not mentioning what he can actually do. This is so that afterwards, when Quackity presents his plan, Fundy may believe that it may help stop the cycle of violence in the SMP. Additionally, Quackity implies that all of this depends on Fundy, so Fundy may feel obligated to accept the plan, but in reality, Quackity may be possibly recruiting Fundy for his own benefit.

“Look, look up! It’s a tower.”

“The amount of battles we’ve fought from up here… down on Dream and Technoblade as well.”

“Yeah, Fundy! You remember that, right?”

“Yeah, I do!”

“Remember all these things we did for our country. It was great!” - Quackity and Fundy, 1:21:52-1:22:13

This is like the millionth time Quackity asks if Fundy remembered a certain “good” experience they had, as if he really wanted Fundy to believe that they were genuinely good memories. And here, we finally see Fundy respond positively, now fully believing that these memories were, indeed, great. It seems like Quackity has finally gotten Fundy to trust him completely by this point.

“But you know what, Fundy? Those memories don’t matter. None of that matters, Fundy. All these structures, all these things we’ve built together- it’s here now, but it’s really gone! And none of it matters, nor will it ever matter. Fundy, if you think about it, YOU don’t matter.” - Quackity, 1:22:18-1:22:46

Here we go, boys. Quackity begins to reveal his true intentions to Fundy. Here, he practically confirms that he doesn’t actually think highly of those past experiences as much as he claimed he did earlier. Again, all of it was a ploy for him to get Fundy to trust him, and now, Quackity begins to reveal his true plans. Additionally, Quackity begins discussing legacies again, or I guess, his perception of what a legacy is. This view on legacies is honestly quite an awful perspective for Fundy as he already has trouble finding a sense of self-worth on his own. Now that Quackity is telling him that he’s nothing unless he does something about it, Fundy’s perception on self-worth will become even more skewed.

“Along with all these structures and everything in ‘em, you’re gonna fade away just like it. Do you see how the sand in the winds slowly deteriorates the structure that we stand upon right now? That’s what’s gonna happen to you, but it’s not gonna be sand and wind, it’s gonna be time, Fundy. It’s gonna be time. You don’t matter, Fundy, that’s what you have to realize. You WON’T matter if you don’t change things up. That’s why you’re in the position that you’re in right now.” - Quackity, 1:22:49-1:23-26

Again with the same legacy talk. As much as we know that Quackity is a master manipulator, I still wonder if he genuinely wants to provide Fundy a real legacy, or is trying to use Fundy to benefit his own legacy. Either way, no matter how genuine Quackity’s concerns are, this perspective on self-worth is still a toxic philosophy for someone like Fundy who needs to learn that self-worth depends on yourself and not some other factors like other people and legacies.

Also, gotta mention that he’s doing the pronoun switch again. He didn’t say “I think you don’t matter,” he says, “YOU don’t matter”. It’s very subtle, but Quackity switching pronouns means he’s trying to emphasize that these horrible things Fundy is experiencing is Fundy’s fault entirely.

“But, you know what? It doesn’t have to be that way, and I can help you. I have big plans, Fundy. I have big plans… and, you know what? As a fellow cabinet member, I wanna bring you in on these plans because I know the experience you have. I know what you’ve been through because I’ve been through it as well. You can change things and be something. You don’t have to end up like this structure: alone, destroyed, nothing else to it. Fundy, Fundy, all you have to do is join me. Join me in my projects. I’ll give you the tools to succeed. I’ll give you the tools to finally be someone because you’re nobody right now. Nothing’s gonna happen if you let time take you away, Fundy. I can help you be someone. You can join me, Fundy. You can join me in the things that I’m doing. And I know you have the capacity to do big things, but the way things are right now, you’re not gonna be anything. You’re never gonna be anything. You’re gonna end up just like this building. You’re gonna end up alone. You’re gonna let time take you away. You’re going to die, and no one is going to remember you… just like it happened in L’Manberg. You understand now what I’m saying Fundy?”

“What do you expect me to do? What do you expect me to do?”

“Take the tools that I’m giving you, Fundy. Take the tools and do something big. I’m offering them to you right now. You can have ‘em. You can be someone else. You can be someone big. Fundy, I’m gonna give you ten seconds to decide.” - Quackity and Fundy, 1:23:46-1:25:31

And this is quite long, but notice the shift in pronouns. When using “you” like in the previous quote, Quackity attributed it with something negative, but now he’s using “I” and he’s attributing it to something positive. He claims that while Fundy might be in a terrible position, Quackity can save him, can help him.

Additionally, Quackity is trying to speak on Fundy’s behalf once more. He claims that he understands, describing what Fundy might possibly feel like in thorough detail. Now that Fundy trusts him, Fundy can’t protest. Sure, he did utter a few murmurs, but by the end of Quackity’s spiel, he somewhat agrees.

And he offers him the misleading ultimatum: join Quackity, or you will be nothing. With the amount of times Quackity has planted that Fundy is the cause of his own demise and the amount of times Quackity poses as a solution to Fundy’s own problems, of COURSE Fundy feels pressured to accept the offer. Even if he was warned by the book, even if Fundy is possibly smarter than what he leads on, Fundy was extremely gaslit to the point where he thinks accepting the offer is the most ideal choice. And that’s what he (presumably) does. He accepts it.

iii. POSSIBLE SYMBOLISMS

Just like Fundy’s first Las Nevadas lore stream, this stream is also littered with possible symbolisms. So, I’ll try my best to explain them all.

Experience Points and Numbers

Now, I want to emphasize that as much as I am a mathematics nerd, I may be calculating this incorrectly. But anyway, Fundy is seen to have two different levels: 3 in the overworld, and 7 in his dream.

Let’s focus on the overworld first:

So, as much as I’d like to dig into the number 3, I do think we have to take note of the EXP more than the level Fundy’s on. To get to the third level, you’d need 27 EXP. To calculate for the remaining, we have to denote that he needs 13 EXP to get to the next level. We have to note down that approximately 15/18 bars are filled, so 15/18 of 13 is approximately 11. I can get more into detail about the extra few bars filled, but trust me, it results in the same number when we round it off anyway, so we don’t need to explain that. Anyway, 11 + 27 = 38. 38 is a very familiar number, don’t you think? It’s the number of potatoes Fundy had in the “Fundy’s Mind” stream!

According to angelnumber.org, the number 38 means the following:

“The combination of these two numbers makes the number 38 a number which signifies joy and optimism, courage, finding creative ways to materialize abundance, reality, etc.

The essence of the number 38 in numerology are different kind of relationships, such as romantic ones, business partnerships, teamwork, cooperation, diplomacy, etc.

Number 38 people have a talent for dealing with people in a caring and creative way. They are born team-workers. They need interaction with other people to fully enjoy their lives. They are usually optimistic and have a gift of inspiring others to action.”

Needing interaction from other people, they say? Interactions that even come from people like business partners? And afterwards, they can materialize abundance, like financial success?

Besides that, if we connect the number 38 to gambling, 38 is very prominent in a game of roulette as in the American style of roulette, there are thirty-eight pockets in one wheel.

Now, what about Fundy’s level in the dream?

We can think of 7 as somewhat of a lucky number when it comes to poker as it connects to the lucky number 7 in slot machines.

If we want to look more into this, we gotta calculate for the EXP. To get to the seventh level, we need 91 EXP. To calculate for the remaining EXP, we have to denote that we need 21 EXP to get to the eighth level. Approximately, 8/18 bars are filled up, so we have to find the 8/18 of 21. 8/18 of 21 = 9.33333, or rounded off, it’s 9. Add 9 to 91, we get the perfect number 100.

According to angelnumber.org, the number 100 means the following:

“The angel number 100 signifies infinite potential, self – determination, isolation, wholeness, self – sufficiency and independence.

People who resonate with this number are very independent and self –sufficient.

They enjoy exploring new things and gaining knowledge. They don’t mind being alone and doing the things they enjoy. This number brings them leadership qualities and openness.”

This is interesting because the meaning here completely contradicts the meaning of the number 38. To me, I feel like this represents how Fundy is able to heal and to overcome his self-worth issues. He may feel like he needs to depend on other people, but in reality, Fundy’s self-worth can completely be honed by himself. This represents a Fundy who is finally able to find the true worth in himself without depending on other people’s input. But for now, this reality remains in Fundy’s head, in Fundy’s dreams, and he needs to find a way to make this become his true reality.

Additionally, going back to the gambling motif, 100 is the highest possible poker chip one can have when gambling. This can direct back to Fundy’s connections to Quackity, the person with the highest authority in Las Nevadas.

Color Symbolism (The Importance of Orange)

I’ve established this in an essay in the past, but orange is an important color to Fundy. If I remember correctly, cc!Fundy’s favorite color is orange, so I’d like to believe that, for Fundy, orange would represent “happiness” or “safety”.

The first time we see orange in his portion is actually outside of his dream: his bed.

And it’s quite interesting because in Fundy’s “Fundy’s Mind” stream, these three beds all used to be orange. From my understanding, these two extra beds were meant to represent two other people Fundy may consider as friends. In the “Fundy’s Mind” stream, Fundy showed that only Ranboo and Niki were online, implying that the two extra beds were for them. If orange is meant to represent happiness, then it's implied he viewed Niki and Ranboo as his source for happiness.

But now, the two beds next to him are white, implying that he lost his sources of happiness. As if he had stopped communicating with Niki and Ranboo entirely.

Other places we see orange are in the dream itself.

Instead of the typical yellow sand desert we expect from Fundy’s dreams, we see a badlands biome. Yes, the name of the sand is “Red Sand”, but I don’t care because it just LOOKS orange, okay? It’s interesting that instead of yellow, the desert poses as Fundy’s favorite color. Orange is a safe color for Fundy, but we also have to remember that this is still a desert. Under the guise of Fundy’s favorite color is something that represents isolation and loneliness - fitting for a stream that’s about manipulation, no?

Additionally, on the way to the ruins of L’Manberg, Fundy and Quackity are guided with blue lanterns.

Blue is orange’s complementary color. We can think of it as orange’s opposite, representing everything that orange does not represent for Fundy. So, if blue can represent something that isn’t happiness and safety, and Quackity is leading Fundy to follow these blue lanterns, then these blue lanterns can be seen as a sign of deceit, of danger. And Fundy follows them anyway.

Entering the Camarvan

This was incredibly subtle, but I find it interesting that Quackity was able to open the Camarvan’s doors when Fundy has mentioned he was never able to do it in his own dreams. This can lead back to the idea that Quackity wants to present himself as someone great, as someone akin to a savior to Fundy. Because if Fundy can’t access the Camarvan in his dreams, and Quackity can, then he might view Quackity as superior in some way. He’s weak, he can’t do anything, but Quackity can, so naturally, he thinks of him as superior.

In the Shadows

This one is the most obvious, but by the end of Fundy’s portion, Quackity is seen slowly inching closer and closer to the shadows. To me, this represents that Fundy isn’t going to be uplifted by Quackity’s offer at all. Quackity is literally dragging him into the shadows even more, which is ironic considering the fact that he stated that he will help Fundy become more recognized. But the metaphor speaks volumes: Quackity is going to pull Fundy into a dark, dark place. His offer isn’t as nice as it sounds, and Fundy needs to be incredibly careful.

Hiding His Inventory

When Fundy wakes, he completely hides his inventory. He does this a lot throughout the stream, and while I don’t want to overanalyze since I know this might just be a cinematic choice, I can’t help but feel like this is a metaphor for Fundy losing himself. We don’t see his hand, we don’t see his inventory, his health or anything, we just see his surroundings, and most importantly, we see Quackity. Only Quackity.

iv. HARKENING BACK TO THE “FUNDY’S MIND” STREAM

As much as we still have many questions about the semantics of Fundy’s dreams, I do think there are a few things from this stream that did clarify certain aspects of the first stream. If not, there are at least certain parallels that we can’t exactly ignore either.

Quackity is the Forewarned “Him”

Do not join him.

Whatever he asks of you.

Do NOT join him.

his plans aren’t as nice as they sound.

his intentions aren’t what you think they are.

he will use you

he will destroy you

everything you ever loved

everyone you ever cared about

do not join him

This one is pretty self-explanatory. At this point, I do want to think that Quackity is, indeed, the “him” being referred to here. I do want to keep my mind open for future possibilities as the Dream SMP is littered with red herrings, but for now, it just makes the most sense that the book is referring to Quackity.

Additionally, from what the book mentions, it seems like Quackity doesn’t genuinely want to help Fundy. To be fair, we can’t fully be sure that Quackity’s intentions are purely evil, but the book does imply that Quackity only views Fundy as another pawn.

The Dangers of Sleeping for Too Long

The signed book in Fundy’s first dream seems to imply that there are consequences to staying in the dream world for too long. In my opinion, Fundy’s dream in Las Nevadas’ third episode shows what might possibly happen if Fundy stays for too long. The more Fundy uncovers the truths about his future, the more he gets exposed to traumatizing experiences like the one he had with Quackity.

Additionally, it’s been hinted by Fundy that when he wakes, he can’t exactly remember what his dream is about, but he can recall the emotions he’s felt while having them. So, if Fundy can only remember what he felt while dreaming, then the dread and horror he felt while witnessing nightmares pass over. The main con of this is that even if Fundy witnesses these future-predicting events in his dream, he won’t be able to avoid them when he wakes because he can’t remember them. So, all his dreams can do is literally traumatize him. No matter how many times it can warn him about Quackity, Fundy won’t even remember them. All he can remember is a sense of dread which only makes him more vulnerable in real life as his mental state worsens.

Hooded Figure

This kind of fits under the symbolism category, but to me, it’s interesting that both the hooded figure in the first dream and Quackity in the most recent dream kind of have the same blocking. Fundy goes outside and a figure waits for him, standing directly across Fundy’s door.

If the hooded figure is Quackity, it is interesting that they chased Fundy as if intending to murder him. Again, another warning for us to not trust Quackity.

v. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR FUNDY?

In the middle of writing this, Fundy decided to do a lore stream where he finally joins Las Nevadas, so we kinda know what’s going to happen. That lore stream was pretty interesting because a lot of the manipulation tactics I’ve mentioned earlier were used by Quackity once more to further convince Fundy to stay in Las Nevadas.

That’s not to say Quackity doesn’t genuinely believe in all the words he’s said to Fundy. I do think Quackity does believe in his statements on legacy and loneliness, but the thing we have to question is whether Quackity genuinely cares about Fundy’s wellbeing wholeheartedly. Because, let me be frank: if Las Nevadas ever gets terrorized, and Fundy’s life would be in danger, I don’t think Quackity would genuinely want to save him. It’s already heavily implied that Fundy is going to be used by Quackity, but I’m genuinely curious as to why. We know Quackity does want him to work there, but what are the specifics? What specific role does he want Fundy to play? Why is he going so far as to give Fundy a plot of land just for him to stay? What does Quackity specifically want from Fundy?

Again, I’m not sure, and all will be revealed in the future, but just know that I do not trust Quackity at all. He may have some true intentions but we know Quackity will do anything as long as it benefits whatever plan he has up his sleeve.

And I have to emphasize that if Fundy ever has a breakdown or experiences a traumatic event, it is NEVER going to be his fault. Because as much as we can say that “Fundy is bringing his own demise,” we have to remember that Quackity is the real mastermind behind anything that happens in Las Nevadas. Believing Fundy or any of Las Nevadas’ coworkers are at fault for something Quackity enabled is exactly what Quackity wants us to believe.

Again, if any of the Las Nevadas members ever have a mental breakdown, or lose a canon life, there’s a good chance that Quackity knew this was going to happen and allowed it to happen in the first place. All coworkers at the moment are victims of Quackity’s manipulation, and we always have to keep that in mind.

vi. CLOSING REMARKS

Like I mentioned earlier, I am not a saint, so please do not view this essay as gospel. If you do enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog, and share it to other people! I’d appreciate any amount of support I get! If you want to discuss this topic further, feel free to message me or reply to this post!

Special thanks to Fundy, Quackity, and everyone else who participated in this lore stream. Additional special thanks to Alyssa for beta reading! :D

#fundy #dream smp #mcyt #quackity critical #long post #dream smp analysis #dsmp analysis

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not-another-parable · 2 years

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The End Is Never The End Is LOADING...

This is the story of a video game called The Stanley Parable. The Stanley Parable was a successful 2013 video game, that had recently been granted a full remake. Ultra Deluxe, they called it! New endings, new content, new characters! Who doesn't like new, better, more? Wait,... wait, this isn't Ultra Deluxe. Is it? Is this really the same building players came to know and love? Since when does The Narrator have an office, or a body, for that matter? And why do various strangers keep finding themselves wandering the game's halls?

((Rules/Things to Know:

-No godmodding. At least, not without some Prior Discussion, in notes or OOC chat, for whatever reason

-While I am okay with darker topics and NSFW, I would appreciate if any plans for these were discussed Before/at the start of the RP, or if said RP was confined to private messages. All potential triggers will be properly tagged, please don't hesitate to ask me to tag something for you/a friend!

-The game’s inhabitants have all the time in the world to explore the officescape. Unfortunately, I don't have all the time in the world to immediately write out each detail of it. I may fall asleep or vanish for a while between responses; I apologize in advance, and want to emphasize that any possible inactivity does not equal disinterest!

The Cast:

All characters currently unlocked by players like you! (90%)

Note: All unaddressed memos and emails will automatically be forwarded to: EMPLOYEE 126.

Employee 126 (Charlie Page)- An employee who now constantly explores the world around him, mapping out the office in his copious amounts of spare time. A scrapped NPC who was added last-minute into The Stanley Parable: Ultra Deluxe, without The Narrator’s knowledge. He has only recently begun to find others in the building, and he is aware of restarts, which cause him to wake up back at his desk if he falls asleep or passes out (or worse) during his journeys.

Employee 427 (Stanley)- The Protagonist, a man who’s been in this office for just a little too long. As a result, he now tends to be rather passive and relaxed, having mostly accepted his role in the Parable and doing what he can to have fun with it. He has a mild dislike for The Narrator, as he remembers each ending Players bring him through, and is quick to defend any other characters that may be threatened by him or his actions.

The Narrator (James)- The supposed creator of The Stanley Parable, a formless voice that actually hides away in a disconnected part of The Office, typically going unseen by all except The Curator. He watches over Stanley and the others via a series of cameras and microphones, and can rearrange rooms to a certain degree through his office. He was originally overly controlling and obsessed with his story, to the point where Stanley and another were once fully convinced he’d gone so far as to brainwash Charlie into performing for the game. When this misunderstanding resulted in him being attacked despite having left Charlie unharmed, he severely reevaluated his treatment of Stanley and the others. Now, he looks to continually improve himself as well as the story.

The Curator (Faith)- A woman who tends to The Museum, and arguably one of The Narrator’s few friends. She tries to maintain a neutral view of the happenings in the office, but has taken an interest in Charlie, specifically, as he can’t be limited by a script that doesn’t include him. Before The Parable, she worked with The Narrator (among others) to monitor and manipulate the Employees’ lives. She was tasked with watching over Employee 432, while being forced to stay as hands-off as possible and unaware of what the company intended for him. Once she realized what was happening, she eagerly awaited a window of opportunity to let him escape, but ultimately ran out of time. When the company threatened to ‘demote’ her for losing him (erasing her memories and putting her in his place), The Narrator offered her a place in his story, where she’d be safe. After she accepted, everyone had vanished-- with the exception of her, The Narrator, and Stanley.

Employee 432 (Jim)- The near-omnipotent ghost of a tortured man who vanished long ago. He now lingers throughout the game and it’s universe, assisting players in adjusting their settings and time. In rare moments, he can pause time to form himself in the office, interacting with anything and anyone in a moderate radius. He can only communicate through monitors, or, through direct contact with someone, memories of speech or flashbacks to what happened before he disappeared.

The Stanley Parable Reassurance Bucket- It’s a bucket. That’s it. At least, according to Charlie. Somehow, he fails to see in it the glory and amazement that others do.

The Stanley Parable Adventure Line (Alan)- The classic, beloved Adventure Line- now in human form! Alan, as It now calls Itself, is a loud, mischievous, slightly annoying young human whose favourite hobbies include painting over the office walls and poking It’s nose into anywhere it likely doesn’t belong. For reasons It doesn’t understand or care about, It claims It was given a human form by ‘The Parable.’ It fails to ever elabourate on this.

??? (Joseph)- A stranger who was found scouring the warehouse one day and lives in the storage room beneath it. He had assumed the office was entirely abandoned before meeting Charlie and Stanley, both of whom he keeps at arm’s length, perhaps for the best. He appears to have a penchant for violence, and typically carries some form of weapon around the relatively calm and quiet office for ‘self defense.’ It isn’t clear what he wants to ‘defend’ himself from, and others are typically concerned by the nonsensical ramblings he logs in James’ tape recorder.

??? (Martin)- A quiet, uptight person who seems to live somewhere within the Mind Control Facility, and hasn't ventured out far beyond it. It claims to work for the 'safety and well-being' of all employees, but also worked with and still speaks highly of 'McConnell,' the former boss of the company. While some have attempted to explain the Story and Parable to it, it doesn't fully understand (or perhaps refuses to understand) this, finding it unbelievable that any Employee would ever wish to reject their number for a name, defy the directions of a Narrator, or, perhaps worst of all, deactivate the machine that Martin and his manager would use to 'help' the employees throughout their daily lives.

#tsprp #the stanley parable roleplay #employee 126 #charlie page #stanley #the narrator #the curator #employee 432 #the stanley parable reassurance bucket #alan #joseph #martin

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aomineavenue · 4 years

Text

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 007. realizations

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ dinner disaster | realization | chapter seven bonus ↪

mia’s note(s):

another easter egg found here! can you find it?

i’m so excited because we’re almost done. remember how i said it’s 12 chapters? well, i’ve shortened it ok lmao dont be mad but homesick is almost over hehe

i would just like to personally thank @newfriendjen and @hqstuffsforme bcoz they literally give me the motivation I need to continue writing lmao

The model scrunches her features up in annoyance, puffing her cheeks as if she were a child being deprived of sweets. She flickers her attention over to you, her jaw clenching at the mere fact a woman was seated next to him. “Excuse me.”

You arch an eyebrow, noticing her glowering towards your direction. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” she answers, her eyes betraying the smile she had on, “I believe you’re in my seat.”

The past few weeks had been exhausting for him, and it wasn’t because of their intense training for upcoming games. His exhaustion’s source was mainly from the most recent important events, it took a toll on him emotionally. While this may be true, he understands there wasn’t anyone to blame but himself. The anger still existed somewhere in his mind, displeasing him whenever his thoughts reminded him of the chances he had lost to take care of his kids at a much younger age, but he had tried his best to subdue those particular emotions ever since that night. Chaotic as it was, it took him a step closer towards the realization of what he really needed to do. All he needed now was a little shove.

“‘Tsumtsum!” he hears her screech, the muscles around his shoulders grow tense. The irony of it all, just as they were discussing that horrendous memory of the Christmas Party just last December that he had tried his best to eradicate from his brain due to his own embarrassment, he couldn’t believe the model in question had instantaneously emerged out of thin air. What was she doing all the way here in Kanagawa? It was as if he had no escape from her suffocating clutches. A quick glance towards his brother and he recognizes the criticizing features sewn on his twin’s features and all he could do was share a silent communication, pleading for his aid.

Out of all the times this woman could appear, she appears at the very moment where he was sort of, trying, to redeem himself. Silently, he prays as she snakes her arms around his neck, that you, settled next to him, wouldn’t conclude anything from it, but who was he kidding? The position itself was sufficient evidence for you to come up with the conclusion he’s dreading. He can sense everyone’s eyes on him, the irritation they were radiating for such disruption. As she releases another infuriating squeal, this time an inch away from his ear, he pries her hands away from his neck and wraps his fingers around her wrist to pull her to the side.

Her lower lip juts out to a pout as she stands by the table, ignoring the dirty look he was directing her way. “What’s wrong ‘Tsumtsum? Did you not like my surprise?”

“Surprise?” he disputes, his brows furrowed in confusion as he releases his grip from her wrist, displeasure evident in his tone as he spoke. “Don’t tell me you were stalking me, Yumi.”

She folds her arms across her chest and lets out a scoff of disbelief escape her lips, “You make it sound as if I’m not your girlfriend or something!”

“Well, you aren’t.” he argues, a sigh of frustration escaping his lips, “We’ve talked about this. We’re not together and how did you know I was going to be here anyway?”

“That’s some serious stalking there, Yumi-san.” Hinata quips from his seat innocently, the other individuals around the table attempt their best to contain their sniggering at the sight of the model going red in the face from both anger and embarrassment.

She releases a grunt from her lips, sending a glare towards Hinata’s direction before turning her attention back at him, flashing him an innocent smile. “I don’t care what you say, we’re dating. You can’t just drop me like that. What we have is something special, you love me right? You never really said it before, but I know you’re just being shy, ‘Tsumtsum, it’s o—”

“Please,” He interjects, “Drop it. We’ve discussed this already, Yumi.”

You arch an eyebrow, noticing her glowering towards your direction. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” she answers, her angry eyes betraying the smile she had on, “I believe you’re in my seat.”

“Yumi!” Atsumu hisses, pushing himself to stand from his seat. “Stop this, right now. We’re trying to have a quiet dinner.”

Clearing your throat, you avoid the model’s glare as you stand yourself, “I think I’m full, and I’d like to return to the hospital. She can have my seat.”

“Wait, what?” Reiji chokes, sharing a panic glance over to his current partner in crime across from him. “But we haven’t even gotten to the main course,”

Yumi squeezes her way towards your seat after pulling you away from where you stood with abrupt force, a happy squeal leaving her lips as she occupies the seat you sat on seconds ago, she turns to look up at you, a smug smile evident in her features, “Safe travels.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night, everyone.” you bid, bowing your head slightly before your feet take off towards the exit of the restaurant.

“Good riddance, if you ask me.” Yumi scoffs with a wave of her hand to capture everyone’s attention. She claps her hands together excitedly as she looks up at Atsumu, “I missed you so much, ‘Tsumtsum! You never bring me to dinners with your friends, this is so exciting for our relation—”

As Reiji was practically seething from the side like a predator ready to pounce an attack towards its enemy for disrespecting his best friend like that, and from the sudden thought of regret entering his mind of how he shouldn’t have trusted Atsumu for not doing anything. However, such thoughts were crushed almost instantly at the sight of the furious glare Atsumu was sending over to the model that was seated uninvitedly on your seat.

The sight of a furious Atsumu was enough to send a chill through her spine, as she was about to try to soothe the volleyball player by reaching out for him, he slaps her hands away which causes her to whimper, jutting her lower lip out to pout. “What did I do?”

“Are you serious, Yumi?” he snaps, nails burying into his palms to restrain his growing irritation, “I can’t believe you would do that.”

“Why does it matter?” she whines, trying to reach out for him once again, only to fail as he steps back further, “Are you serious right now? Who was that bitch anyway?”

Reiji interrupts, his voice full of venom from behind the model, “I’d watch your tongue if I were you.”

“Whatever,” she stutters, attempting to look unfazed by the singer’s words by rolling her eyes but her quivering posture radiated otherwise, “She shouldn’t matter, ‘Tsumtsum, let’s just continue dinner.”

“What are you? A child?” Osamu intrudes, not able to hold back his tongue any longer from this model’s personality, “Stop calling my brother such a horrendous nickname like a squealing pig.”

An offended gasp escaped her lips, glowering towards Osamu, “He likes it when I call him that, so sucks to be you! And I’m not a child, I’m a fully grown woman.”

“Could have fooled me,” Asuma mutters underneath his breath.

Yumi lets out a grunt. “Tell them, baby. You like it when I call you—Where are you going?”

He doesn’t spare her a glance, weaving his way through the restaurant to run after you, “I hate that nickname.”

Before Yumi could stand up and follow after him, her path was blocked by the other individuals around the table who had stood up the second they realized Atsumu’s plan of action. “What are you doing? Let me through! You’re all going to regret this!”

Yumi’s screech was the last thing Atsumu heard as he steps out of the restaurant, a part of him feeling bad for his friends being left to deal with Yumi’s ridiculous antics and well, for the other people in the restaurant that might have had their ears traumatized. He never really understood what he saw in her in the first place, it was Yumi who had approached him in the beginning anyway. He should have listened to Osamu instead.

He looks around frantically, wanting to be able to catch up to you. He needed to talk to you, to apologize for Yumi’s behavior. He was just hoping that, somehow, he still had a chance to fix things with you. Hopefully, Yumi’s appearance hadn’t ruined those chances.

He catches a glimpse of your retreating figure walking towards the nearest bus station and he feels his heart soar, you haven't gone too far yet. He doesn’t waste any more time than he already has, sprinting towards your direction, calling out your name.

At the sound of his voice, your name rolling off of his tongue in desperation, you turn your head to look back with confusion. He reaches you almost instantly after you pivot your body to face his direction. Despite looking flustered as he catches his breath, he takes your breath away.

“Oh, sorry.” a feminine voice interrupts his train of thought through memory lane, causing him to turn around, startled, “I didn’t realize someone was already occupying the balcony.”

He lets out an awkward laugh, shaking his head, “No, it’s okay. It’s not like I’d stop you, I don’t own the space or anything.”

“So you don’t mind if I share your space? The party inside is kind of suffocating.” she lets out a sigh, avoiding his gaze sheepishly.

“I don’t mind at all,” he nods, tearing his gaze away from her as she steps out onto the balcony. He returns his gaze over to the buildings of Shinjuku, the different bright hues from various buildings painting the night sky.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He hums softly, lifting the cold bottle of Sapporo up to his lips to take a quick sip. He lets out a sigh, “Just some stuff, it’s nothing really.” He turns to look over at her when she steps towards the edge of the balcony near him, “Wait, aren’t you Tobio-kun’s sister? The sports journalist?”

She lets out a laugh with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I’m glad I’ve made a name for myself then for some of the players here to recognize me. Though, I don’t think I appreciate being known as Tobio’s sister, not that I’m not proud of my brother or anything.”

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to.” he states sheepishly.

She shakes her head, offering him a small smile. “It’s okay, no worries. You realize the party is inside, don’t you? I think I heard Bokuto-san looking for you or something.”

“I suppose I’m not really in the mood right now,” he mutters underneath his breath, looking back up ahead. “Not really in the right mind space. I don’t really know why I’m telling you this, you’re a journalist.”

She pouts, “I’m not as bad as those gossiping sharks. I prefer to actually produce worthy news. Speaking of news, you’ve been everywhere lately. I suppose it’s hard for you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if that happens.”

“I don’t mind it,” he admits, his forehead creasing.

“Pardon?”

He lets out another sigh, shifting his position so his back is leaning against the railing of the balcony, “I don’t mind it. I just wish she was left out of things. She doesn’t deserve such slander.”

“I suppose the woman associated in the news with you actually means something to you then,” she muses, “I always thought that model Yumi was irritating. I’m sure her fame will fly out the window sooner or later.”

He lets out a scoff of irritation, taking another swig of the beer in his hand, “Don’t even remind me of her.”

“She’s not really well liked either,” the journalist beside him snickers, “Don’t worry about it too much, you’ll grow wrinkles. Say, Miya-san, do you love her?”

He’s startled by the direct question, if it were not for his tight grip around the beer bottle, it would have slipped from his fingers and came crashing to the floor. No one, not even his brother, had asked him such a question. He never really thought about it, but ever since that night, you were all he could think about. “It’s complicated.”

“A lot of things are complicated.” she starts, tilting her head back up to look at the dark sky from the penthouse balcony, “There will always be complications, you know. But, do you know what’s the bright side of it?”

He turns his head to look over at her in curiosity, “What?”

She lets out a heavy sigh, a sad smile forming on her lips. “For each complicated situation we are in, the only person who can deal with such complications, is ourselves. Everything is in our hands. The only question you should be asking yourself is, what is the outcome you wish to have? Then from there, I’m sure you’ll be able to find a solution to your complicated situation.”

“I wish it were that easy,” he frowns, fluttering his eyelids shut as he lets the cold night breeze brush against his skin.

A laugh escapes her lips, “Nothing is ever easy. Life would be boring if that were the case. But all I can say is, it’s really up to you whether you want to take action or not.”

A comfortable silence engulfs the two occupants on the balcony, the soft chatter from the V.League Association party almost seemed it were music flowing throughout the large penthouse, the usual busy streets of Shinjuku were quiet as the time flew by, signalling how late it had gotten.

“Thank you,” Atsumu breaks the silence, a small smile playing on his lips.

She nods her head, returning his smile with her own, “It’s nothing, really. I may not know what’s really happening, but I know the feeling of being part of a complicated situation. Trust me, I’m having a hard time following my own advice.”

“I’m sure you’ll—”

“Am I interrupting something?”

The two switch their attention over to the man that steps into the comfortable space, Atsumu flickering his gaze back and forth to the woman next to him and the volleyball player that made his appearance. He notes the stiff posture of the woman who had been accompanying him and he comes to the conclusion that it was his cue to leave. “Ah, no Ushijima-san. I believe you’re looking for this one, so I’ll leave you two to it.”

Before Atsumu could leave the two to talk, the woman calls out his name. He glances back over his shoulder, capturing a glimpse of her encouraging smile. “If you love her, you should let her know.”

He gives her an appreciative smile before stepping back inside of the penthouse, the murmur of a chatter earlier from the balcony becoming more clear and loud. Placing the half-empty bottle of Sapporo down on a surface in the lounging area, he glances over at the digital wall clock.

An hour until midnight. It would take him at least an hour or so to travel back to Kanagawa from Shinjuku.

Not wasting another second, despite the calls from his teammates, he leaves the party with determination.

The thin hospital blanket you had requested earlier from a nurse barely gave you any warmth, your body engulfed in a chilly embrace. Not even curling up your body to a fetal position and clinging the white sheets closer gave you any source of heat.

Letting out a groan of frustration, you push the blankets away and shift your body to a sitting position on the rather uncomfortable armchair provided by the hospital, giving up on sleep for the meantime. Aside from the murmur produced from the air conditioner and the steady beeping of Atsuhiro’s vitals indicating a healthy heartbeat from the monitor, it was too silent for your liking.

You realize it was almost midnight after a quick glance at the digital clock that rested on the surface of the side table next to Atsuhiro’s bed, and you couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh. At least Atsuhiro was sleeping peacefully. It had taken a while before he had gotten used to sleeping in another bed that wasn’t his, often waking up in the middle of the night or not being able to sleep at all.

The sound of shuffling breaks your train of thought and you shift your attention over to your sleeping mother who you insisted occupied the small couch. A little sore back was nothing of an appreciation for your mother’s attentiveness to your sons. She had refused to return back to Hyōgo until Atsuhiro had been discharged from the hospital, and despite it taking awhile since there hadn’t been a suitable donor for him yet, not a single complaint had left your mother’s mouth.

You couldn’t help but shoulder the burden of the delay on finding Atsuhiro a donor, the past weeks had been hectic and stressful. And if you were going to be honest, ever since that disaster of a dinner, you had been putting off the idea of having the much needed talk with Atsumu. You were just thankful that Atsuhiro’s condition hadn’t worsened since then.

You were, more or else, afraid, of where or how the conversation was going to end. The doubt you had was not just because of your insecurities, but it was also because, since that night, you hadn’t heard from Atsumu himself. You couldn’t blame him, the night had ended in disaster as well, nor was the morning after very pleasant from being bombarded with strings of questions from your friends.

Fame.

It was something you never got used to despite your friends being in a boy band for so long. You were now under the spotlight, and what was worse was that after some thorough digging by crazy fans, your sons, your precious sons, had been dragged through mud. However, you were grateful for certain fans, the fans of Galaxy Standard in particular, had defended you without much of a command from their idols. As soon as your name, and your kids, were mentioned, they immediately jumped in to defend you. Bless their souls.

Although, you still couldn’t believe it yourself of the events that occurred right after you had exited the restaurant, intent on returning to the hospital.

The already dreadful night takes a turn for the worst, the annoying high pitched shrill being repeated causing you to wince as the woman who had completely ruined, well, a already ruined dinner made her way through the threshold of little sanity that you had left and closed the gap between her and Atsumu by wrapping her arms around his neck from behind where he sat, she was dangerously standing close to you, more so enough for you to maybe stab your chopsticks to her side for her pesky squealing. What is she trying to imitate? A tortured pig?

You didn't bother to cease your eye roll, this is Atsumu's type? Now, you know you aren't all that amazing or anything and looking at the woman clinging to Atsumu, she looked all around amazing, it was pretty obvious that she was a model. However, the personality she was exhibiting was nowhere near your expectations of the women Atsumu would date. It was overbearing.

Instead of dealing with such ridiculous antics from a grown woman acting like a child, you decide it was best to find an excuse to leave. As the opportunity presented itself on a silver platter, you took it without any hesitation despite the quiet protests of Reiji from behind you. Exhaustion had left you with little sanity and dealing with someone like Yumi, well, you weren’t having it.

Saying your polite goodbye, you left without another word, ignoring the pleading looks from your friends. It wasn’t as if you were angry or anything, maybe just a tad on the jealous side when Yumi had introduced herself as Atsumu’s girlfriend, but either than that, you just wanted a quiet night. The rowdy bunch was already enough to drain you, but having to deal with someone like Yumi? Yeah, no thanks.

Stepping out of the restaurant, you shiver from the rush of cold air that brushes against the exposed patches of skin, making you silently regret not bringing a jacket with you. Instead of dwelling on your silly mistake, you wrap your arms around yourself for your momentary source of warmth, rubbing your exposed arms with your soft palms, it would have to do for the meantime.

Luckily, you were familiar with the area since you’ve been to the restaurant more times than you can count, that despite not having a ride back to the hospital, you were at least knowledgeable of the area. You began your journey towards the nearest bus stop, knowing it was still fairly early since the dinner hadn’t even progressed that far yet. Somehow, despite being irritated by Yumi's presence, you were grateful for intrusion, at least you would be able to return to Atsuhiro earlier than expected. You’d have to give Shizuma a call once you return to the hospital to check on Atsuhiko.

Thankfully, the walk to the nearest bus stop was short, because walking in heels was never something you adored, wincing already from the discomfort. You couldn’t wait to take them off for much more comfortable shoes. However, as you neared the bus stop, you hear his pleading shouts of your name and you halt almost instantly. For a moment, you wondered if it were just in your head, but at the sound of shouts mixed with hurried steps grew louder, your heart swells weirdly in your chest. Spinning around, you come to face Atsumu, catching his breath, his hands on his knees.

“What…?” you mutter under your breath, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be entertaining your girlfriend back there?”

As he regains his composure, he pushes himself to stand properly, meeting your gaze instantly. His gaze catching your breath in your throat. Mesmerizing.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he shakes his head, looking at you with sincerity in his eyes, “I promise.”

The corners of your mouth tug down to a frown, “Why are you telling me this, Atsumu? It’s fine. You’re not obligated to tell me who you’re dating. Just because we have kids together, doesn’t mean we should fix our shit and get togeth—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, causing your eyes to widen briefly before your brows furrowed in confusion from his apology. Sensing your confusion, he continues, “I’m sorry for everything. For our shitty past, for not treating you better, for not realizing my idiotic ways. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

You press your lips to a thin line, racking your brain for a response. Well, what were you supposed to say? You had imagined this before, imagined what it would be like when Atsumu apologizes for things, and back then, you would have seen yourself rejecting his apologies, but as you stood there at that very moment, you couldn’t find the anger that you had. Then, you realized. This was Atsumu.

Your best friend since you were eight years old, the one person that always bothered and teased you to no end, but no matter what, you could never find yourself being mad at him for a long period of time. You were always quick to forgive him.

“And, I’m sorry for this,” he breaks your train of thought and you wonder what he means for a second, but as he closes the gap between the two of you as he cups your cheeks in his hands, you don’t fight back.

You let him bring your face closer to his.

You don’t fight back.

Not even when his lips had found its rightful place against your own.

You are pulled from your thoughts at the sound of knocking echoing throughout the quiet room, not realizing how your fingers have found their way against your lips, brushing along its luscious shape, almost as if you were reminiscing the sensation of his lips.

The sound of knocking interrupts you once more and for a second, you had thought you had imagined it, but as it was repeated a few more times, you began wondering who it might be. After crossing the room in long strides, you slide the door open, eyes widening at the man standing before you.

“I love you.”

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq x reader #hq imagine #hq imagines #hq x you #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader

406 notes · View notes

armysantiny · 3 years

Text

Callous - CYJ

Pairing: Yeonjun x female reader || TXT

Genre: angst

Includes: college au, exes to strangers, break up, fashion major Yeonjun, performing arts major reader, regret, naps, Xiaojun (WayV) mention, Wooyoung (Ateez) mention, Changbin (Stray Kids) mention, Wooyoung x Changbin reference, swearing, venting, alcohol mention, trip to London

Word count: 2.56k

Warning: anxiety attack, anxiety, breakup, venting, swearing, alcohol mention lmk if I need to add any more!

Rating: 12

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopficsnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @prism-nw, @hybenet, @k-library, @moacabinet

Tagging: @intokook, @cherry-hyejin, @sinchoi || Fic Taglist

Prompts: “you know damn well we meant something” || “Don’t leave me here.”

An: Prompts are from the @ficscafe dialogue prompt event!

They say time heals all wounds, but for Yeonjun, it seemed as though he was the bitter exception. Months after he had split off from his relationship with y/n, the wound in his heart was as fresh as ever. And who could he blame? He started the argument, he brought up her past trauma, he blamed her for things she had no control over. No wonder she wanted out so badly. But if time didn’t heal the wound in his heart, it definitely gave him perspective. A perspective into his own reckless behaviour. However, the end of term-break was nearing, and he’d be forced to face y/n - and the aftermath - again.

Sighing as he watched the time tick forward inch by inch, Yeonjun tried focusing on eating breakfast, ignoring the reminder in his head that he’d be in the same class as his ex-girlfriend again. Perhaps Professor Chae would have mercy and not put their seating places beside each other. His phone going off as he finished the last of his cereal, Yeonjun picked it up, rolling his eyes as his best friend’s message.

Wooyoung: Hey, do you think I’ll get any confessions this term?

Yeonjun: Dude, you get a new confession like, every other week, why are you even asking?

Wooyoung: Oh yeah~ you’re right!

Yeonjun: Don't you have a boyfriend though? Where’s Changbin? Say hi to him for me

Wooyoung: He doesn’t have class until 10:30 :(

Wooyoung: Hey! You have his number too! Say hi yourself!

Yeonjun: Ehh, can’t be asked. See you later.

Wooyoung: Uh huh love you too - bye!

Bag slung over his shoulder, outfit complete, a water bottle in his bag and he was ready; now all he had to do was to brave actually going out of his apartment and to his first class of the day. But his thoughts were being less than kind to him, and Yeonjun could feel his heart start to palpitate. Patting his chest repeatedly as he tried to steady his own breathing, the 21-year-old took to heading back inside to his living room, where he sat down and tried dealing with the oncoming wave of anxiety and panic.

Yeonjun hadn’t heard the knock at his door, nor had he heard when the passcode had been entered, a concerned Wooyoung walking through the door. “Yeonjun…? Junie? Choi Yeonjun where are-,” Stopping in his tracks when he walked in on his best friend crouched behind one end of the sofa, out of sight. “Yeonjun-ah, it’s me…”

“Oh - Wooyoung, I- how, how did you get in?” The fellow 21-year-old asked, finally aware enough to realise that Wooyoung was in his apartment, kneeling down beside him. Looking over, the vulnerability was raw, and entirely out on display. And Wooyoung’s gentle smile provided a sense of warmth and familiarity, no matter how small that feeling was.

“You still haven’t changed it since you told me. Anyway- that’s not too important; let’s get you feeling better hmm? I’m not the emotional support friend for nothing you know~.” Wooyoung hummed, taking Yeonjun’s hand into his own. Starting with a short breathing exercise, the dance major got Yeonjun to relax, asking him to describe the items in his room; starting with five things he could see, going down consecutively until they had gone through each of his senses. And it had started to work; Yeonjun’s heart didn’t feel like it was beating out of his chest, everything had become clearer - the crushing in his chest going away. Taking a few more stable breaths, Yeonjun’s body relaxed as he slowly stood up, Wooyoung standing up soon afterwards.

“That...that was rough. Thanks Woo.”

“No problem Jun, it’s what I’m here for.”

Arriving in class but five minutes late, Yeonjun tried concentrating on the presentation in front of him, making notes every so often as his professor explained the lesson. Everything felt normal, perhaps even too normal. But normal was better than nothing, and it seemed like the fashion major wouldn’t be facing y/n at school for the time being. Busy with his notes as he adjusted his glasses, the universe must have counted him lucky as he didn’t see who entered the lecture hall to talk to the professor. When he finally looked up from his notebook, his eyes widened before he immediately went back to staring at his notes, in hopes that y/n didn’t notice him on her way out.

But she did notice him. She did notice him sitting in his seat as she left. When did he change professors? Remaining by the door as she closed it behind her, the performing arts major blinked back memories before she made her way back to class; class was more important than an old relationship gone sour. Walking back into the hallspace that was the location of her class, tried refocusing as she joined her group of friends as they watched some of the improv performances after speaking to her own professor.

“Well? What did Mr Kim say? Are we going to be working with the fashion majors for the end of year performance?” Dejun asked, leaning over to whisper while they watched their classmates.

“Oh? Yeah, yeah, Mr Kim said Mr Song will be ‘lending’ his students to us,” Y/n replied, air quotes as she spoke, “ I don’t know about you Xiaojun, but doesn’t ‘lending’ sound kinda off?” She asked, an amused grin on her face as she went over the wording one more time. Taking a moment to realise what about it was so amusing, he snickered when the correlation finally clicked. The pair exhaled rapidly to try and drown the laughter, they covered their mouths with their hands once their professor glared in their direction.

“Well; looks like we got caught~ but yeah - are they products to him or something?”

“We may never know Xiaojun, we may never know~.”

As class finished up, y/n grabbed her bag and headed out, waving to Dejun and her friends as she made her way into the hallway. Earbuds plugged in, she kept her hands in her pocket as she aimlessly wandered through campus, humming along to the song playing as she found herself walking towards the courtyard. Without any other classes until that afternoon, there was plenty of time to sneak in a nap while she listened to her true crime podcast. Finding a bench off in the corner, the second-year student let her mind rest as she placed her coat along the bench and laid her head on her bag.

As luck would have it, Yeonjun’s timetable had more or less the same timings as y/n’s, and he had also been looking for a quiet place to rest. Class had gone well after seeing y/n, and the book he had been reading was just getting to the good part. Finding a bench that wasn’t too far away from y/n - he didn’t intentionally sit close by, but life is never predictable - he took a seat, opening the book and continuing with the tale in his hands. His reactions muted as to not draw much outward attention to himself, the bout of uncontrollable snickers ended up waking and getting the attention of the only other student in the courtyard. Looking up from his book when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, the nervous palpitations of his heart started again when he recognised who he was sharing the courtyard space with.

“Hey-! Can, can I talk to you? Please…” Y/n was seconds from heading out of the courtyard when she heard Yeonjun’s voice, turning around for a brief moment before sighing. After the way he treated their break up, she was certain that there would be no way she’d want to see him again by choice. Rolling her eyes, she turned back towards the direction of the hallway, only to be stopped by a hand holding onto her wrist; holding onto her as though she was an uncertain dream. One that would fade away if not given the chance to confront it.

“Choi Yeonjun, I thought I made it clear that I don’t want you to speak to me again. Is it that hard to stick to?”

“I know y/n - and I’m sorry - but I’ve been beating myself up over this and I need to apologise. Apologise to you properly.” He was desperate, desperate to set things right and try to regain some level of contact with y/n. Yeonjun would be a dirty liar if he tried telling himself that even after all he had put his ex girlfriend through, he didn’t want to try becoming closer, at least platonically. But the feeling wasn’t mutual. Y/n wanted nothing to do with her ex; he’d hurt her too much, and despite the memories they shared, she could see nothing but the man who used the insecurities she trusted him with against her. He was a chapter in her past she wanted to separate herself from, to never look at again.Y/n said nothing as she pried his hand off of her wrist, a hard glare in her eyes as she left Yeonjun alone in the courtyard. Staring at his hands as though they were red with blood, his thoughts spiralled, exactly one being voiced out through a whisper, only for Yeonjun’s ears but meant for y/n.

“Don’t leave me here, don’t leave me clasping at straws y/n…”

“Wait, wait, wait - Yeonjun was in the courtyard?” Xiaojun’s voice called out from y/n’s phone late that afternoon, well after all classes were long over. They had been talking for the last ten minutes, and the topic of what had happened had just been brought up. From his side of the call, Xiaojun saved his assignment - of which he was already ahead in - and leaned back in his chair. He had been there for y/n when the breakup happened, spent days comforting his long-term close friend, and had some choice opinions of his own when it came to the fellow 99-liner.

“Yeah! I think he was reading a book or something, but I didn’t see it. Anyway - my point; this bastard actually wanted to talk to me. He grabbed my fucking wrist and everything; something about wanting to ‘apologise’.” Y/n answered, her phone on speaker as she set about making herself a hot chocolate. She’d get to her research assignment after telling her best friend what had happened. First order of business? Getting herself a drink.

“Wow…” Dejun started, the disbelief loud, “after the crap he put you through, it took him this long to want to apologise?” He asked, putting his own phone on speaker as he stood out of his chair to get a water bottle. The conversation stayed like that for the next half an hour; both talking about one topic after another, all seeming to revolve around y/n’s painful break up. It had been less than a week after y/n’s birthday when Yeonjun had decided that he wanted to end their two-year relationship, a fake cold exterior as he left her alone in the silence of her own apartment that night. Y/n never went to sleep afterwards, burying herself in work as she let the tears fall down her face freely, only praying that the end of the year could come any faster. Each day had dragged on at a snail’s pace though, each hour feeling three times as long as she tried avoiding the cause of her pain. It was those six weeks before her second year in university that she found her mercy, going on a three-week trip to London with Xiaojun and a couple others in their friendship circle. Tears were shed, alcohol was consumed and heart-to-hearts were had. By the time y/n had returned to Seoul, she was on track to healing the wound in her heart.

At the end of their mini venting session, the question that was really hanging in the air was whether y/n should even bother hearing Yeonjun out. But it seemed as though fate was eavesdropping on the pair’s conversation, because a knock at the door after y/n had hung up on her phone call immediately grabbed her attention. There was no way Xiaojun could have been at the door, otherwise the university student would have heard it across the call. Walking up to the door with a minute sense of apprehension, y/n looked through the peephole and audibly groaned. Massaging her temples out of frustration, she opened the door, arms folded as she stared him dead in the eye.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have your own mess of an apartment to get to?” She questioned, watching her ex walk in with a raised brow.

“I told you, I needed to talk to you. Please y/n, just one last time, hear me out. I beg of you.”

And despite her resentment, that’s what she did.

There was no level of regret or guilt that could describe just how apologetic Yeonjun was feeling as he spoke, each syllable a thorn on his tongue. He had avoided the glare in y/n’s expression as he tried explaining his point of view, but it was clear that it really was Yeonjun who had brought it upon himself. His actions, his callous behaviour led to where they were now; sat in y/n’s apartment while he desperately tried to repair a burned down bridge with nothing more than pretty words.

Having forced herself to sit through Yeonjun’s failed attempts at winning some semblance of friendship, y/n stood up, not in any mood to hear his voice any more. “You know what the real issue is with you?”

“What, what is it..?”

“You’re pathetically entitled.” Y/n started, looking everywhere but the man sitting on her sofa in front of her. “Two years, Yeonjun. Two fucking years and you decide to break up with me in front of my family while we were on video - humiliate me - and give me no reason. You erased me from your life even though you knew damn well we meant something. And suddenly now you decide that ‘Oh, I need y/n back’?”

“Y/n-ah, I’m - I’m sorry, I was a coward, I- I wanted an easy way out…” A ‘tch’ coming from y/n at his poor attempt at an excuse, she said nothing as she went to the apartment door and opened it.

“Get out. If I see you come to my door again Choi I will call the police.” His head hung low, Yeonjun complied; putting his shoes back on and walking out in shame. Flinching when he heard the slam of the door behind him, the broken man made the journey home by foot, too ashamed to feel the need to take the bus.

From inside her apartment, y/n reached for her phone. She needed to spend the night somewhere else.

Y/n: Mind if I stay the night?

Dejun: No problem, you’ve already got some of your own stuff here.

Y/n: Thanks Jun

As she left her apartment, there was one question on her mind. One that put into question exactly how she had dealt with the situation;

She wasn’t being too callous with Yeonjun, was she?

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

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7 Anti LO Asks

1. tbh the fact rachel purposely didnt let persephone have any romantic relationships before hades gives the impression that had persephone had any other experience, she'd see right through him and not want him because she had better. not having any other point of reference isnt good. its setting up that hades can get away with whatever he wants because she doesnt know anything else. thats really not a healthy dynamic to have even while dating, much less eternal marriage.

2. You know what’s weird? How Hades is a 2000+ year old being and still has not gone through his trauma. We know that he was eaten by Kronos when he was around 8 and stayed there for like 13 years if i’m correct (in the LO version), so we can assume that when he got out he was in his early to mid twenties. And then he fought in the war which we don’t know how long it was in LO bc there’s no info on that at all but let’s assume that that lasted 100 years.. he’s still pretty young there. So how is it that he’s only now getting help for his traumas? Which we don’t even see actually, it’s just a sentence said by him when he adopts the little dog. We don’t even know how old he actually is bc it’s always assumed it’s 2000+ but 2000+ years old could mean 2030 years old or 2999 years old or even 3000 and more and he has just lost track of time. All of these years and he still has not processed or made any progress?? At all?! Unless therapists are a new thing in the Underworld but we have Chiron who says that she was a physician in the old world but got tired of it so she decided to study the human mind. And that must have been quite some time ago. So why exactly is Hades a 2000+ broken man who needs to be fixed by a 19 year old going through her own trauma?

3. The underworld being an infertile world doesn’t make sense at all. If we compare the underworld with the underground it’s a fact that where there’s decay if is more fertile. Not to mention that in the myths the underworld is in fact considered a fertile land. We know that the underworld is full of souls, and souls are considered what give life to a body or place, so the underworld being a desert still doesn’t make sense at all.

4.If I may also add, just because LO is a “retelling” doesn’t mean it doesn’t harm Greece or Greek people. They still exist, funnily enough, they didn’t all die once Alexander the Great stop conquering. They’re a country full of strong, passionate people who have gone and are still going through massive problems and hardships. They are also a country who are still, at best, ignored, or at worst, mocked for the suffering they must endure by nations that are far from economic instability and from actual war zones like Greece is. Despite all that, their mythos are seen with great reverence to this day, and they don’t “gatekeep” it, you can ask any Greek in here and they’ll tell you they enjoy stuff like the Disney version or PJO just fine, but you have to stop and wonder why LO is a Greek myth product that is almost universally despised to Greeks who know it exists.

It’s pretty obvious why, RS not only butchers the myths completely to where they don’t even resemble what they once were, but her constantly silencing and badmouthing actual Greeks who want to help her make it more accurate is not a great look. She’s acting as if she, a white woman from an island made of literal England reject descendants, somehow not only knows more about Greek myth than actual Greeks, but that she OWNS the mythology and she can do whatever she wants with it, and only those who agree to her biases know what they’re talking about while everyone else is wrong, so obviously Greeks don’t know Greek mythology! Even media products in the same, non-Greek realm as her get her ire. Case in point, we know she’s hostile to PJO, she badmouths the Disney movie all the time, she complained about Blood of Zeus (emphasize on ZEUS) didn’t revolve around HxP, and despite them being heavily promoted by her own employers, she never speaks of Punderworld or HxP ficlets, even when her fans harass them and in Ficlets case purposely got them kicked off Canvas for “copying” LO, meanwhile she will happily promote OSP because they confirm her biases and kissed her butt in their HxP video. What does this tell us? Because it doesn’t seem very nice.

Of course she’s allowed as a creator to play with the mythology as she wants, but even then there are still limits to adhere to, and she never does it because obviously her half-baked concept of the “mythology” is way better than the 3000+ years of texts and interpretations out there. Sure she has people flinging themselves at her to offer her help for free, especially Greeks and academics, but what would they know over her, the self proclaimed master of mythology itself? Obviously she created it all in 2016 when she decided to draw a sexy pink girl and that’s it. Greece and everyone else was just using a fake version this whole time!

It seems from her POV, Greece ands its citizens are, in her own words “haters” who apparently know less about Greece and its own mythology than her, a white woman who uses a fanfic-writing white supremacist as a main source. The ego on this woman is astonishing.

5. May I also add to the age discourse, something like Edward and Bella can get away with it because Edward stopped aging physically, mentally, and emotionally at 17, and even in story there is a logic to them still going to HighSchool after all this time. He may be 117 age wise, but he’s at the same exact level as Bella in every other regard. That doesn’t excuse his creepy actions, of course, but there is in canon logic to it to justify it and make sense.

I’d say LO could use this too, but tbh it wouldn’t work. Either it’d involve making a CEO king as immature and childish as a 19 year old (not great) or it’d have a 19 year old suddenly be way wiser beyond her years which wouldn’t make much narrative sense, but also has some really creepy implications to it. Anyway RS dug herself into a stupid hole and doesn’t know how to get out of it.

6. im in the same boat 😭 i was watching one of those LO critique videos you posted and they were showing panels from early on and i just thought "they photoshopped this, right? theres no way it looked this bad. they're just goofing around with this" and nope, that's exactly how they looked the video didnt change a thing. the bright colors really were distracting your eyes from seeing how bad it looked.

7. Correct me if i’m wrong but in one of the first few episodes wasn’t Hades annoyed with Persephone? Especially at the panel where she wanted to drive his car? Like nothing has really changed in her behaviour with him apart from her being more flirty, but the only change is that Hades started viewing her more sexually. Always thinking about her breasts and butt, and nothing else. Half the time he was thinking about her, he wouldn’t even think of her face. So how exactly is their relationship a romantic and lovely one?

#anti lo art #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lo

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haloud · 3 years

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things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 9

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Michael and Isobel reckon with the fallout from Michael’s choices; Maria and Max catch up with him post-recovery.

Excerpt:

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

(Wednesday, 11:00 am)

Michael flipped Alex’s key over and over in his fingers, running it along his knuckles, pressing his thumb into the teeth until they left a locking-imprint on his skin, then doing it all over again. At some point, maybe it would start to feel real, if he reminded himself of the thing often enough.

The repetition and stimulation of the rough teeth, the cool, smooth metal, soothed him as he waited on Isobel’s porch. She’d called him here in the first place, so eventually she’d open the door. Until then, he waited. And as he waited, he thought of Alex, because what else was there to think about these days?

(A thousand things, like Jones and Project Shepherd, Max and Liz, and all the work piling up at Sanders’s, but Alex had a way of blotting everything else out, and, no matter how much his brain tried to get him to feel stupid or naïve or childish for hoping yet again, he was going to let himself bask in that shade for once in his life.)

He hadn’t left Alex’s house, still, except to go to work and get things from his own place. At Alex’s, he was still sleeping in the guest room, the both of them afraid that they’d fall back into their old patterns too fast if they fell right into bed. But during the day they shared that space, a kitchen, a den, existing alongside each other as they read or cooked or composed, and the routine wasn’t so different from the tense and quiet days right after Michael’s injury, but at the same time they were nothing alike, not when each tiny glance could mean so much, not when fingers on the soft rasp of turning pages were fingers he could touch, that could touch him.

Everything was different. It was terrifying, and exhilarating, brand new and nostalgic. It had only been a day; it had only been half their lifetimes.

“Ew, you’re glowing.”

Isobel’s voice started Michael out of his thoughts, and he jumped, shoving Alex’s key into his pocket. She was glaring at him, but still he relaxed, because Isobel’s snark was a form of love and her turning scorn in his direction was a sign things were getting back to normal between them.

“It’s all natural,” he drawled as she stepped aside to let him inside.

“Right. Did something happen, or is this just some lesser known side effect of being brought back from the brink of death.”

“Uh…”

In a way, sort of, if only because Michael’s own stupidity had driven him and Alex closer together, but that wasn’t exactly a direct correlation or anything admirable.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Just…”

He fell silent. How was he supposed to talk about being in love? He’d never done it before, and this was a first he hadn’t anticipated facing.

“Alex and I…” he tried again, but found himself only able to smile, still without words, and he raised his arms in a helpless shrug.

Isobel’s eyebrows raised. “Oh my god.”

“Yep.”

“I’m still pissed at you, but if Manes is making you his side chick after everything, I’m going to rip his spine out through his—”

“Isobel, no! It’s not like that,” Michael laughed, shaking his head.

“Well what’s it like, then? I cannot handle him breaking your heart again when we’re already dealing with Max.”

He replied, “My heart is fully intact,” as he headed in and dropped down on her couch, throwing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “No, uh, Alex and Forrest had a fight, which sucked, but it led to us getting a chance to talk more about, y’know, us, and what we wanted, and each other, so…”

“So this is rebound,” Isobel snipped.

“Can you stop?” Michael said, half-laughing. Even her pessimism on the subject of love couldn’t pop the bubble around his heart right now. He patted the couch beside him, and she hesitated for a few seconds with her arms crossed, before capitulating and joining him.

“Oh, fine,” she groused, leaning against the arm of the couch farthest away from where he was sitting. “Your funeral.”

The words landed like a lead balloon, and Michael winced as her face grew stormier.

“I’m—”

“Don’t,” Isobel held up a hand in his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, what do you want to hear?”

“An explanation, Michael! What the hell were you thinking? Why would you do that? What if he’d just straight up killed you, did you want us to find your body in a cave somewhere or, or never, blown to smithereens by a man who literally breathes fire! You’re so stupid, and selfish, and—” She cut herself off, furious tears welling in her eyes even as the rest of her face didn’t change.

“I know! I know, you’re right, it was stupid. I wasn’t thinking, or, well, I was thinking, but my head was all messed up.” He rested his forehead in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think any explanation is going to make any sense now, out of the moment, but I just…everything was going to shit, and I couldn’t do anything for Max, and I thought Jones might have answers, or could help me unlock new powers like you’ve done on your own. So I could protect everyone.”

Isobel threw her arms up and got to her feet, pacing around the couch; Michael tracked her, anxiety dipping and spiking every time she circled him. Her anger pulsing when she passed behind him made his skin crawl, and he shifted in his seat.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she finally spoke, stopping in front of him.

He kept his head bent forward, staring at his knees.

She continued, “I really don’t. I’ve been trying for twenty-one years, but I still don’t know how to get through to you. How to convince you that you’re not alone, that people want to protect you. To help you. But I’m not Max. I’ve never pushed or pried or fought to cling onto you when you shook us off. I just hung around because I knew you’d always come back.” She took a deep breath. Her voice stayed steady and deliberate. “But Michael, this has gone on for too long, and you went too far this time. You have to let us help you. Otherwise—I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Drops of water speckled the tops of Michael’s knees, and he sniffed, swallowed, mouth dry, throat tight and aching. His sister’s gentle hands threaded through his hair, cradling both temples, right hand over Max’s lingering handprint, but no matter how careful that touch was, he flinched.

Isobel tipped his head up so he had to look her in the eye and said, “You’re my brother, Michael. I love you so much. And I would do anything for you, just like you would—and have—do anything for me. But you need to let me! From here on out, I need you to fucking work with me. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Tears trickling down his face and dripping from his chin, Michael nodded, not trusting his voice, and Isobel fell forward, his arms opening up to catch her, and they stayed like that for a long time, Michael rocking her back and forth, her clinging desperately to his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Max. I just, I can’t stop myself, sometimes, I know it’s not an excuse, I know it was stupid, I know—”

“I know,” she interrupted his stream of self-loathing, sitting back to look him seriously in the face. “I was in your head, remember?”

She’d found him beneath a vaulted ceiling, stained glass in shifting, alive, alien colors, walled in with his demons. Defining himself inside the devouring maelstrom by the battles he understood. His whole life, he’d sewed himself back whole, and his work wasn’t pretty, but the patterns made sense, and they kept him sane even when the odds demanded otherwise. The image flashed behind his eyes, but that’s all it was, an image. He shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Well. I didn’t really go snooping, no matter how tempting it was,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “But let’s just say…you don’t owe me any explanations you aren’t willing or ready to give. Those belong to you. I know I haven’t always understood that in the past. We both have things to work on, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael rasped, squeezing her tight again. “I…want to work on them with you.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to be okay,” she softly replied.

(3:00 pm)

Isobel didn’t let him leave the house until both their eyes stopped being red and puffy from crying; It took multiple episodes of some Food Network show he’d never heard of before she agreed to let him out of her sight, and, in deeply un-Isobel-like fashion, she followed him to the door and pulled him into another hug for the road before she let him leave.

The drive from Isobel’s to the Wild Pony wasn’t really long enough to fully ruminate on how bad he must have scared Isobel to warrant this level of reaction. Logically, he’d known, but emotionally it was just beginning to sink in.

Over the past year, he’d been faced with losing Isobel and with losing Max multiple times—had lost Max, in fact. He knew how it felt. Why should the loss of himself be any different to them? In low moments, sure, thoughts shifted beneath the murk of his mind, lurking demons from childhood, that they didn’t need him, they had each other, a more special bond, he was the odd one out, outside, out in the cold. But on the day to day, he didn’t devalue himself like that, not in so many words, did he? But—

To be surprised? That Isobel was afraid, that Max was afraid, that the both of them stood on the precipice of grieving him and had to process the horror of that fall after snatching themselves back at the last minute? It was a slap in the face, a rude awakening. A lesson that for all these years he’d resisted learning.

The first step to protecting those who loved him was to protect himself. He couldn’t keep shelving it as the lowest priority. They were one and the same.

It sounded fake to his own ears, but he’d just have to say it until the lesson sunk in.

With the windows rolled down, the idle breeze tugged Michael’s hair across his face and cooled the late-summer stickiness from his skin. It was just after lunchtime, a little early for Max to be at work, but since he wasn’t at Isobel’s house, it was faster to check for him here than to drive all the way out to his own place.

If there was one positive to his near-death, it was the way Max was invigorated by a purpose. The healing drained him, of course it did; it could have killed him, and that weighed on Michael’s conscience, but afterward, after it worked and he’d pulled Michael back from death, he smiled. He slept. He bustled around Alex’s house babysitting Michael while Alex was at work, and now, with a little distance from fragile death, that didn’t chafe as badly.

Max deserved a better thanks than Michael had thus far been able to render, and with Isobel’s words still ringing in his ears, there was no better time than now.

He pulled up to the Pony, the fairy lights strung across the patio dancing in the wind, the wood of the old building all pale and real in the sunlight. The old, familiar sign above the door was off as long as the bar was closed, but Michael still took a moment to glance at it nice and long, remembering the feel of fixing it under his hands so the whole place felt less liminal, less like a mirror vision of the beating heart that was the Wild Pony glowing under the night sky, lit from within rather than from the sun.

Faint music played as Michael parked and left his truck, so he rounded the corner of the building to suss it out and smiled at what he saw, leaning against one of the trellis supports.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“Oh, you know me.” She gestured vaguely to the arrangement of papers and tucked her feet up beside her, leaning toward Michael, cutting the space between them in half like it wasn’t worth noticing. Some of the tension in Michael’s chest unwound at her ease around him.

“Hustling?” he prompted.

“Yep. I’m just organizing the events I have planned for the upcoming season and making sure I have space set out for scheduling, details, budgeting, the works. High school me would die with envy; my system was never this good when I was trying to study.”

“I’m definitely impressed. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with, anything you need built, or an extra set of ‘hands’ for decorating.”

“How is that going?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“I’m still getting my strength back. Just gotta keep pushing through and hope whatever Jones did didn’t mess me up for good.”

“I’m sure he didn’t.”

Her hand extended but stopped before touching him, until he turned his hand palm-up, asking her to take it. She did, squeezing him.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “And the TK aside, have any of the other powers cropped up? The light, the teleporting? Those were the ones Alex told me about.”

“That’s all I remember, really. And no. I haven’t even tried, honestly.” He looked at their joined hands, her wrist bare of the pollen bracelet he’d promised her and wasted, thrown away like trash in a corner of Jones’s cave. This is blasphemy…

“Do you think you will? Try?” Maria asked, head tilted.

“I…hadn’t thought about it. Been focused on getting back to square one with the TK, but…”

Was doing more with his powers still an option? Was he willing to try, and fail, and fail again, without folding and submitting to all the voices in his head that told him every failure was proof positive of the erstwhile adage that he was worthless?

“Well, you have time,” Maria said, squeezing his hand again.

“What about you?” Michael asked. “Any visions?”

Her face shut down. She let go of his hand to smooth both hers down her knees then fold her arms around herself, turning her head away. “No. Still nothing. A few dreams, but it isn’t always easy to tell what’s a normal dream and what’s a vision, and with you out of the woods, the most dire ones are already Jossed.”

“What about Mimi?”

“Huh.” Maria pursed her lips for a second, then said, “I haven’t noticed any change in her? But I’ll have to ask and see what she says. I’m not even completely sure our powers work identically, with the things she’s said about being unstuck in time…I don’t always get that same feeling.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael promised her. “Even if it means having to go back to Jones and ask what he knows—”

“No!”

She wheeled on him and smacked his arm lightly.

“Absolutely not! Michael!”

“Not alone, obviously!” He defended.

“Not at all. Jesus Christ. I’ll tell Isobel you said that—I’ll tell Alex—”

“Maria, c’mon,” Michael whined, taking her hand again in an attempt to connect them and calm them both down. “I just don’t want to rule out that he’s meddling in more ways than we know. I still think he’s fucking with Max. You deserve answers, if that’s what’s going on.”

“Not at the cost of your life. Not ever. It could be a hundred other things, too. Stay away from him, Michael, I’m serious.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly, wrapping her arm around his again and leaning into him. He let out a long, slow breath as she relaxed.

“You know, in Jones’s cave…”

“Mm?”

Michael carefully encircled her wrist with his fingers. “I lost the bracelet I made for you. The backup one I promised.”

“Are you feeling guilty about that? Because please, don’t,” she replied, covering the hand on her wrist with her other. “That is the last thing on my mind.”

“But I—”

“Hush. I’m glad you had it with you, whatever happened to it. It’s good that you opted to protect yourself, even if it didn’t work.”

“I thought your powers were offline.”

“The visions, maybe. But I don’t need to see the future to read you, Guerin.”

“You are something else, DeLuca.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Hey, Maria—oh! Michael!”

The two of them turned toward the backdoor at the sound of Max’s voice.

“Hey, Max,” Maria said. “Is the inventory finished?”

“Yeah, I was just coming to report back.”

“No need to be so formal,” she teased, standing up and brushing dust from the seat of her pants, looking at the papers around her with her hands on her hips. “I was hoping to get your opinion on some plans, Number One, but someone interrupted, so they’re not quite ready yet.”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael drawled.

Max reached out a hand, and Michael took it to humor him, letting him haul him to his feet.

“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” Maria said as she led the way back into the bar, cool and dim in the daylight. “You can sweep up to say you’re sorry.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said, reaching out a hand, hoping he could summon the broom as nonchalantly as he once could. It sat unresponsive until a spike of formless frustration zipped through him, at which point it flew to his hand fast and hard enough to sting his palm when he caught it. Great. Just what he needed right now—puberty flashbacks.

“I need to run,” Maria said, stowing her binder behind the bar. “Late lunch with Rosa. I’ll see you later, Max—Michael, it was so good to see you. Say hi to Alex for me, okay? I know you’re gonna see him before I do.”

She left with a wink while Michael was still pink and stammering. Maybe Alex had told her already—or maybe that was just Maria, putting him so at ease it was easy to forget how much she saw. His chest glowed so warm he couldn’t stop blushing at that casual acknowledgement, that easy validation, that he and Alex—that Alex and he were what they were to each other, now, again.

“Wait, is she talking about you staying over there, or does she mean—dude!” Max grinned ear to ear and bounded out from behind the bar to pull Michael into a back-slapping hug. “Congratulations!”

Old, brotherly habit had Michael squirming out of Max’s affections, but it didn’t dent his exuberance; he retaliated with a swipe through Michael’s hair, making him duck further out of range, huffing and laughing all at once as he tried to fix it again.

“Yeah, um, Forrest and Alex broke up, and then one thing led to another, so.”

“I’m really happy for you, man.”

“I—thanks. I’m…I’m really happy, too.”

The sudden urge to comfort Max gripped him, a strange survivor’s guilt that things would be working out for him and Alex and Max and Liz would still be so far apart. But it wasn’t his place to throw that in Max’s face now, so he bit his tongue and basked in Max’s honest happiness for him.

“Could you feel, uh, any of my emotions through the handprint?” Michael asked. He ran his hand through his hair over the spot on his temple where Jones had held him, erased by Max’s healing hands, then dropped it back to his side abruptly, flexing away the phantom stiffness that still plagued him, that probably always would. He gave it a shake as if to chase away nervous tingling.

“Nah. But it’s not like I’m looking; I respect your privacy, man.”

“’preciate that,” Michael snarked, and Max just shrugged.

“Any particular reason you ask? I don’t need to know what you and Alex are up to,” Max joked.

Michael considered his answer for a little bit as he made his way between the tables. After all, it wasn’t as if this was the first handprint Max had ever given him. The ones on his neck and hand cut off by his death aside, dozens of times over dozens of years, Max had practiced healing on him and they’d explored that connection. Michael was always the guinea pig; he never wanted for injuries to work on, after all.

But there’d been a lot of handprinting over the past year and change. Max felt something from Liz; Liz felt something from Noah; Rosa and Max had a connection strong enough to tether Max to the world of the living. And then there was Michael, with Jones’s voice in his ear, dripping condescending words about his lack of psychic ability being phenomenal, considering.

At various times in his life, Michael had looked up at the stars and wondered in the silence what it was in him that was irreparably broken.

“Just curious. It’s been a while, and all juiced up like I was, I was wondering if anything felt different.”

“Nothing different. Just you.”

Max smiled like that was a good thing, a comforting thing. And you know what? In between the adrenaline of change, good and bad, in between the rock of Project Shepherd and the hard place of Jones, on an afternoon in a closed bar, a home to both of them, alone with his brother, Michael let it be.

He cleared his throat. “Good. So there’s no…interference or anything? Nothing weird lurking around up there?”

“Not that I can tell; Isobel would probably know better than I would. Whatever he did to you was bizarre, man. It wasn’t like the way, uh, the way I’ve killed people before. Or the way Noah killed.”

“I don’t think he was just trying to kill me.”

Michael made his way over to a booth and beckoned Max over; he lingered over his work for a glance at the clock and then came and joined him.

He continued, “He kept going on about teaching and knowledge and this being the wrong way but the most efficient. He knew it would hurt me, but maybe it would have worked better if he did it to someone more, uh, receptive than me.”

“What are you talking about?” Max leaned over the table, brow furrowed. This close up, the dark circles below his eyes were more noticeable. “Michael, what he did to you wasn’t in any way your fault—”

“I know, I know, that’s not what I mean. Just…look, I saw the security footage from Caulfield, from the day of the Valenti incident. The way that alien approached Jim Valenti and put his hands on him was identical to what Jones did to me, and I think maybe that guy was just trying to communicate but it fucked up a human in a way he either couldn’t expect or was too out of it to realize. And, well,” Michael gestured to his own head. “I’m the most human of the three of us up here.”

“I…huh.” Max sat back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he processed that. “Well, whatever the case, it proved you and Isobel were right about him. He can’t be trusted. Nobody should have any more contact with him. We’ll start doing our monthly drop offs contactless until we all figure out what should be done with him.”

His voice was firm, businesslike. Traffic Stop Max was Michael’s least favorite version of his brother and he’d hoped that his turn to the civilian would’ve put that guy to rest, but he had a tendency to rear his head in a crisis.

But in this case, he saw through him, and that façade was hiding something.

“How do you feel about that?” Michael asked, leaning back and slouching, reflecting Max’s rigid body language the way he had for a decade, cops and robbers style.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. He almost killed you; we’ll do what has to be done.”

“Uh, it definitely does matter. You’re the closest thing to a next of kin he’s got, as far as we know. If anyone gets to decide what happens to him, it’s you.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Is it? ‘Cause, look, I know I fucked up a lot of stuff running off to Jones half-cocked like I did. I don’t want to set off a chain reaction of more bad mistakes that rips us apart again when we’re just startin’ to…” Michael trailed off with a self-conscious shrug. It was realer than he’d intended to get, but it was the root of the issue, wasn’t it?

Max’s face softened, and Michael slumped lower in the booth.

“You’re not. You won’t.”

“You’re just saying that—”

“Michael.”

That tone was always a coin flip if it’d get right under Michael’s skin or if it’d shut him up. It landed on the second one this time, to Michael’s relief.

Max said, “No chain reactions. What we were doing before wasn’t working, okay? I knew I wanted something from Jones, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and take it. All you did was force us to make a choice when I would’ve dug my heels in and not been able to for a long time otherwise.”

“The answers you’re looking for, though, you deserve to look for them if it’s what you need,” Michael forged on, battling his clumsy tongue. “I should’ve said that before. You deserve to know who you are and to learn who that is in whatever way you can. Everybody deserves that.”

“Thank you. I mean that. But I was getting so desperate—the things I was thinking of doing—I scared myself, okay? I didn’t think—I don’t think I am that person. And being this person I am right now and who I want to be right now is more important than any answers about the past, if that’s what it means to find them.”

Michael sat with that, looking Max up and down, sitting with his own feelings as much as Max’s words. Parsing his own reactions to Max was something he took steadier, more carefully than most other things in his life. It was a set of muscles he needed to practice with as much as he needed to get power back to his telekinesis.

“Okay, man. I respect that,” he said finally, leaning over the table to punch Max in the shoulder. Max made a face and rubbed that spot.

“Ow, man, thanks, I guess.”

“Damn, did I get you in your writing arm?”

“Try my drink-mixing arm. If I’m off tonight, I’m ratting you out to Maria.”

Michael let out a scandalized noise and slipped out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” Max laughed, dark eyes shining with life in a way Jones’s never could. For all they were identical, Michael barely saw the resemblance.

“To lay low, what do you think? You’re makin’ me a fugitive.”

“Uh huh. Good luck; you know she’s just going to ask Alex.”

“Damn it. The things I do for love.”

A smile on his own face as soon as he turned his back, Michael was almost at the door when Max called his name and he turned to face him again.

“Michael? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Asking. Listening.”

Those two words held a lifetime of desperate loneliness between them, and Michael would be sitting with that, too, as long as he was holding it in his head, making it a conscious decision, to do right by his brother.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.

“I wanted to,” Max replied simply.

“Well in that case…I guess you’re welcome.”

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket, not the single pulse of a text but the longer jangling of a phone call. He fished it out, smiling when he saw the name, and he didn’t even wait to get privacy from Max before answering.

“Alex—”

“Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

“Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Max hurried to Michael’s side.

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

But the line cut off midway through his protest, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone.

#my fic #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #malex

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unmaskedagain · 5 years

Text

Marinette: Iron Man’s Minion

Marinette: Tony’s Stark new Minion.

I have this random story idea of Marinette meeting Tony Stark. It creates fun dynamic with the avengers who begin to questions just how many children Tony has. This story might not go anywhere apart from a few headcannons so be warned.

Most people meet Tony Stark at the Stark Expo. Some are unfortunate enough to meet Tony when he’s rescuing them in the Iron Man suit.

However, when Stark Industries decide that after the events of Slovakia, thankfully Loki had been there to stop the worst of Ultron’s plan thus saving nearly everyone’s life, a little good press wouldn’t hurt.

Stark Industries quietly announced a competition to young inventors of the world: whoever designs the best new Iron Man suit wins a replica Iron man. When one little French girl wins, however it’s the stuff of her dreams.

Or at least Marinette thought so at first.

When the Parisian hero learned of the competition, she decided to pull out her old sketches of the iron man suit. She had always admired the sleekness of it but thousands ideas always hit her on how it could improve appearance wise. Marinette decided to submit her favorite design, never think it was ever a possibility that she’d win.

In fact Marinette was so sure she’d lose, that she didn’t pay attention when the winner was announced. She didn’t find out until her phone rang and Pepper Potts was on the other side of the videotime.

Tony Stark loved her suit design and instead of a shoddy helmet, the real prize was for the Winner to come to New York, meet the avengers, and work with The Tony Stark for the entire summer as an intern.

Marinette had never screamed so loud in her life. Her parents were thrilled at the idea of Marinette getting away from the dangers of all the Akumas and the drama of her class.

Honestly, Marinette thought it was her lucky break. She hadn’t made a single plan for the summer. All of her so called friends had taken to giving her the cold shoulder thanks to Lila and her lies. Marinette hadn’t even been invited to the class’s annual end of the year party. Whenever she tried to make plans with them. They were always too busy or just plain ignored her but then they go right ahead and make plans in front of her.

Marinette had been in tears by the end of term.

She tried to tell Alya she was leaving to New York but was met with contempt. Alya and Marinette’s friendship was non-existent at that point. And whatever childhood friendship she once had with Nino, died with it. Right or wrong, he always took the side of his girlfriend.

Kim trailed behind Lila like a lost puppy, further cementing he had terrible taste in women.

The most interaction Marinette had with Alix was when the pink-haired girl when out of her way to trip Marinette.

Rose said quietly whispered to Marinette that she didn’t want to cause problems with her other friends so they couldn’t talk much anymore. Juleka follow suit.

Adrien watched it all with a passive expression on his face like he didn’t know the truth. It was then that Marinette realized the boy didn’t care what the truth was as long as he didn’t have to deal with conflict.

As far as Marinette was concerned she didn’t have a single friend left in class. Just like Lila threatened. The only good thing that came from it was that Marinette that she wouldn’t care what people thought. Marinette decided to always say whats on her mind no matter what.

Jagged said it made her very sassy, and so very ROCK AND ROLL.

Marinette arrived at Stark Tower three days after school ended. She had jumped twenty feet when she stepped into the elevator and a voice greeted her.

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” A voice said.

“Uh, bonjour?” Marinette said. “Please call me Marinette. And you are, sir?”

“I am Jarvis.”

Marinette nodded. She had heard about the AI that help run Tony Stark’s world. “How are you doing today, Jarvis?” She asked it.

There was a moment of silence. Most people, a part of his creator, had never asked Jarvis how he was.

“Less chaotic than usual,” Jarvis said with a dry amused tone that left Marinette wondering if A.I could be amused.

Marinette straightened up and her blue eyes narrowed, “You are not being worked too hard, right? You get time to yourself?”

Jarvis assured her that he did and that he liked his job. They went onto have a pleasant conversation about their most exciting experiences and Marinette’s future dreams.

Marinette didn’t know that currently Tony was watching the interaction from his workshop with a grin on her face. He had wanted to know just who he’d be working with. So far, Frenchy looked like a keeper.

When the elevator doors opened, Marinette followed Jarvis’s instructions on where to go. And that she was to wait in the living room until Tony came for her. It was then she discovered something about the A.I.

“You’re a bit of a jerk, Jarvis,” Marinette whispered when she walked into the living room where nearly all of the Avengers were hanging out and watching… Spongebob?

Unfortunately, Tony had been drinking coffee at the time and ended up doing a spit take all over dummy.

It took all of two second for the avengers to notice the fourteen-year-old girl standing there.

The bluenette’s face turned bright red. It took everything in her not to start screaming and jumping up and down.

“Oh god, cap” Clint said, “One of your fangirls

“Fangirl? Oh please,” Marinette scoffed. “Have you seen the disaster of a costume he wears into battle? Not in this lifetime!”

Unfortunately, again, for Tony and Dummy, Tony had taken another drink from his coffee at the moment.

“She’s trying to kill me,” Tony coughed. “Worth it.” He said with his eyes still glued the screen.

The avengers just stared for a moment. Steve Rogers blinked hard, “What?”

“No offense,” Marinette quickly said. “I’m just really into fashion. And I cannot and will not be seen as fan of man who dresses like America’s drunk prom date.”

Clint fell off the couch laughing.

“She’s not wrong,” Natasha shrugged as she eyed the girl with a smirk.

Steve cast the spider a look, and turned frown to Marinette, “I wore that uniform to war.”

“Like World War 2 wasn’t tragic enough,” Marinette said dryly.

“Jarvis!” Tony yelled as he ran from the workshop still trying to watch his new favorite. “Get me some adoption papers.”

“Sir, she has parents,” Jarvis tried to reason.

“Didn’t anyone teach ya to respect your elders? A voice said behind her.

Unfortunately for the newcomer, Marinette flight or fight instincts had been firmly in fight mode for quite some time. As she quickly spun around and kicked the guy in the face. And that was how Marinette met the Winter Soldier. She broke his nose.

Bucky crashed into the wall with a force that left his head spinning.

“Peter always wanted a sibling,” Tony told Jarvis with a joyful look.

“And May Parker still hasn’t given you permission to adopt him either.”

“Sorry!” Marinette yelled frantically as she moved to help the man. “I didn’t mean to, I promise. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

“Besides your dignity back,” Sam added with the biggest grin on his face. “Because that’s gone, man. Like forever.”

Marinette shot him a glare, and turned her the disheveled man. She noticed the bloody nose and her panic increased tenfold. “Oh god. Oh god.” She pulled a cloth napkin from her purse and held it up to Bucky’s face. She looked around the room, hysterically, and spotted Bruce Banner, “Dr. Banner, help please.”

“I’m not that type of doctor,” Banner quickly said.

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “Today you are.”

Bruce blinked. He felt the big guy rumble in amusement. He quickly got up to help.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said as he tried to wave her off and move towards the others. “Nice kick by the way.”

“You,” She pointed at Bucky. “Be quiet. You hit your head and might have a concussion.”

Bruce instructed Marinette to remove the napkin as he examine his patient.

“Tis merely a flesh wound,” Thor boomed as he strutted over to look. “Nothing to worry about.” He moved to place his hand on the girl’s shoulder but before he could…

“Touch me and I will break that hand,” The girl suddenly said, her back to the blond god.

Thor’s hand froze in midair. Marinette turned and looked at him. “Go sit back on the couch.” She ordered in such a way that Thor was reminded of his longtime friend Sif.

“I-” Thor started but was cut off.

“Now!”

Thor flinched back. The blue eyes watched him sternly as he slowly went back to the couch like a puppy with his tail between his legs. Far from the scary small girl.

“Pepper would love her!”

“Yes, but she’d be furious about a kidnapping.”

“How is he, Dr. Banner?” Marinette asked.

Banner decided right then shrugging would get him killed. “He’s fine. It’s just small break. He’ll be fine in an hour.” He got a skeptical look. “Super soldier, he heals fast.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Marinette said brightly.

“Come on,” Marinette told Bucky soothingly. “Let get you on the couch.”

Bucky just let himself be led with a sigh. Why did the small, tiny ones always give him the most trouble?

The other avengers moved out of their way.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked again when sat the wounded man on the couch. “Do you need anything? Do you want the remote control? I can get you the remote control.”

Said current owner of the remote control, Scott, looked up like a deer in the headlights. He froze when the French girl’s blue eyes found him and they narrowed in challenge. Scott barely noticed Sam slowly inch himself away from his teammate.

“Asshole,” Scott hissed to Falcon.

“What did you just say?” Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“I said: Here’s the remote,” He tossed it prized possession the Winter Solider who had a smirk on his face. He knew just how hard it was to maintain control of the TV in a home of superheroes.

Marinette caught it in midair. She passed it to Bucky.

“Thanks!” Bucky smirked at Scott as he said it. “I’m good now. I swear.”

Marinette nodded contently.

“Ahh Marinette,” Tony said as he entered the room. The smug expression on his face and in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the avengers. “Sorry I’m late. Come on, I’ll show you where we’ll be working.”

Marinette grinned and ran over to the Tony Stark.

“Wait, who are you, tiny vicious girl?” Clint suddenly yelled.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She introduced herself brightly, looking very much like the sweet school girl they originally thought she was.

“My new intern,” Tony smirked. Then within seconds the genius pulled Marinette out of the room and disappeared from sight as Jarvis slammed the doors behind them

Natasha hummed, “Tony always managed find the most interesting kids. First the spiderling and now…”

“The Devil,” Sam finished. “I have older sisters. Fear the wrath of a teenager girl.”

“She’s here all summer,” Steve remember feeling oddly self-conscious.

Bucky chuckled and propped his feet of the coffee table, “Aww, don’t worry punk, I won’t let the mean powderpuff bully you.”

“So Dominator,” Tony said as the stepped into the elevator. “You really know how to make an entrance. I like that in a minion.”

“Minion?” Marinette squeaked. “Mr. Stark?”

What exactly had she signed up for?

The elevator doors opened. “Call me Tony,” He said spread his arms wide as he showed of the workshop. “So this is where the magic happens.”

For the next few hours, Marinette toured the workshop and the tower. Tony really did love the suit she had drawn but had been a bit dismayed that Marinette didn’t have too much experience in the science. Marinette was a quick learned though, and Tony was impressed about how quickly she picked up information.

Happy, the driver who had picked Marinette up from the airport and who grumbled about always being stuck with teenagers, had brought up her bags as he had said he would and left it in her room.

Marinette didn’t run into any of the other avengers again until the next day. She got up bright and early, the sun still rising, as she was still used to waking up and helping her baker parents. Plus jetlag.

With Jarvis help, she easily found the kitchen. To her dismay, the fridge was full of junk food, take out boxes, and protein shakes. And coffee. Lots of clearly expensive coffee.

She sighed and got to baking. There was plenty of ingredients to work with as the kitchen was well stocked up unused. Within the next few hours, the kitchen and thus the entire tower was filled with the sweets smells usually only found in the bakery.

Marinette had made chocolate croissants, a variety of muffins, Berries and Cream Cheese Breakfast Pastries that her father swore by, and spinach, bacon, mushroom, and cheese quiches. She even made a pot of coffee. All spread out on the dining room table before eight am.

The first to make their way up to see what smelled so good was Natasha.

“Good morning,” Natasha said. “Been busy?”

“Morning,” Marinette beamed. “Daughter of bakers. Hungry?”

Bucky came next. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he had on dark sweatpants. He look half asleep as He grunted a hello as he sat down to eat.

A lovely girl named Wanda and a man Vision, who was apparently Jarvis’ son, came up next. Marinette hadn’t met either of them yesterday but they had heard of her.

The next person to show was Clint but he took one look at Marinette and made a hasty retreat.

“Baby!” Natasha and with a grumble, Clint came back into the room.

“Hawkeye, right?” Marinette asked.

Clint eyed her. “Yes,” he answered as he sat down next to the Black Widow. “And if you kill me, Nat will avenge me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“What!” He cried. “I’m your best friend.”

The redhead looked at him and then at the berry, cream cheese goodness in her hands, then at Marinette. She looked back at Clint, “You’ve been replaced.” When he went to protest some more, Natasha shoved a chocolate scone in his mouth.

His green eyes widened as the flavor exploded. He looked at the scone, then at Marinette, then at all the food on the table. Clint nodded solemnly, “I understand.” And made himself a plate.

Marinette giggled at the antics.

Tony entered the room, hair on ends, greasy t-shirt on and blinked hard at the feast at the table.

“I made breakfast,” Marinette handed him a cup of coffee cheerfully when he sat down. “Sweet and savory. I didn’t know what everyone liked.”

He nodded tiredly but perked up as soon as he took a bite of spinach bacon quiche. He swallowed it quickly, “Jarvis?” Tony called.

“You cannot adopt her, sir.”

Thor was next and thanked Marinette loudly for the splendid feast. Scott, Sam, and Bruce arrived next.

Steve came next, apparently just having finished up a run.

The two stared at each other, like a pair of cowboys doing a standoff.

“Listen… about what I said yesterday,” Marinette started. “I, one hundred percent meant it. Your fashion sense is appalling. But please consider this a peace offering.”

“My style was very popular in the forties!” Steve defended.

Bucky snorted, “Liar.”

That sounded off around of laughter.

Marinette spent the next few weeks help Tony design his new suit, got trained with Natasha, Bucky and Steve, and went frequently to Stark Industries with Pepper Potts. (Though Steve had quite liked it when Marinette point at Pepper and said, “See that’s fashion. Gold standard right there. You, no.”

She met Peter Parker not long after she arrived. He was a nice boy with glasses that reminded her a bit of herself. Tony had guardianship of Peter while his aunt was overseas on business.

“Minion three,” He greeted her. Peter sat down across from her work table and started on his own project.

“Four?” She asked, with a chuckle. “And you are?”

Peter grinned, “Minion two.” He shrugged. “Riri’s three. Harley’s one. And is the union leader. They’ll be here tonight.”

Marinette laid down her screwdriver, “There’s a union.”

“No there’s not!” Tony yelled.

Peter leaned over the table and whispered, “We revolt at dawn.”

“God dammit, Peter!”

Marinette cackled.

It wasn’t long before the paparazzi got wind of Marinette. Then suddenly the magazines were filled with Marinette: Stark’s secret FOURTH love child. Marinette literally fell down laughing when War Machine stomped in the workshop and three a magazine at Tony’s head. “Another one, Tony? Didn’t even tell me!”

She was photographed frequently as whenever she left the company an overprotective avenger was sure to join her. She was teen vogue’s best dressed list. In tiger beat’s, things Marinette just can’t live without.

That was when her phone started ringing and texts started pouring in from Paris. Unfortunately, for her ex friends, Marinette had promised that for the rest of summer the only people from France she’d talk to were her parents. And Marinette keeps her promises.

So she never bother to look at the texts. The only time she interacted was when she had to use the horse miraculous to portal to home to stop an Akuma. Which was hard to hide from a group of nosy superheroes.

Everything was going fine until the Kwami was let out of the bag in the middle of a family/team dinner.

Loki poofed in one day, walked straight up to Marinette, and demanded to speak with Plagg.

“The Kwami of Destruction owes me money,” Loki said easily.

Said Kwami flew out from where he was hiding, “Do not! You cheated.”

And that was that.

Marinette had no choice but to transform into Ladybug.

To which Happy groaned, “Another teen bug themed hero,” He glared at Tony. “You did this on purpose.”

None of the avengers had been happy about a teen superhero battle a terrorist on her own. Peter, Spiderman, just high-fived her.

#Marienette Dupain Cheng #Marinette deserves better #tony stark #Avengers #spiderman #ml salt #ml fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #thor

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2ndaryreactsandscenarios · 4 years

Text

Seventeen Mafia Reaction to: Let Me Protect You At Least

The members have taken quite a liking to you. But you get a little too close and wind up caught in a ploy. Leave it to them to make a scene and save you in the process.

Keep in mind this is some literal nonsense cliche “mafia” reaction content. Enjoy the content!

Trigger WARNING: Mentions of deaths of nameless and no face criminals/ kidnappers.

S.Coups/ Seungcheol (Caring and Observant ,The Dominating Rapper )

S.Coups wouldn’t bother with niceties when it came to you being taken. Rather it now became personal and he had a score to settle. He’d make sure that every single person involved with your kidnapping would suffer and rot. Once everyone was taken care of, he would go up to you and untie you. You would of course be scared, but happy to see him. Yet he surprised you when he simply said, “This is the last time you’ll see me. I’m not going to risk losing you over my job. So when we leave here, we’re nothing but strangers.”

S.Coups would keep his distance from that point on, resisting the urge to look after you yet failing every time. He made it a habit to at least confirm daily that you were safe. Just because he said you’d be strangers didn’t mean he didn’t care.

Jeonghan (Cheating Mischief Maker, the Angelic Voice )

Again, not called the Shadow Man for nothing. Jeonghan would kill everyone involved and he’d do it completely undetected. By the time anyone suspected anything, they were already as good as dead. Jeonghan wouldn’t say a word as he untied you and he wouldn’t dare to keep his eyes off of you. It was only once you were both in a place he deemed safe that he finally spoke to you.

“Is this what you had in mind when you wanted to get to know me? Maybe now you get it. You cannot get close to me and not expect this sort of thing to happen. This is my final warning. Leave me alone and you get to live. Otherwise situations like this will come up again. I like you alive and I think you do too. Leave and don’t you dare appear in front of me again.”

Jeonghan would speak harshly to you and he would do everything in his power to resist finding you again. But he understood that with his reputation and the nature of his job, it didn't matter how cute he found you. He wanted you to be safe and happy. That wasn’t really an option with him as he was.

Joshua/ Jisoo (Joking Gentleman, The Peaceful Voice )

Joshua would use all the tricks he picked up from the members as well as his intelligence to outsmart the enemy. He’d lure them away from you and rescue you. By the time anyone noticed you were gone, police would have already flooded the place. Once in the safehouse, Joshua, who is normally cool and collected, would wind up venting out all his frustration and anger at you.

“Do you see that? Those people could have killed you and gotten away with it. All because you were related to me in some way. I’m not someone you should associate with and you are going to be much safer and happier without me. I have a lot of people’s deaths on my conscience. I don’t need yours added to it.”

Joshua would make sure that you couldn’t possibly find them again, and he made sure to delete all records of your interactions. It hurt him to do it, because it was like he was erasing everything between you two. He had a program that notified him if anything was out of the ordinary in your life and he made it a point to have personnel protecting you if something seemed off.

Jun/ Junhui (Charismatic Blunt Sir, The Breathtaking Dancer )

Jun would be one to get help from members and he served as the escape, Once you and the members were secure and in the car, he would make sure to one hundred percent lose any enemies within a good 30 minutes flat. Once in the clear, he would take the members back to the safe spot before driving you to somewhere safe. He would glare at you and explain what you would have to do the following days, anger fueling his words the entire time.

Once you reached your destination, Jun sighed visibly upset.

“Did you see how I had to get help from the members? It’s because I don’t have the skills to protect you the way you need me to. I’m weak by myself, and if you’re with someone as weak as me then you’re something worse than dead. Do yourself a favor and when you leave this car, don’t ever find me again. Please.”

Jun would drive away once you were out and he wouldn’t look back no matter how much he wanted to. Once in a while he’d drive out to check on you in your daily life. He knew it was the best thing for you, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Hoshi/ Soonyoung (Comedy Trio ⅓, The Show Stopping Dancer )

Hoshi was good at getting things, so he would wind up making an offer to the bad people who took you. “If you return the hostage, I’ll give you that ultra rare item you wanted. If you pull anything, I’ll have the police on speed dial~”

He’d have members help him just to make sure nothing was up with the deal. Once he made the trade, he tried to leave only to be cornered by them, saying they needed to verify it was real. When they opened the bag it was empty and they asked him if it was a joke. He laughed and said that it was no joke.

“I mean, your corpses make for a pretty rare item don’t you think? I picked the body bags myself.”

Before they had time to react, the other members had taken them down. Hoshi would take you somewhere safe and wouldn’t bother scolding you like the other members.

“Are you okay?”

Hoshi would then silently slip out of your life and would avoid you like the plague. At the end of the story, never does the thief get a lover. He was well aware that you were better off with someone normal and stable.

Wonwoo (Literary Soul, The Emotion Filled Rapper )

Wonwoo would rescue you and try to do as minimal damage as possible. But once you were out of the building, he hit a button causing the entire hideout to burst into flames. As you were getting over the shock of what you just witnessed, Wonwoo pulled you to the getaway car and took you somewhere safe. He didn’t say a word, but you could feel the anger from a mile away. He wasn’t angry with you, rather himself for even letting this be possible. He blamed himself in every way and he needed to make sure this never happened again.

He sighed once you reached the destination, his anger seeming to leave his body.

“Listen… Stay here for a few days. You don’t have to worry about anything. Just stay here and out of sight. You won’t have to worry about this happening again. Now get out of the car please and talk to the man at the desk.”

Wonwoo would cut all contact with you and resume his regular slated program. But he did catch himself thinking of you now and again.

Woozi/ Jihoon (Brilliant Creator, The Tranquil Vocal )

Woozi made sure to get every single person involved arrested and sentenced to life. He had his ways and he made sure that the police would do their best to protect you. Once you returned home, he was already there waiting for you.

“I don’t think I need to give any more warnings and I don’t think my point could be proven any clearer. For your best interest you need to stay away from me and the members. You are too good of a person to get tied up with all of this nonsense. You actually have a choice… I was able to save you this time, but this will be the only time. So stay away from me and the others.”

Woozi would constantly check with Dino to make sure they were still protecting you, and he would check often to make sure you were actually safe.

DK/ Dokyeom (Comedy Trio ⅓, The Killer Smile and Soul Vocal )

DK would make a trade to get you back. Boasting it as one of his most wanted properties in return for you. The enemy was pretty overjoyed about the deal, and the entire time DK had the same big smile. It was only when they were taken outside the location did they give you to DK. He smiled at you and looked back at the kidnappers going into his property, that certainly looked lavish on the outside. Once everyone had gone inside he pulled out a handgun and shot the driver, before hitting a detonator that made the whole building burst into flames. DK finally stopped smiling and looked at you.

“Do you think you could ever be with someone like me? I just killed those men, not even considering whether they had anyone waiting for them. I’m certain one day I’ll just end like those men. I can’t even control that end and I may even deserve it. But you…”

DK looked at you with a softness in his eyes.

“You don’t deserve that though. And I control whether that happens to you. Leave. I’m begging you to leave. I don’t want this to ever happen again.”

DK had set the whole thing up where he found an old warehouse and dolled the place up a big on the exterior. He was thinking of turning it into something when he found out you had been taken. Despite his initial plans, he forfeit his plans and rigged the place with bombs made by Mingyu. From that night on, he refused to find you or even so much as let you cross his mind. Constantly reminding himself that this was for the best.

Mingyu (“The Tallest~”, The Dynamic Rapper )

Mingyu saved you because the men were foolish enough to take you to a bar. Mingyu would disguise himself as a bartender (not too far off from his real profession) and he went to serve them in their own personal room. By the time he left with you, everyone in the room had been poisoned unconscious. You would follow closely behind Mingyu and ask if he killed them. He would turn around suddenly and glare at you.

“What difference would it make how I answered? Regardless of my answer, you should understand that I do that sort of thing. If people are posing a threat to me, I get rid of them before they get rid of me. Don’t think for a moment that I’m someone too kind to do that sort of thing. You don’t know me and you never will. After this whole thing we both need to lay low. You go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine!! Clear?”

With that Mingyu left you in a relatively open street and went his own way.

Once in a while a member would tell him about you (because once he asked them to keep tabs on you) and he would simply nod in acknowledgment at the information.

The8/ Minghao (Multiple Aspect Photographer, The Agile Dancer )

He killed them within one minute flat, and he wasn’t even in the same room. He made sure to lead you to safety and once there, he sent you a video to your phone.

“There are people who treat a life like something insignificant. I just so happen to be one of those people. All those people I killed to save you mean less than the gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe. You deserve a lot of things, the world even. But you don’t deserve a killer by your side.”

The8 would be sure to keep his distance and if anyone posed a threat, he made sure to handle it personally.

Seungkwan (Comedy Trio ⅓, The MC Power Vocal )

Seungkwan would be able to get you out by causing a distraction while the rest of the members helped take out enemies. A member would help him escape, and he would wind up meeting with you later. Someone would take you elsewhere to clean you up and Seungkwan would be left alone with S.Coups. He would thank him for his help and would only be met with a cold glare from the leader.

“Listen. I get that you like them. But I’m not going to risk our cover every time they get in trouble for just knowing you. This isn’t some movie where we are all laughing and getting along-- this is life or death. Stop pretending to be the good guy when you already get that we are anything but that.”

“But what about them? I can’t just--”

“You can and you will. The members will send them home and you are not to contact them. Because next time I may have to do something I really don’t want to do… Get it?”

The only reason Seungkwan would leave you alone is because S.Coups threatened him to. So he tried to think of any way he could to keep the connection he had with you. But with everyone watching him, this proved difficult.

Vernon/ Hansol (Calm and Collected, The Fly Rapper )

Now I know a ton of you will say no way did Vernon get in by being a friend with these guys, and my answer HAHAHAHAHA-- yes he did. Point blank. PERIOD.

Vernon would wind up calling in a favor and convincing that whole gang to let you go. Why because he is that personable. After making sure you were okay, he would turn really cold and serious with you.

“As you can see, those sort of people are my friends. I think it’s in your best interest to stay as far away from me as possible, unless you want to meet more of my friends who think kidnapping someone is the equivalent of a joke. Stay away from me and you’ll be better than fine.”

Vernon would continue on as he always did and once in a while he would hear through the grapevine that someone had spoken to you from his side of the street. And he would make sure that person would never talk to you or anyone again.

Dino/ Chan (Michael Jackson Fan, The Smooth Dancer )

To say that Dino fabricated the reports and charges these guys a little bit is an understatement. He made it so that police were crawling all over the place and that no inch of the building was left unchecked. And he even was able to work it out where he was the one driving you home.

“It’s one thing for me to be the mole of the others and to constantly risk my neck being a cop too, but I can’t afford to lose the one person I want to protect from it all. When you get out of this car, you are an ordinary civilian and I am a backstabbing cop. So I’m begging you, stay out of this side of things. You’ve only seen a glimpse of how bad things could get. I’m doing this to protect you.”

Dino would make sure you were okay and would constantly resist the urge to check on you or patrol closer to where he knew you were.

Disclaimer: An important thing to note in regards to these reactions/scenarios is that none of them are based on how the members are in real life and are merely a depiction that fits the fiction (as I don’t know the members personally). These are meant to be lighthearted (aside from the angst that continues to rise on this blog) and I hope they are not being taken as pure fact or reality.

If you took the time to read this reaction, thank you so much for your time. Stay happy and healthy! Make yourself a magnificent morning/afternoon/evening/night whenever in time or whenever in the world you may be and I hope to see you all again soon. Bye bye~

#seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios series #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reaction #seventeen reaction series #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #svt reactions #svt reaction #svt imagines #svt imagine #svt scenarios #svt scenario #svt mafia au #seventeen mafia au #seventeen mafia au reaction

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fangirlyah · 4 years

Text

✦ good enough - Finn Shelby x Reader

summary: finn thinks he should prove to others that he's enough and his best idea is to face a boxer in the ring

warnings: mentions of sex, cursing

word count: 1,602

a/n: MY FIRST PEAKY BLINDERS IMAGINE OMG

a typical day in birmingham. clouds, some natural and some others of the smoke, smell of shit and the sound of shots. you were used to it, you’d grown up all your life there, and now that you lived with your boyfriend, finn, in his apartment, bullets were heard closer than before.

as you stepped on the dirty pavement at the entrance to the shelby factory, everyone was looking at you. your beauty always stood out among the darkness of the city, your shiny hair and sympathetic eyes that captured the attention of any man or woman. when the news that you were dating the youngest of the shelby family spread, the surprise was not missing in any home. how someone so delicate and precious would be with a peaky blinder? or worse, a shelby?

neither of you was affected by the absurd conversations of others, you two loved each other that was the only thing that mattered.

"hey johnny!" the long grey corridors seemed endless when you didn’t recognize a familiar face, until johnny appeared in your visual range.

"well hello, mrs. y/l... may I ask what you’re doing here?" It was obvious that he was surprised, polly loved you very much and for that reason she didn’t let you near the factory very much, not even to greet tommy or any brother that was around the place. according to her, it wouldn’t take long for men to put you on everybody’s conversations and grab you behind a wall, to do things that god doesn’t want to hear. anyway, you frequented there.

"I came to pick up finn, he told me this morning to look for him here" in the evenings you used to help out at grace’s charity foundation, you loved kids and what better way to practice your teacher skills than there

"that little piece of shit...he is back in the rings" now it was your turn to look surprised, what was finn doing there?

you just smiled at johnny, to rush through the vast automobile factory and all the other illegal occupations it had inside. when you were only a few steps away from reaching the wooden and glass door that led you to the precarious place of boxing, you began to hear the moans and male screams that indicated that you were in the right place. when you opened the door a smell of sweat invaded you from head to toe, and between the three boxing rings in front of you, you could see your boyfriend fighting with nothing but, bonnie gold.

"what’s he doing?!" you asked tommy once you got to his side, so close to the ring you could hear the painful punches. thomas did not answer, only pulled out a malicious smile as he watched his younger brother bleed, as he was clearly losing. finn didn’t see you, or hear you. the fight was so intense that you thought at that point nothing could stop it. to everyone’s surprise, finn knew how to defend himself; bonnie had taken his good blows but your boyfriend was worse.

aberama laughed quietly, watching his son win. gold’s ambition was big and they were not going to miss the opportunity to beat a shelby. their bodies moved at a great speed and agility through the ring, and there you remembered that finn had already taken boxing lessons years ago and you prayed that he could remember what he had learned.

the fight could have gone on, but a big bang broke them up. it was coming from outside the factory, but still aberama and thomas quietly retreated in search of the blast creator.

both teenagers took some old towels, which were on the side of the ring, to wipe off the sweat. finn turned around looking for his shirt and saw you holding it in your hands. you had taken it to separate it from the spit that bonnie expelled while fighting. you saw your boyfriend’s look clear, but you couldn’t figure out if he was proud that you’d seen him fight or ashamed of it, because after all he was losing.

"you were lucky, shelby, I would have beaten you with one hand if we kept going" bonnie had his back to you while he was talking, so he didn’t know you were there. finn had already come down from the ring and approached you, leaving a sweet kiss on your cheek which you returned with a look of disappointment.

"shut the fuck up" replied the youngest of the shelby, as he put his shirt on, causing gold to turn around and see you standing. you knew he was in love with you, so his presence made you very uncomfortable; especially when you noticed how hard he tried to show his muscles or to get a look under your skirt every time you were around. finn knew it too, and he didn’t like it at all.

"oh little y/n, good to see you!" a malicious and perverted smile appeared on the black haired man’s face, causing finn’s fists to tighten so hard that you thought a fight would break out once again.

"hello, bonnie" short and dry, that was your answer. there was no worker left watching the scene, everyone had gone off to continue their chores, so there’s only the three of you left in the big shed.

"I must admit I missed seeing your sweet face, y/n" bonnie knew exactly what he was doing, provoking her, his best quality.

"you want me to break your face?!" your body was placed in front of finn’s, who was going to hit gold again, your hands were caressing his shoulders to relax him and you did it.

"you couldn’t do it once, you think you could do it the second time?" you took advantage of the fact that your boyfriend was already changed and ready to leave, to speed up the withdrawal process.

"let it go, finn, let’s go home" you gently took his hand and entered your fingers, making it obvious to bonnie.

"I really thought you were more man, finnegan" a laugh, very fake, came out of his mouth; while you and finn started walking towards the exit. you could tell how stressed your boyfriend was and you knew that if it wasn’t for you being there, he would have already started throwing punches "oh y/n, tell your little boyfriend to practice his mediocre boxing technique!" as you walked around you turned your body to yell back.

"don’t worry, bonnie, I’ll tell him while he’s fucking me against the kitchen table tonight!" a proud smile appeared in finn’s mouth as he hastened his way out.

the apartment you shared was not far away, so in less than five minutes you had arrived. the road had been quiet and you knew finn was eager to get there, and so were you. the area where your two lived wasn’t very nice, so when you walked in through the front door, you let out the air you didn’t know you were holding. you had lived there for months, but the constant fear was now stronger than at first. luckily, finn protected you with everything he had.

just when finn stepped into the apartment kitchen, he took off his typical peaky blinder coat and hat to look at you. you knew that look, he was horny, but when he saw your look, his fell a little.

"why did you do that?" your voice was soft but serious. "why did I, what?" finn took a seat at the table, looking at you feigning confusion.

"why did you fight with bonnie gold knowing he’s a fucking boxer?" he kept quiet, but you knew he had something to say "tommy forced you? arthur?" to mention both, he denied with his head.

"nobody forced me! I did it on my own!" finn was frustrated and it was not something unusual, you had seen it like that the last few weeks.

"but why, finn? you’re not like that, you don’t go through life beating people!"

"I know! I just... I just want to be good enough, alright?! because... my brothers won’t let me do anything, because I am not useful in that fucking company, because they keep treating me like a fucking kid! and because...and because if I go on like this you will go away" slowly you approached him, and with your hands on his cheeks, you raised his face to smile at him.

"you really think I’ll leave you?" he nodded "you’re very naive, finnegan shelby, if you believe that. haven’t you realized these past few months how much I love you? you shouldn’t prove anything to anyone, finn... if you really want to help your brothers with their jobs, and they don’t accept you, it’s their loss" your eyes exploded with admiration and love for your boyfriend and he could see it, because his eyes were the same.

"you want me to work with them?" he whispered.

"I just want you to be safe, and I know that’s not the best way to be sure… but it’s a decision you must make, and whatever it is I’ll stay beside you”

"I love you, y/n"

"I love you, finn" you laid your lips sweetly on his.

"now..." said your boyfriend separating the kiss "it was very hot what you told gold" you released a little embarrassed laugh "do you think we can make it happen?" his hands moved to the tip of your skirt, lifting it little by little.

“I think we can" and this time it was finn who started the kiss.

#fanfiction #fanfic #finn shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder headcanon #finn shelby fanfic #finn shelby fanfiction #imagine #one shots

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shutupandshipit · 3 years

Text

Sharpen Your Blades - Ch.11

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 11/20

Previously <- Chapter 10: Alpha Wanted

Chapter 12: Parents and questions they shouldn’t ask -> Next

Author’s Notes: So, there's songs in this chapter! Yay! They are Never Enough by Loren Allred and Tightrope by Michelle Williams (don't @ me about them being from the Greatest Showman, I know it's trending, these songs just fit them so well). You'll notice that there are also two links, and those are to figure skating videos that are the closest to how I imagine the programs to be. If you mute the video and play the song over it, they match up pretty well. I had a really easy time finding one I liked for Izuku, but a much harder time finding an example for Katsuki. I really like Yuna Kim as a model for Izuku and Yuzuru Hanyu as a model for Katsuki, but Yuzuru's style just didn't fit what I was trying to portray in this chapter. That's okay though! Of course, I don't own the videos. They belong to their original posters and creators. Let me know if the links don't work, and I'll find a different way to share them. I hope you guys like the chapter. I had a really fun time writing it, and I can't wait to post for next week!

Chapter 11: Solo

Izuku stepped onto the ice for the first time since his injury. Terror washed through him. His heart raced in his chest. His hands shook violently. His breath quickened. He clutched at the wall to keep himself steady. A fear weighed heavy on him, fear that as soon as he let go his hip or ankle or knee would simply give out. That the break that had healed months ago would suddenly shatter apart again.

Just because he knew it was an irrational fear didn't mean he knew how to fight against it.

“Just take it slow, young Midoriya, there's no need to rush. You've been doing strength training for a few months now, but being back on the ice is a different kind of taxing,” Toshinori said close by, hands stacked on his hips while he watched Izuku all but cowering against the wall.

“I'm not getting tired. Nothing hurts yet, I'm just...” He trailed off, unwilling to admit his fear.

“Scared? I understand. That's a normal reaction after an injury as severe as yours was. I was scared too the first time I got back on the ice after my injury, but it will get easier. Like I said, take it slow. Soon enough, you'll be sprinting and jumping just like you used to, but we've got to start small first.”

“Right,” Izuku whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. They remained there for long moments, and it was only when the scent of sweet spices assaulted his nose that he was able to open his eyes again.

He found Katsuki's familiar red eyes watching him. Katsuki who's hair was pushed away from his forehead with sweat and seemed to be in the middle of a training exercise with Mr. Aizawa. Katsuki who's scent of excitement was beginning to make the rink smell startlingly like snickerdoodles.

Izuku had forgotten what Katsuki's scent smelled like when he was excited, and it made his mouth water.

Embarrassed, he ripped his eyes away. Once upon a time, he had been the reason for that smell. He was desperately jealous of whoever or whatever had provoked such a reaction in his old friend. Whatever it was though, it had nothing to do with a useless deku like him. Maybe one day very far away, he could be the reason again, but he had a long way and a lot of work before then.

Swallowing, he struggled to stand up straight and push carefully along the wall. With each step and each second of feeling Katsuki's eye on him, he felt his confidence slowly inflate.

.....

November Week 2

Izuku stared down at his phone, mouth turned down in a frown as he waited impatiently for Katsuki to respond, but the little icon telling him that his partner had even seen the message remained blank. It was strange to say the least. Katsuki was the most punctual creature he knew and had ever known. The only time he'd ever skipped class or been late for something were times when his rut had hit suddenly or he'd been uncharacteristically sick. To put it simply, Izuku could count on one hand how many times Katsuki had missed something.

He was only holding up three fingers.

"Let's just go, Deku, I don't think he's going to come tonight," Uraraka suggested, still sitting in the same place on the bleachers that she'd been sitting since she and Kaminari had followed him from his apartment. Team practice had been early that morning instead of later, and the pair of omegas had made the unanimous decision to have an omegas' day. So far, they'd had lunch where the pair had pointed out every marginally attractive alpha to cross their paths, gotten mani-pedis, gone window shopping for potential Christmas presents, looked at venues for the team Christmas party, and gone into a sex store specifically catoring to omegas with a wide range of heat aids. Kaminari had been adamant about going in when they passed by, and after more than a little prodding from both of his friends, Izuku had agreed.

Now, a black bag was tucked away in his gym bag with an item that made him both hot around the collar and simultaneously hot between the legs. The item excited him, but he was loathe to admit that to either of them. He'd only ever had a few encounters of the sexual nature, and those hadn't been very good. Other than that, he really didn't think much about his pleasure. He didn't even really masturbate which had seemed to send the omegas into a frenzy. There had been so many noises of astonishment and disbelief from both Kaminari and Uraraka that he'd hid in the lingerie racks for the better part of a half hour until they'd coaxed him out with the promise of ice cream and figure skater themed lingerie sets.

He hadn't thought his lack of sexual appetite was all that strange. He'd been on suppressants for years. Katsuki had been the focus of all his attention since they'd been kids. He'd always just been more focused on figure skating. He wasn't the only one in the world who felt the same. The asexual spectrum existed for a reason, and he was a staunch believer that he was of that spectrum.

Uraraka and Kaminari had followed him back to the rink, fully intending to drag him away after for a sleepover and movie night.

"Yeah, man, let's just go. What's the point of waiting around any longer? We're just wasting time at this point," Kaminari piped up, head hanging back between his shoulders as he leaned against the wall. "This is just typical Bakugou. He doesn't really consider other people's feelings, you know?"

The comment set Izuku's teeth on edge, and with effort, he unclenched his jaw.

Izuku wasn't particularly annoyed. He loved his friends and loved the sense of community that being with the other omegas gave him, but he wished they would just stop talking. He tried very hard to remind himself that no one had known Katsuki as long as he had, and for a good portion of the time they had known him, Katsuki had hiding behind a mask.

Releasing a quiet sigh, Izuku smiled and said, "He'll be here. He just must have gotten tied up with something with his class. He'll be here."

Uraraka smiled, but he could tell that she wanted to sigh. Maybe she even wanted to roll her eyes. "Will you skate for us while we wait then? If he doesn't get here in time, at least you'll have had a chance to practice. You don't have to skate your program, but maybe something else?"

For a moment, Izuku just considered her idea. He smiled. "Sure. That sounds good." Connecting his phone to the speaker that Toshinori left in the rink for them to use on their off time, Izuku quickly found the song he wanted.

.....

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Katsuki hissed as he tore across the street, flipping off a car as they slammed on their brakes and subsequently on their horn. He couldn't stop though. He was fucking late. Really, really fucking late! He hated being late, always had and always would. Being late for his nightly practice with Izuku just pissed him off all the more. The worst part of it all was that his phone had died sometime during the day so he didn't even have a way of letting his partner know that he'd be late.

The situation had been unavoidable though, and Katsuki swallowed passed the thick lump in his throat.

Two of his students had gotten hurt, and memory of the blood splattered ice made bile rise in the back of his throat. He had turned his back for a single second to correct the form of the new five-year-old he'd taken on. Just a moment had been all they needed. Two of his students had tried the same lift Katsuki had tried with Mina off ice, and just like her, their foot had slipped. The blade had sliced deep into their would be partner's thigh and started gushing blood before either of them had really realized what had happened. There had been an ambulance and paperwork and worried parents and Katsuki trying to keep his head on straight in the mayhem. Now, the adrenaline was wearing off, and he could feel himself crashing. Crashing hard.

There was only blood and ice and screaming and green curls and pain twisting Izuku's face and pain twisting Katsuki's chest. He was having a hard time separating the two memories, and while he knew that was dangerous, he didn't know how to stop it.

So, he ran. Ran to catch Izuku before he left the rink, and ran to stave off the no doubt mount panic attack.

Out of the corner of his eye as he passed a store front, he caught the flash of forest green fabric. Screeching to a stop, he backtracked to the window. Someone had dressed mannequins in winter wear. It was clear that each had a theme and that each set of clothing had been handmade. One wore all pink. One wore woodland colors with a bright orange fox-eared beanie. Another was dressed from head to toe in sparkly purple fabric. The one that had caught his attention was the most subdued with the beanie as the only spot of color.

The beanie was forest green like the gloves he'd bought for Izuku. Floppy white lined bunny ears lay across the mannequin’s forehead with little tassels that hung on either side of the mannequin's cheeks. Minutes ticked by as Katsuki kept staring, imagining green locks poking out from beneath the edge as he tugged on the tassels to pull a smile from its wearer. Green eyes going wide as he handed it over, actually presenting his omega with a gift face to face. A whispered, "Thank you," as round freckled cheeks reddened-

"Evening, young man."

If Katsuki could have literally jumped out of his skin, he would have. Jerking his head towards the voice, he stared at the old man that stood in the doorway of the shop. He hadn't noticed, but unlike a lot of shops in the city, this one seemed to be part of a small home. The wood around the window was weathered and old with peeling robin's egg blue paint. Swallowing, Katsuki tried to find his words. If he'd just been staring into this man's home, it was no wonder he'd come out to find out what Katsuki's doing. "Evening, old man," he finally replied gruffly.

A smile cracked across the old man's ancient face, and he leaned out to see into the front window. "My wife's work. She knits all year long with the best yarn she can find so that alphas like yourself can gift something special to their omegas. Or betas, of course. Times are changing. It's more common to see alphas or omegas marrying betas or even their same dynamic. I think that's lovely." His smile only grew as Katsuki blinked at him nonplussed. "Sorry, I tend to ramble. My wife says it's a problem, but I don't think so. Did you have a special someone in mind? Would you like to take a closer look?"

"I'm... late... to meet... with the omega I'm courting," he said haltingly, unable to resist the other alpha's probing. That happened sometimes with the older alphas. It felt like a sense of community to him, one he resisted, but appreciated when he actually took their unsolicited advice.

"You're only getting more late, but this young omega might like a gift in return. It's not an apology, but it could be the start of one."

"I-"

"If you didn't want to take a closer look, you would have already walked away. You don't have to buy anything, but you could keep it in mind."

Sound logic, and with a sigh, Katsuki nodded. Only a few minutes later he had bought the beanie, and a few minutes after being gushed over by the old man's old omega wife, he was sprinting even faster than before. He felt lighter with the beanie clutched in his hand though, and the only thing in his chest was the anticipation of handing the gift over to Izuku.

It felt like there had been a lot of helping hands in his courting of Izuku, but it also felt like he'd been squandering the chances. With any luck, this would push the scales back in his favor. He hadn't heard anything else about the date Izuku had gone on, and sadistically, he hoped it hadn't gone well for the alpha.

When Katsuki finally shoved into the rink, he let out an explosive sigh of relief. Music played through the rink, and he seemed to have come in right at the crescendo. Not only that, but he immediately recognized the song.

' All the shine of a thousand spotlights/all the stars we steal from the night sky/will never be enough- '

Slowly, Katsuki stepped out enough for him to fully see the rink.

There was Izuku, occupying the whole rink with his presence if not his body. Whenever Izuku skated -really skated, not what he did in practice- it was impossible to look away from him. And in that moment, it was even more so.

Out on the ice, Izuku moved more elegantly than ever. There was no wobble in his stance, no hesitation in his jumps. There was a languidness to his movements that made something deep in Katsuki's chest ache to join him. And then he saw the look on Izuku's face.

He clutched the beanie even more tightly. "Why does he look so sad?" he whispered to himself.

He nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time that night when he heard Uraraka speak up from beside him. He hadn't seen her or Kaminari on the bench, too absorbed in his partner.

"I think you know, Bakugou. It might not be obvious to him, but you and I aren't dense."

On the ice, Izuku lifted his open palms toward the ceiling, staring up at them longingly. ' Towers of gold are still too little/these hands could hold the world but it'll/never be enough/never be enough- '

He watched Izuku until the end of the song before going to take the seat between Kaminari and Izuku's bag. As discreetly as possible, trying to make it look like he was getting into his own bag, he carefully slid the beanie into Izuku's bag.

Then he went to grab for his skates. An image flashed passed his eyes. Crimson blood on stark white ice. Fear and pain in forest green eyes. Tears on freckled cheeks. A young girl’s hand clutched in his as he used his pheromones to calm her.

"Kacchan, you made it!"

Sucking in a sharp breath and doing his best to calm the sharp rise and fall of his chest, he glanced at Izuku leaning over the wall. The omega's cheeks were flushed, pushed up high on his face from the force of his smile.

"I was worried you weren't going to."

There was a subtle undertone to his words, something that went along with the song that was now repeating through the speakers. Katsuki swallowed, and squeezed his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. He couldn't practice with Izuku tonight, couldn't touch him, not in his state. He'd fuck up. Make a mistake. Get them both hurt. He shouldn’t have come.

He pulled his hands away from his bag. "Had an emergency during lessons. One of my students got hurt. Phone died." His sentences were clipped, short, just fragments that lacked any of his usual harsh tone.

"Did you see my program? It's what I had been planning for this year before Mr. Aizawa's announcement."

"Most of it. Missed the first part."

Izuku's smile never faded, but it softened marginally. He pushed away towards the rink entrance, and slid on his guards before moving over to Katsuki to crouch in front of him.

"Do you want to talk about your student? Were they seriously injured?"

Katsuki felt his mouth begin to twitch into a sneer. He forced it down, ignoring the feeling of two extra pairs of eyes on them. This moment felt private, and he wished they were alone so he could just open his mouth and spill his guts. Instead, he just said, "No."

Still, izuku smiled. He didn't stand as he asked, "Will you skate for my blog? My readers are always asking for more videos of you. I'll stay on this side and just record. Can't trust these two to get the proper shots."

Katsuki hadn't known Izuku had talked about him on his blog, and the knowledge made his alpha purr contentedly. The meaning behind Izuku's words took a moment longer to hit. He was offering him an easy way out. Time on the ice alone and an excuse to not be on the ice together for the night. He didn't know if Izuku was doing it on purpose or simply just wanted to let him skate, but the thought sent a ripple of affection through him.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he finally said, yanking his skates from his bag.

…..

Izuku could tell that something was wrong, and he could tell it had something to do with the student that had gotten hurt. He didn't know exactly what was wrong, what was going on inside that blonde head. If he could have opened up Katsuku's brain and climbed in, he would have done it when they were twelve. No, younger. When they'd first met.

But he couldn't. They're relationship was only just getting better, and he didn't think he was allowed to or should push for a more complete answer.

The ice was the only thing he could offer. Still, he was surprised that Katsuki had so easily taken it, but he was thankful that he had.

Standing on the side of the rink while Katsuki queued up the music and pushed out to middle ice, Izuku felt himself grow giddy with anticipation. While he was desperate to feel Katsuki holding him close like he always did while they skated, he'd been waiting for a long time to get a video of Katsuki that wasn't a competition video.

He was almost vibrating as the first cords of the music played through the rink. When the singing began, he sucked in a breath.

' Some people long for a life that is simple and planned/tied with a ribbon/some people won't sail the sea cause they're safer on land/to follow what's written/but I'd follow you to the great unknown- '

' Please, let me not be imagining this ,' Izuku silently prayed every time Katsuki's eyes met his across the ice.

Katsuki's programs were usually sharp and energized and to the point. He was beautiful and skillful when he skated, but he'd never been one for delicacy. Katsuki was almost savage when he skated, and Izuku loved that about him.

Now though, Katsuki was skating like he was dancing ballet, all strong purposeful movements. All flourishing hand placements and arm sweeps.

And the look on his face was one of painful longing. ' So I risk it all just to be with you/And I risk it all for this life we choose- '

Behind Izuku, his attention was drawn to his friends as they whispered.

"Is it weird that they chose songs from the same movie?" Kaminari asked, voice just above a whisper.

Uraraka snorted. "I think it's weirder that Bakugou has watched The Greatest Showman more than anything else."

Izuku allowed for just a bare second to glance over his shoulder at them. "Shh," he hissed before swiveling back. He fell back into the skating without trouble, but something in the back of his brain wanted to tell his friends to leave. This program felt far too personal for them to be watching. Not only that, but Izuku almost wanted to be the only one to ever have seen it. He wanted to have this part of Katsuki all to himself even if he knew he'd never be allowed such a thing.

When Katsuki glided over, cheeks glowing and eyes looking more grounded than they had before, he asked, "Is that what you were hoping for?"

Staring Katsuki straight in the eye, he whispered, "More. Far more."

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #omega!izuku #alpha!katsuki #figure skater au #no quirks au #my writing #sharpen your blades

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