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irrelevantwriter · 3 years

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Embracing Misery

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, funny Rio (he got jokes), secret feelings (bc I love to torture my characters)

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Part 3. Rio returns and you decide to take some initiative.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on these Rio fics! It truly means so much and I am so glad you’re enjoying them. I now bring you part three of a saga that was not at all planned, but has somehow happened anyway. I blame the Rio haze I’m still very much in and my zero chill tendencies. If you guys haven't read parts one and two, then I recommend doing so, for plot purposes. I have some more things planned for this duo so we’ll see what my muse brings. Until then, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

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It was early.

The house was blessedly quiet while your children stayed at their father’s house for the weekend. You soaked up the stillness of the early morning sun rays and crisp, cool air. They washed over you, as if cleansing what the previous night’s sleep hadn’t. You missed your kids like crazy while they were away, but the mornings alone were priceless. It was a time for you to prepare for the day. A luxury you hadn’t been afforded since before the kids were born. But now...now you got to take it all in. Enjoy the serenity.

Or so you thought.

You tied the sash of your robe as you opened the front door, preparing to grab the morning paper, but as soon as you turned the knob you knew what would be waiting on the other side. Something told you he was there. You didn’t need to look out onto the street to see the familiar sleekness of a dark tinted luxury car. You could feel him. Feel his eyes on you as you bent down to get the paper and turned, leaving the front door wide open.

Rio had been gone for nearly two months. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the man in that long. Not even a text message, though the thought had crossed your mind on more than one occasion. You had no idea where he’d been or what he’d been doing while he was away, but you’d had no choice but to conduct business as usual. Mick had been your contact, times and places for drop-offs exactly as Rio had set them up. It was as if he was still running things from wherever he was. As if he could somehow see you without actually seeing you.

During his time away you’d done nothing but think of when he’d return. You teetered on the edge of worry and longing as your thoughts raced between concern for your boss slash lover to outright arousal. You’d spent more than one night thinking about his hands on your body while yours tried desperately to replicate his touch. It would get the job done, but it was nothing compared to that gentle slide of hand or gravelly voice that sent literal shivers up your spine. Your body had missed him. And you had come to the realization that you did too.

You walked into your kitchen, hearing the click of the front door as he passed through the threshold. You went straight for the humming coffee pot, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Coffee?” You asked over your shoulder, not at all surprised to hear the shakiness in your voice.

“Sure.”

Your entire body thrummed to life at that solitary sound. You hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet and already your thighs were clenching together. Your nipples hardened against the thin fabric of your tank top, your black robe barely concealing the reaction. You poured the coffee with unsteady hands, preparing yourself to face him once again.

When you turned around, you were greeted with a familiar smirk and a magnificent throat tattoo. A tattoo that you’d missed. He looked exactly the same. Same dark button-up. Same dark jeans. Same intense eyes. Same addictive swagger. It all came together to seduce you into a trance. A trance you’d fallen victim to in the past. It was a fog of uncertainty and lust. It was powerful. Merciless. And you couldn’t stop it from taking you hostage if you tried. So...you embraced it.

You slid the mug of coffee across the kitchen island towards him, a gesture that had you experiencing déjà vu. He accepted it and the sugar you offered. You watched as he dressed his beverage. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No milk or cream. He stirred it and then sipped, nodding in approval at the taste. The entire display was odd...domestic even.

His eyes trailed over your body before coming to rest on your face.

“Did you miss me, mama?” He asked cheekily, white teeth on display. They bit sensually into his bottom lip, the action making warmth seep deep into your bones.

You laughed. You’d missed the banter. Missed his blatant want for you. It was a cruel punishment to take away someone’s drug of choice. Rio just so happened to be yours. And you’d been experiencing withdrawals for the last two months. You desperately needed a hit. Needed something to take the edge off.

“Hardly.” You quipped, smiling so that he could see the lie clearly written on your face.

He only stared back. The action was still unnerving.

You turned to pour your own cup of coffee, feeling his gaze ghost across your back. You busied yourself with adding cream and sugar, the clang of the spoon against ceramic the only sound reverberating throughout the house. You took a few cursory sips, testing the temperature of the liquid. It was hot. Too hot. But you drank it anyway.

Turning around to face Rio once again, you were surprised to find the spot across the island empty. Your eyes darted around the immediate area, catching a glimpse of him lounging on your sofa. The same sofa he’d fucked you against. Along with the kitchen island.

You left your drink behind, bare feet walking with a purpose across the cold wood floors. You rounded the sofa and took him in. One leg was crossed over the other, his mug resting against his knee as he steadied it with one hand. His free arm extended along the back of the couch, taking up a fair amount of space on the piece of furniture.

He was a picture of comfort and ease. Looking as if he belonged there. You supposed in that moment, he did.

You observed him for a long time. Long enough for his face to grow serious as he stared up at you. A myriad of emotions swirled within you. All of them seemed to be conflicting. They pushed and pulled in various directions, telling you what you should do while others persuaded you to do what you wanted to do. In the end none of it mattered. You’d already sold your soul to the devil long before you got into bed with him. It was time to accept that.

You wordlessly reached for his drink, moving the mug onto the coffee table. He let you, uncrossing his legs and watching you with a sharp eye. You grasped for the knot that held your robe together and pulled the two ends apart, feeling the material start to give way. It fell open to reveal the tank top and shorts you wore underneath. It was a far cry from lingerie, but it sent the same message. You wore no bra, an obvious fact as his eyes hungrily took you in. Your shorts were cut high, practically underwear and exposing more leg than you would’ve normally felt comfortable with. The robe fell from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You swallowed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to take flight. You focused on him. You focused on the way he looked at you. And how he made you feel. You let that be your guide as you pulled your top up and over your head. The garment joined the robe on the floor as you moved on to your shorts, pulling them down and letting them slide along your thighs. You were left in your demure cotton panties. You were only slightly embarrassed by their modesty, but Rio showed no inclination that he was put off. In fact, his mouth twitched, his lower half shifting against the couch.

You looped your fingers into the waistband of the cotton and pushed them down, baring yourself completely. He’d never seen you naked. Your previous trysts had been rushed with clothes shifted aside and out of the way in frenzied yearning. It’d never been thought out before. And now, here you were standing naked in your own living room, seducing the man you were sure wanted to kill you about as much as he wanted to fuck you.

It was exhilarating.

“What’re you doing?” Rio rasped, gaze locked with yours. His voice was low and tinged with desire. He looked equal parts amused and perplexed, and the thought of him trying to be a gentleman in your current state of undress only made your need for him strengthen.

“Sshh...” You soothed, stepping between his spread legs and straddling his lap.

His hands immediately gripped around your waist, the touch of his bare flesh against yours sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You kissed him, hands sliding up his chest and resting on the buttons of his shirt. He reciprocated your eagerness, lips moving with yours. Your tongue reached out to taste him and he accepted, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass in approval. Your lower body writhed in his lap, feeling the firm muscle resting beyond his zipper.

You longed to feel his skin against yours. To feel the proof of life beat against your own chest. To feel close to him in a way you hadn’t thus far. Your fingers moved swiftly to grant you the sensation you craved. You unfastened each button, pulling his shirt apart and gliding your palms over the smooth muscle of his chest. His hips thrust up into yours restlessly as you explored his upper body. Your lips had yet to detach from each other, completely lost in reuniting. Your nails lightly grazed down his chest and abdomen, feeling him reciprocate the action by nibbling your lip.

His touch scorched your skin, roaming freely. He cupped your heaving breasts, mouth moving to your neck as he attacked your skin with kisses. You threw your head back in blessed relief and pleasure, finally feeling as if you could breathe again. You maneuvered your hands between your bodies, aiming for his belt buckle. You were impatient. Unable to wait for him to fill you. You’d waited long enough. The abundance of slickness that slid from your walls could attest to that.

“Mmmm...” He growled against your neck when you finally pulled him free, your palm easily smoothing over the hard length. His hips rutted into your touch, his own impatience showing.

You moaned when his lips attached to a nipple and sucked. He tortured you with sensations, bouncing between gentle and unyielding. His mouth was hot and wet against your flesh, encouraging your arousal to new heights. You craved more.

Again you took the initiative and lifted your hips, angling his length to fit against your weeping slit. He pulled away from your chest and took you in, watching as you slowly impaled yourself on his cock. Your lips parted as you engulfed him, your breathing accelerating with every inch he filled you. It’d been too long and your body was taut, clenching around him in such a way that let him know just how much you’d missed his touch.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you finally bottomed out, your thighs flush with his. His fingers gripped your hips, his body completely still and waiting for you to move. His brow was furrowed, his lips pouted as he took in measured breaths. He almost looked in pain as you sat unmoving atop him. The notion pleased you.

You moaned when he shifted, his cock nudging your womb. You couldn’t prolong the torture anymore and began to swirl your hips, your palms flat against his chest. It was a new dynamic for you both. Being able to control the moment with him was not something you were used to. His demanding nature was something you secretly loved, but having him at your mercy like this was so much better. You could see every pass of ecstasy on his face. Feel it in the way he twitched inside you. It was addicting.

His calloused hands massaged your breasts as you rode him, his dark eyes glazed over with lust but still holding you captive. He slid along your walls, stretching and filling you to capacity. You only got wetter at the feel of him, the slickness so overwhelming that he almost fell from your tight clutches. You used his shoulders for leverage as you moved, your pace increasing, desperate to come undone with him.

“Damn...yeah, just like that.” Rio exhaled, hands encouraging your hips to keep their speed.

He licked his lips as you bounced, flesh slapping as you fucked yourself. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then attached it to your clit, rubbing the swollen flesh in sensual circles. You arched your back and whimpered, feeling the tendrils of climax begin to latch on.

“I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, feeling your skin slicken with perspiration. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on your clit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans at bay.

“Do it, mama.” He throatily demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“C-cum...with me.” You pleaded between breaths. He nipped at the underside of your chin and you swore you could feel his smirk against your flesh.

He didn’t waste another second.

You held on as Rio’s hips met yours, his cock hitting your cervix with a brutality that had you seeing stars. Your muscles spasmed from the inside out, your limbs locking as you came. Your walls clamped around him in stuttering patterns, giving him no other option but to feel it all. You held him to you as you shook, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs and his length. He continued to fuck you through it, his control now waning. He buried his face into your chest and neck, holding you just as tightly as he repeatedly thrust up into you.

“Inside me...please.” You found yourself begging, exhausted from your own euphoria but still wanting to feel him release deep within you. It was a sensation you thrived on. It meant he was real. That he wasn’t a figure in the night or a lone man with a gun. He’d been inside you. Painted your walls in him. Claimed you. And you wanted to feel that for as long as you could.

“You want it?” He grunted against your neck, hands digging so hard into your ass that the area would surely be sore afterwards. It was welcomed after his prolonged absence. Just another clue that he’d been there.

“Please…” You whimpered, uncaring that you sounded so desperate.

He said nothing in return. Only thrust harder as he finally came. He held you still against him, ensuring not a drop of his cum left your joined bodies. You reveled in the warmth that suddenly filled you, spreading your thighs wider across his lap. His teeth dragged along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver from you.

It was quiet for a moment, your labored breathing slowly steadying with the beating of your heart. You were pressed against his bare chest, his hands now smoothing across your flesh rather than gripping it. The sensation nearly put you to sleep.

“So you missed me then?” Rio teased, his voice raspier than normal.

You sat up straight, looking down into his eyes that were glinting back at you with boyish arrogance. You cracked a smile and shook your head.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You didn’t have to, darling.” He whispered, face growing serious as he tenderly shifted the few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

Laughter bubbled in your throat suddenly, effectively cutting through the moment. His fingers drifted to your lips, tracing them as you broke into a smile.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His own lips quirked up at the sound of your tired giggles, your body shaking above him.

“We haven’t made it to a bed yet.” You said between laughs, pulling his hand from your mouth and resting it on your cheek instead. You held onto his forearm, the sinewy muscle feeling sturdy under your touch.

“There’s still time.” He retorted with a sly smile, his eyes taking in your face in a careful study. The intensity of it was almost enough to make you feel bashful.

You were lost in the moment, ready to let him take you again when a knock at the front door sounded. You scrambled up, hearing a key in the knob.

“Fucking Paul.” You cursed as you grabbed your discarded robe and hastily tied the sash. “Get dressed.” You ordered Rio, that smug smirk still planted firmly on his lips.

You moved past him and through the dining room to the front door, seeing your ex shuffle through the door with a baseball bag thrown over his shoulder. Your son’s bag. He must’ve forgotten something for his game today.

“You mind?” You snapped at him, throwing a quick glance behind you to ensure he couldn’t see Rio through the entryway.

“Well, I called but you didn’t answer. Figured you were still asleep.” Paul supplied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t wait until I actually answered the door instead of using a key? A key I was sure I got back from you.”

He rolled his eyes, not making any move to return the item.

Bastard.

“What’re you doing here, Paul?”

“Anthony forgot his mitt. Needs it for the game today.”

You inwardly rolled your eyes, both at your ex and your son. They were mirror images of each other and that extended to their forgetfulness.

You walked to the entryway bench and lifted the pillow, knowing it would be stuck there because that’s where Anthony always left his gear after a game.

“Here.” You said shortly, thrusting the glove over to him. The sooner he got it, the sooner he’d be gone.

The universe was a cruel bitch though.

A shuffling from behind you pulled both yours and Paul’s attention. You tensed as Rio rounded the corner, clothes neatly tucked back into place. He eyed your ex for a long moment, making both you and Paul uncomfortable.

“I-uh...this-,” You stumbled over your words, at a loss for how to proceed. “He was just checking on some things around the house.” You lamely offered.

“What things?” Paul threw back with a raised brow, obviously not buying your answer.

“Just taking a look at her pipes.” Rio quipped, making you cough.

The air was awkward and tense as the two men sized each other up. You could see the suspicion in Paul’s eyes as he took in Rio’s very notable tattoo. Paul’s gaze flicked to yours, attempting to read your face. You opened your mouth to cut through the silence, but Rio beat you to it.

“I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He said, facing you and biting his lip. The action was purposeful. A signal of sorts.

You nodded and crossed your arms, watching with bated breath as he walked past Paul. He stared at the man as if he was a nuisance, giving him a quick once over before chuckling and exiting out the door. You released a sigh of relief once the door latched, your shoulders easing now that he’d left. A wave of disappointment followed. You were hoping to spend more time with him before he ultimately disappeared again. You were sure you’d see him at your next drop off now that he was back, but that was still days away. And you’d be damned if you reached out to the man for anything other than business-related topics.

You’d just have to wait.

“Friend of yours?” Paul interrupted your thoughts, face twisted in disapproval.

“He was here to check the pipes. They were making a weird noise. Wanted to make sure they didn’t freeze over.” You explained, your attitude back in full force.

“Sure.” He replied flatly, eyes belatedly taking in your state of undress. “You should put some decent clothes on when you have strange men in the house.”

The chastising tone of his voice made you see red. It was one of the reasons you’d divorced him. Along with the infidelity. And his tendency to be an egotistical piece of shit. Your reaction was a completely different reaction to Rio’s reprimands. Rio made you feel alive...desired. Paul’s goal was to always control and make you feel less than. He’d lost that fight throughout your marriage, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to do so long after it’d ended.

“You need to go.” You demanded between clenched teeth, opening the door for him and gesturing him out.

He took the hint and walked outside to the porch, shaking his head as he did.

“The kids wanted all of us to go out to dinner. Including Erica.” He said as he turned to face you, hand held to the door that you were ready to slam in his face.

You fought the urge to scoff at the mention of his fiancé and instead nodded, a pleasant smile on your lips and pure hate in your heart.

“Sure. Text me details. I’ve gotta go before this cum running down my leg stains the carpet.”

Paul’s face was priceless. And you had the pleasure of slamming the door in it. You smiled victoriously to yourself. The unexpected visit wasn’t so bad after all.

Your two worlds were getting harder to keep separated. That was apparent after the debacle that just took place. Rio was a significant presence in your life. And it was in more than just a working relationship way. That was obvious now. But were you really ready to let that happen? To let him in? The answer was still no. It would always be no. But sleeping with your boss had to have some benefits. And you were willing to find out exactly what those were. Misery and all.

#rio #rio good girls #good girls rio #rio imagine #rio x you #rio x reader #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #nbc good girls #good girls nbc

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wheredafandomat · 2 years

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F&D - Search for Infinity ❤️‍🔥P29❤️‍🔥 “What will you do when you’re immortal?”

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Bold italics = flashforward

The feeling of your head pounding was what woke you up. You squinted your eyes, groaning as the sun shone in them. You remembered falling asleep last night as well as copious amounts of drinking and a few other minor details. As you let out a yawn, you felt Lokis arms tighten around you as he spooned you, practically impaling you with his morning glory. You tried to get out of bed only to be pulled back by a sleeping Loki who now had an arm around your torso. Sighing, you settled back down against Loki, once again feeling his erection prodding you in the back. You thought you’d close your eyes again in the hopes of catching a few more minutes of sleep but then you felt Loki beginning to move behind you in a motion that could only be described as humping. Biting your lip, you tried to stifle your laugh as small grunts escaped him, clearly he was having a dream he didn’t want to be woken up from. The hand that was settled against your torso began to wander up, making its way under your top causing you to laugh at the ticklish feeling, waking Loki up. Realising what he was doing, he quickly pulled apart from you, nearly falling out of the bed as he scrambled away, bright red and gasping.

“I am terribly sorry.” He apologised, looking away from you as you once again tried to contain your laughter, facing him. Instead of answering, you placed one of your hands against his cheek.

“I’ve never seen you this shade before.” You grinned.

“No really I am sorry.” He answered again, replicating your movement by placing a hand on your cheek and looking you in the eyes “sorry sorry sorry—.” He repeated, leaning forwards as he peppered kisses over your face causing you to giggle.

“It’s fine Loki, if I was uncomfortable I would have said, or simply woken you up. It was more funny than anything.” You assured, beginning to play with his hair. “If it’s early morning here, it’s probably afternoon in London, we need to collect our Sev soon.” You spoke.

“Mmm, I’ve missed her.” Loki hummed in agreement.

“Me too.” You said before moving your hand from his hair and running it down his body. “Morning” you spoke, looking down at Lokis boxers.

“Don’t talk to ittt.” He whined, embarrassed “leave it alone and it’ll go away.”

“It’s my new friend.” You chuckled, running your hand over his erection causing Loki to take a sharp breath. “Relax, just talk to me, what’s todays plan?” You questioned, slipping your hand underneath his waistband and wrapping your hand around his length before you started stroking it.

“Well I need to-need to go to London first of all.”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“And then speak to T—Thor.” He continued as you sped up your movements. “And ge—get a f-few things for the— oh godss yes.” He moaned, bucking his hips.

“A few things, like?” You prompted.

“Ca-candles, wedding thi—things.”

“For our wedding.” You beamed as you palmed Loki to completion, feeling him exploding in your hand. Slowing your movements, you kept on running your hand up and down his softening cock.

“I don’t think I tell you how much I love you enough.” Loki spoke breathlessly.

“Oh don’t worry, you tell me plenty.” You smiled.

“I love you.” He smiled, tapping your nose with his finger causing your face to scrunch up as you moved your head backwards with a glare. Laughing, Loki pulled you back towards him, stroking your back as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“Loki.” You began.

“Mmm.”

“I just want to say again, if anything happens—”

“Stop.” He cut in.

“If anything happens, promise you and Sev will go back to Asgard.”

“It won’t come to that beautiful, but if it makes you feel better then yes, I promise.” He spoke, kissing you on the forehead. “On a lighter note, what will you do once you’re immortal?” He questioned.

“I don’t know, probably hit the gym twenty three hours a day and become the strongest most indestructible Avenger.” You jested “what about you, what will you do once I’m like you?”

“Well we’ll be able to do some adventurous things and you’ll be able to go on missions without me worrying so much about you.” He answered.

“Anything else?”

“And I’ll finally be able to fuck you senseless.” He smirked.

“You already do.” You quipped.

“I’ve been holding back.” He answered.

“No.” You gasped.

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Oh yes.” He grinned.

“Wow, I’m so excitedddd.” You squirmed.

After a while longer of you and Loki snuggling together, you got up and made your way to your room to get ready for Sevens arrival. You told Loki how you needed to do a bit more washing and change her bedding so he told you he’d go and collect her himself to save you having to go too. Knowing you wouldn’t see Soph, Noah or Izzy, you FaceTimed them once you got a moment to yourself. As you spoke with Soph, you saw Loki appear behind her. When she saw him in the screen, she gasped, not expecting him. You heard him apologising profusely to her.

“Sorry Soph, I keep telling him to wait at the door.” You apologised too as she assured Loki it was fine.

When Seven and Loki arrived, Loki holding Sevens bags and Seven holding something you hadn’t seen before, you made your way towards them both, scooping Seven up.

“Mumyyy.” She cheered, hugging you back.

“Hey baby, you need to tell me aaaalll about your fun time at Uncle Noah’s but first who’s this?” You asked, gesturing to the baby doll she had in her hand.

“Baby.” She answered.

“It’s called baby?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“So now I’ve got two babies.” You laughed.

“Y/n, I’m just going to have a word with Thor, I’ll join you two—three, in a minute.” Loki interrupted, kissing you on the cheek and then Sev.

“Waitttt.” Sev practically yelled, jumping from your arms “to For!” She shouted, charging up the hallway towards Thors bedroom.

“I guess she wants to talk to him too.” You laughed, watching Seven go. Teleporting in front of her, Loki picked her up before carrying her with him.

“So, Asgard.” Bucky spoke, shifting uncomfortably on his feet not knowing how to speak to Loki. He was temperamental but it was to be expected.

“I’ve never really liked Asgard, but she made me promise.” Loki laughed mirthlessly.

“I guess it will be nice for Seven to see?” Bucky added.

“Please don’t try and console me.” Loki spat “and say your goodbyes to my daughter, all of you say your goodbyes, you won’t see her again.”

A/N: I feel like this is a good time to mention that I played card number seven in Alice and wonderland when I was in year 6 💀 hope you liked the chap. I’ve also just realised that seven is called seven!! Omg

Tags:

@laufeyson965

@eyesbluelikethetitanic

@immersed-in-mischief

@mischief2sarawr

@geeky-politics-46

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #tom hiddelston loki #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x avenger reader #loki x avenger reader smut #loki x avengers #loki x you #loki x y/n

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fellowstrangetownappreciator · 3 years

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Curious and autistic-coded

Hello there! April draws to an end and with that I think it’s high time to hurry up and write this. What does April have to do with anything, you ask? April is the Autism Acceptance Month. So what better month to do this?

Unfortunately I didn’t make it. I failed. It’s already 1. 5. when I’m posting this. But at least I tried to deliver on time.

In this mini essay I’ll present my case about why I think the Curious brothers from TS2 Strangetown display autistic-coded traits and my personal takes on it.

It’s basically your average headcanon post but with a funny top hat!

0: Preface: What do I mean by “autistic-coded”?

When a character is coded as something, it means that they have traits that are associated with the demographics in question to make the consumer knowingly or not link the character with the demographic, although the character's "label” is never explicitly disclosed.

In the nutshell, it means that there are canonical reasons to read the characters as autistic, although you won't find the word "autism" anywhere in the game nor in the developer's commentary.

In this particular case I do believe that the developer may not even be aware of the code, as there is no evidence to suggest otherwise. If there is, I’m not aware of it and I would be happy to learn.

So, let’s start!

1: “The white male who is very good at science”

Unfortunately autistic representation in pop-culture has a long history of being rather straightforward in which traits the characters often have. This stems from the belief that autism is “a boy’s disorder” (that’s why some autism charities to this day use blue in their symbols). Among popular examples of autistic-coded characters are Big Bang Theory’s Sheldon Cooper and Death Note’s L and Near. I’m sure you can think of more but you’ll find that most of them are men and either explicitly white or racially ambiguous white-passing. They also tend to be gifted in tech, logic or other science-y activities.

There’s nothing wrong with that! Nothing wrong with being an autistic with those “stereotypical” characteristics and there is nothing wrong with people being represented. What is wrong is the monotony and afab people/people of color being underrepresented which leads (among other factors) to harder access to diagnosis and resources for those people in real life. But! That’s a topic for a different day. (and not for a simbrl, mind you)

Back to the Curiouses! I just wanted to say that autism in media is traditionally associated with characters whose gender presentation, race and interests align with theirs. Those characteristic thus make a very convenient template for autistic-coding.

2: Inconsistent performance, huge gaps between strengths and weaknesses

Pascal, Vidcund and Lazlo are very skilled Sims by default, extraordinarily even for their age. Pascal has a skill maxed while his younger brothers both near maxing theirs.

But as you can see in Pascal’s default skill panel, apart from Creativity, all his other skills are extremely low, 0 points for Mechanical, Body and Charisma, 1 point for Cooking and Logic and his second best skill, Cleaning, has only 3 points. The same situation can be observed in Vidcund’s and Lazlo’s, except their strong suits are Logic and Cooking respectively.

Huge discrepancies within performance in different cognitive areas is a common trait found in those on the autism spectrum. We’re often talking extremes here and the scale of the difference is the defining factor. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, it’s just in neurodivergent people those tend to be unusually noticeable.

I think that skills, simplified as they are, are the closest The Sims has to possibly simulate that because they track the character’s performance and expertise in different areas and allow comparison. In real life, of course, this comparison is not nearly as possible and exact, nor desired, but for all our analysis-loving enthusiasm, here we’re still talking fictional characters.

3: Struggle with social cues

It is widely known that one of autistic traits are difficulties with processing social situations, picking social cues and successfully replicating socially desired behavioral patterns.

But these three are Sims, are they not? They cannot possibly display this trait, since they’re programmed the same way as others.

Yes and no.

It is true that there is no specific in-game feature that would allow Sims to behave with explicit neurodivergency in mind* but with the right combination of traits they can simulate behavior that really hits close to home for neurodivergent players.

*at least not in TS2, TS3 has traits that simulate some possible neurodivergencies but their names tend to be rather... ableist unfortunate and they’re not relevant to this post since they’re not autism related, and even if they were, we’re focusing on TS2 exclusively

Let’s take look at Lazlo here. He is, indeed, a playful soul. He likes to goof around, tell jokes, make others laugh. And since he’s very close to his brother Vidcund, close enough even to Tell Dirty Joke (an interaction that needs quite a high relationship to unlock), he autonomously does just that.

And oh boy, does Vidcund disapprove.

From my personal experience playing them, their relationship usually takes quite a hit from every cheeky joke Lazlo throws Vid’s way. They usually autonomously repair it very quick but it happens often.

But that’s a standard behavior. Vidcund’s very serious, he doesn’t take well to jokes.

No. I mean technically yes, Vid is definitely a grumpy old plant dad but, at least in my game, he tends to accept Lazlo’s jokes. All kinds of them, actually, except for the dirty ones. And Pascal, who technically has even lower Playful points (0 in comparison to Vidcund’s 4), doesn’t seem to mind Lazlo’s poor attempts at grown-up humor.

But! What is it that makes Lazlo try still? What drives him to attempt to make Vidcund laugh with a dirty joke over and over again? (and fail?)

I my interpretation, Lazlo doesn’t do that on purpose, he is just really poor at evaluating “dirtiness” of a given joke and frequently misinterprets Vidcund’s cues. The animation of a dirty joke being rejected even supports that as Vid doesn’t signal his discomfort with any exaggerated easy-to-read facial expression until Lazlo gets to his punchline.

No only that but as I mentioned, the invisible lines between spicy and too vulgar are often hard to thread. I can recall many times I thought I was saying a witty quip on an “adult” topic and was met with awkward silence or someone shushing me because “that’s not how you speak in public”. I can well imagine myself in Lazlo’s shoes.

A situation of social cues being misinterpreted or ignored can be observed also in Vidcund. Programming-wise, those are just his low Niceness and extreme Shyness showing but combined they again paint a picture of a very neurodivergent-looking behavioral pattern.

He often behaves like the concept of politeness or social rules doesn’t exist because the combination of the aforementioned traits makes him come off very blunt (lecturing and shoving telescope-peepers with no warning whatsoever) and distant (having a high chance of rejecting simple small-talk socials).

(That’s Jasmine Rai casting the “Summon Vidcund” spell.)

Yes, I am fully aware that it makes a stronger case for him being an a**hole than autistic but... there’s no reason he can’t be both. Not all autistic people are sweet cinnamon buns, all personalities you can think of can be neurodiverse and, for some their neurodiversity can even amplify their inconsiderate ways, as I believe it is the case with our dear grouch Vidcund.

4. Their bios

“No matter what happens, Pascal believes there is a logical explanation for everything. In his free time, he practices home psychoanalysis and collects conspiracy theories.”

(that’s how I imagine practicing psychoanalysis looks like, sorry Freud)

“Serious and exact, Vidcund strives to fit the universe into a nice tidy package. He has an unnatural fondness for African violets.”

(let’s collectively pretend those are African violets)

“Not as studious as his older brothers, Lazlo got his degree in Phrenology. He likes to call phone psychics and spends hours trying to bend forks with his mind.”

*error: screenshot of Lazlo bending forks not found*

(but here he is hanging out with Erin Beaker, the closest thing to “calling phone psychics” you can actually do in-game)

Both Pascal’s and Vidcund’s bios point to a pattern-focused worldview with a strong emphasis on rationality as the center-point that anchors the way they understand the world around them and build their principles on. This “pattern-ization” of thinking is a common autistic trait, with rationality being a popular theme because emotions tend to be difficult to access and asses for many of us.

Lazlo’s biography is an outlier. But it still has something significant in common with those of his brothers: All three of their bios allude to a potential special interest of sorts.

Special interests as an autism-related term are very specific, in-depth and long-term hobbies or areas of expertise that make an autistic person happy and they tend to go to seemingly exhausting lengths, often at the cost of other areas of knowledge and most likely the person’s ability to talk about anything else for a long enough time. (a loving hyperbole, no disrespect meant) Mine are my characters and cats. An even more intense but a short(er)-term passion is called a hyperfixation.

Them potentially having a special interest is yet another possible autistic-coded feature.

5. Wait. Why does it matter?

Right. What does it matter if a Sim (A SIM) (or two or three) is autistic? What do I hope to achieve, pushing my autistic Curiouses agenda down your throats?

I got to write a long rant-piece about some of my favorite TS characters and I feel like I can finally die satisfied.

Apart from that and me sharing my happiness of finding some good pixels I can relate to, it is a matter of representation.

Remember by the very beginning I wrote how most of the representation our community gets in media tends to be just a one specific type of character?

And how the Curious brothers seem to fit the stereotype to a point?

There is something I omitted, something I saved for the last on purpose.

The role. The role in their story, the role in the society the piece of media portrays.

We often see neurodiverse, autistic or autistic-coded character as children, students, villains, lone savants, victims in distress, comedic relief sidekicks, either very vulnerable and needing protection, or detached and having their role defined only by their academic prowess or their special interest/profession.

What we rarely get to see them as, are... parents.

That’s what many of us autistics are or plan to be someday in the future. The dogma around autism has started to dwindle relatively recently and there are little to no examples of autistic adults being the care-givers for once in the media around us.

The Curious brothers are just that. They are chaotic, they are eccentric, they can be a little too much... but they are dutiful and loving fathers/uncles to their little aliens they raise.

They make it work. Even if they face difficulties, even if they don’t exactly fit the standard.

“Sometimes, a family truly can be three brothers raising alien babies, and it’s beautiful.”

It encourages us to define family by love rather than traditional structures and it shows us that portrait of a functional neurodiverse family we need to see.

And goodness, is it a powerful sight.

#the sims 2 #the sims #ts2 #simbrl #pascal curious #vidcund curious #lazlo curious #autism acceptence month #headcanon #actuallyautistic #autistic curiouses agenda #please someone take tumbrl from me

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Thirteen- Variation Two

(Prevoius variation here)

(Discord Here)

This chapter was originally an RP with @ablackswansweet, and there are two versions- one from both character’s POV. I have Swan’s permission to post this.

The young man can feel the android's gaze on him. It's wary of Martha and him, although he can hardly blame it. But he can't help but find the idea of a machine being "scared" kind of funny.

"What do you want?" It asks, most likely knowing something is coming, judging from the resignation in its voice. Kyle smiles internally.

You can almost see the cracks.

The blond is practically buzzing with excitement. A real android! And he gets to study it up close!

Getting closer, he inspects its face. The eerie look almost makes him shudder.

"I want to learn how you work." He takes Original's chin in his hand, moving it's head left and right to get a better look at it. The winces of "pain" from the android are uncanny.

He writes down some notes and takes his place next to the official again. Next part should be fun.

The android seems less than pleased with him playing with its uncovered face. Still, it bites its tongue instead of Kyle's hand (despite its very obvious desire to do so) until the blond is done, and lets out what sounds like a breath of relief.

How can you replicate relief in coding ? It's AI is fascinating.

"Haven't you done that enough?" It whines, trying to shake off its bonds. "With everything you've done to me, I doubt that any competent mechanic would need any more research."

It tries to shoot him a displeased glare, but without its faceplate it just looks unsettling and pathetic.

Kyle chuckles to himself. For a machine, it's talking a lot. Fascinating.

"Thing is, Original, I'm not exactly a mechanic. I'm just really, really interested by your wires and gears. And how well they respond to… Certains stimuli," he says.

A few more words in his notes and he looks at Martha, asking if it's time. She nods. Awesome.

As fast as he can, the blond connects wires to the android, barely able to contain his joy. It's not everyday you get to experiment on a non-human sentient being.

Stepping in front of the control panel, he waits for the official's instructions, almost shaking from anticipation.

Original isn't looking so good. It seems worried. Well, it's right. It should be. The distress emanating from it is very interesting, too. Can it sense the danger looming over it?

“To begin with, my name is Zane, not Original. Second, if you are so interested in ‘wires and gears’ perhaps a robotics course would be a more healthy outlet for you," it tries to reason with him. Too bad that it's way more interesting than a simple robotics course.

After a pause, it adds, "Why are you doing this? I can assure you that I have never meant to cause harm on any innocents.”

Kyle's hand twitches. He looks over at Martha. She's wearing a displeased expression. He didn't expect anything else, and he's probably making the same face as well.

“You can begin whenever you like.” The official tone sounds slightly interested, now.

He hums in response.

"Hey, Original?" He calls out to the robot. "You talk a lot."

He pushes a button and a small jolt of electricity was released. This fairly small amount of energy is only meant to cause discomfort. Wouldn't want to burn it out too fast.

The android squirms and still attempts to free itself, but no real pain response occurs. Interesting. A new paragraph written.

It still tries to reason with him, going on and on about how it wants it to stop, please. Kyle drowns the sound out with his thoughts. That wasn't very exciting.

Maybe with a stronger charge, something interesting will happen? That's what Martha seems to think too.

The android finally looks like it understands it's not talking him out of it.

How advanced is its code supposed to be, again? That took a while.

“I suppose I am talking a lot,” It concedes, “but not nearly as much as an old friend of mine. Jay couldn’t stay quiet if his life depended on it.”

Is it trying to have a conversation with him? Now? In its situation?

It must have thought of something. Let's humor it.

"Heh, yeah. I had a guy like that in one of my foster homes." A smirk grows on the blond’s face as the robot seems startled. "Didn't end well for him either. No one like a constant source of useless noise, don't you agree?"

Even without a faceplate, its expressions are pretty easy to guess. It's almost laughable how a few words shakes it up.

Making small talk is is a smart plan, he'll give it that. It's probably hoping that it'll make him like it enough to not hurt it. Let's see how long this game can last.

"How is your old friend doing now?" He asks, slowly turning up the voltage. The other engineers told him this should be as painful as period cramps, so that's fun.

The android struggles under the amount of electricity building up. But still, it continues to talk. Kyle's impressed.

“I haven’t seen him in a while- I’ve been a little…” It looks at its restrains and winces, probably reminded of its situation.. “... tied up.”

At big crooked smile appears on the blond's face. It's even making jokes now! Powering through painful situations could be a valuable asset if they were to make something like supersoldiers. Looking good so far.

“I don’t think I caught your name, either. What do you go by?” It asks, most likely trying to get information on him. That's not very important data, though. It can have it.

The blond lets his face turn into a surprised expression for a second. "My name's Kyle. He/him, I guess. But I don't think you're going to need to know that."

He turns the charge a little higher again, hoping to see some more interesting pain responses as they continue to talk. This is getting boring. Martha seems to approve of his method, however. Thanks, mom.

"Tell me about your other old friends. You said you were dating, right? How's it like ?" He asks again, a sinister smile on his face. How about a good old Pavlovian shock therapy?

Original fights any sign of discomfort or pain, and its calm expression is almost unsettling when you know what its sensors are going through right now.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kyle," It tells him, the lie barely noticeable. But Kyle has worked with hypocrites before. Original is talented. “I don’t recall mentioning that I was in an active relationship, but I suppose that the background research you must’ve done would cover that.”

Kyle smiles and says nothing. He increases the tension steadily, appreciating the sight of the android losing its peaceful facade, with flashes of pain occasionally visible on its face.

Impressive. The robot is still fighting. Maybe leaving the sensors at their normal settings was too nice, but oh well. Things are just now getting better.

"Yeah, I read your file before coming here. Big fan, by the way." He smiles, but the hostility starts to seep in his voice. "Wonder how they feel about your self-sacrificing nature," he almost spit out.

No. Breathe. Calm down.

Some composure regained, he suddenly sends it a jolt of electricity. Seeing it almost bite its tongue in pain is pretty therapeutic, actually.

Kyle lowers the voltage to let the robot catch his artificial breath. It's going to give up completely pretty soon. He'll have some fun with it first.

"So, your old friends ?"

Its pathetic sigh of relief is still very satisfying. It looks desperate, and tries to explain its past actions. It really doesn't need to. Kyle already knows they're unforgivable.

“When I was fighting the Golden Master, I meant no harm to any innocent people. I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I… I understand that in some ways, I have failed this function, but I do my best to help those in need.”

The android attempts to steady its breathing. Trying to keep keep a sliver of dignity in front of the enemy, maybe ?

Anyways, it stopped talking. Finally.

Kyle sighs and does his best not to give a snarky reply. It seems to believe in what it's saying, anyways. Further proof of how out of touch with reality its AI is.

Another spike of tension, and Kyle is smiling again.

"You didn't answer my question, Original. How was life with your… Boyfriends ? Kai Smith, Jay Walker and Cole Brookstone, yeah ?" He says, insisting on their last names. They know who they are. Perhaps that'll make it talk.

His excitement level goes through the roof at Original's reaction. It goes stiff, most likely from anger. He found the weak spot.

A whimper escapes it, but it doesn't adress it. It's really mad.

“You do not touch them," it snarls at him. If Kyle's hand had been close to its face, there was no doubt it would've bitten him. “If you hurt them, I swear on the First Spinjitzu Master that I will hunt you down to the ends of the-“ Kyle cuts him off by sending it a strong shock. It cries in pain. The blond doesn't feel bad.

"Calm down. I didn't even actually threaten them yet," The boy mutters, leaving the tension run high a few more seconds before leaving it room to breathe again. The pathetic sounds of relief it does each time makes him want to laugh.

"If I wanted to truly use them as hostages, I'd tell you I know which shop they go to every two weeks to buy supplies and food, which is the one at the end of the main avenue."

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the voltage starts going up again.

"I'd tell you we have live feed of them almost every day and everywhere they go."

The pain must be becoming close to absolutely unbearable, seeing how the android trashes around. Fun.

"Or… I'd tell you how one of them already got arrested once, and how easy it is to transfer prisoners or fake an accident."

The power is now all the way up. It's almost scary how much this artificial body can handle.

Before it actually physically breaks, though, Kyle shuts off the power. The android's breath of relief is broken up by what sounds like sobs.

The blond comes closer, chuckling as the machine flinches near him. He takes off the wires plugged into it.

"Don't you dare threaten me or her ever again. Remember who holds the power here," he mutters in its ear before joining Martha with a smile, his notepad black with scribbles. She looks satisfied.

The android looks like it wants to say something, but doesn't have the strength to do so anymore. That's a satisfying sight.

He leaves the room with Martha, closing the door after her.

She smiles at him.

"It's close. You were right, you can almost see it cracking by the minute."

She fondly ruffles his hair and he chuckles, his nose tickled.

"Good job, sweetie."

#the rights of a nindroid #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago zangst #psychological torture #torture #trauma

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luverofsupernatural · 3 years

Text

This Pain I Know (7): Your Light

First Book: These Hands of Mine Second Book: This Pain I Know Master list

Last Chapter: Pushing your body too far

Next Chapter: Your Darkness

Summary: Even with Marvin sedated, Chase isn't convinced that they are still safe. And he thinks there is still more he can do to help his family. Protect them and get Jameson back.

content warning: blood, violence, discussion of suicide

__________________________________

If Henrik had his way, Cat would have been left alone for hours on end. But Chase was smart enough to see the flaw in that plan. If Cat in fact stole, or mimicked, or... whatever he did to replicate Jackie’s powers, that means he also had Jackie’s healing powers. Which, in turn, meant he burned off sedative much faster than any normal human. Evil doesn’t change overnight. And the second he was alone and conscious, he’d either flee or finish off Jackie. Cat didn’t deserve any leniency simply because he was injured.

So, if it meant that Chase was sitting in the medical office, door open so he could watch Jackie, eating mac and cheese alone, that was alright with him. And after he’d scarfed down dinner, he just took to sitting on the chair, listening to the show that his brothers put on to distract themselves. But Chase kept multi-tasking. Checking to make sure Cat was still out cold, looking to see that Jackie was still fine (even if Henrik was out there), and thinking about all the terrible things that had been done to hurt his family. The thoughts weren’t fun, but they kept him hard, kept his mind awake and alert, and reminded him that the cycle never changes, no matter what someone says to convince you they’ve changed. It was only a manipulation to gain your trust back so they could hurt you even more.

But even through the pain, Chase found his eyes starting to slip closed. He tried chugging water, eating sugary foods, but the minutes started to drag on as he fought to stay awake. Henrik noticed and sent Chase to bed. Of course, Chase argued back, saying he needed to stand guard for Jackie’s and Jameson’s sake.

Henrik finally offered back, “Leave them to me. I’m going to be sleeping down here tonight anyway.”

“Ha! That’s rich!” Chase scoffed a little too loud, drawing Jackie’s attention. Henrik closed the door. Trying to make it more private? As if Jackie didn’t deserve to hear what was happening to his tormentor?

“Look, they both need to be monitored. I’d rather be steps away from my patients than have to trek the entire house to get down here.” Henrik was being quiet. Chase wouldn’t be.

“But you can’t guarantee that Cat won’t wake up! What if he wakes and tries to strangle Jackie while you’re asleep!”

“Chase! He’s sedated!” Henrik picked up Cat’s arm and then dropped it. It flopped on his chest and rested there. “He’s not going to wake up during the night! Do you not have any faith in me to do my job?”

Chase nearly smiled at that. “When it comes to people with powers, no. I don’t.” It felt sinisterly satisfying to watch Henrik try and contain the rage inside of him. But that came to a short end when Henrik grabbed Chase by the arm, opened the med office door and started dragging him up the stairs. Chase’s feet marched along to prevent himself from slipping on the ground. And although he tried to grab and loosen Henrik’s hand, the man had a grip of steel that wouldn’t be released by outside forces.

Reaching Chase’s room, Henrik flung open the door and threw Chase in there. It was a miracle Chase was still standing after nearly losing his balance. “You don’t trust me with them? Fine. But you are as human as they come Chase Brody. And as your doctor, I am ordering you bed rest because of the injuries you have sustained today. And if you don’t abide willingly, I will sedate you.” Henrik’s rage wasn’t funny anymore. But Chase never did like to show the doctor that he was intimidated by him.

“Do your fucking job of protecting our family, and I will.”

Instead of another round of berament, Henrik grabbed the door handle and slammed the door shut. Chase could have sworn he heard some wood splinters, but that didn’t matter. Effectively confined to his room, Chase blindly moved around until he could flop onto his bed. The clock read 10:30. He shouldn’t be tired now. But then again, maybe it was the pain meds or the actual beating he’d taken.

And then it dawned on him. Henrik needed to sleep too. And if the “good doctor” was anything, it was predictable. He’d be alert and waiting for Chase to come down during the first hour, maybe the first two if he was really bad. But, at some point, even Henrik would go to sleep. And he’d have an alarm to wake him up every hour on the hour.

If he wasn’t going to readminister the sedative, it would be wearing off soon. Anytime after 1 am would be a good time to expose that Cat was actually just lying in wait. Or, even better, a time when Chase could confront him about their sweet Jameson and not have anyone hold him back.

Albeit, Chase did pause at the thought of hitting Cat again. If Jackie hadn’t stepped in, he wasn’t sure what Cat would do to him. But maybe if he just kept badgering, kept at it, not entertaining any mind games, Cat would crack. He’d finally prove that he was useful.

Chase set his phone’s alarm to wake him up at 1:20. With any luck, Henrik would have finished his check-ups and tried to get back to sleep by then.

It was 1:25 by the time he managed to gain the mental capacity to roll out of bed and get on his feet. Making every step careful and deliberate, he worked his way to the top of the stairs and slowly descended. Peaking below the ceiling, he saw Henrik in the armchair. Moving a bit quicker, he rushed over to the medical office. With the greatest care, Chase slowly turned the door knob and pushed open the door, careful of its creaks, and closed it again, making sure to hear the click before he let himself breathe again.

Even though the window only allowed dim moonlight into the room, it was good enough light to see what he needed and keep his mission stealthy. “Hey,” Chase whispered yelled in Cat’s ear. Nothing. “Hey!” a bit louder this time. Still nothing. Chase grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking until then man finally roused from unconsciousness.

Unlike a cat, his eyes didn’t glow in the dark. Nothing like what Chase had seen the first night he encountered this man. But he could still see when the man in front of him opened his eyes. See the recognition that it was Chase in front of him. And the bitter turn as he fully returned to his senses. “What do you want?” his voice was low and still full of sleep.

“Where’s Jameson?” Chase returned in kind, malice dripping from his voice. He wasn’t leaving without an answer. But even though it registered, Cat just bided his time, sitting up so he was now taller than Chase by a few inches. “Where are you keeping him, you filthy scum?” Chase repeated himself, feeling heat start to burn at his cheeks.

It took a full minute of Chase just steaming there before Cat would give him anything. “What does it feel like?

“What?” Chase spat out, both confused at the question and annoyed that he was evading his own.

“To know you’ve failed them. Failed all of them.”

“Shut up.”

“Couldn’t keep Jameson safe...”

“Stop it.”

“Actually started to believe that Jackie was mad...”

“It’s your fault.”

“Couldn’t even manage to hold on to your two precious girls.” Before Chase could stop himself, he’d already thrown his fist at Cat’s face. He hit him hard too. Good.

“Don’t you DARE, say their names,” Chase breathed out, trying to find enough control to not beat him senseless.

Cat chuckled a little, placing a hand over his fresh injury site. Wiped his nose before starting to ramble on. “You’re still just as powerless as before.”

“Shut up!” Chase could feel himself losing it, his hands tightening. He closed his eyes, tried to take a few breaths, and stepped back. He opened and tried to keep an even, steady, low tone. “You know where he is. I can still save him.”

“And if you don’t save him? What then? You gonna hit me some more? Put me within an inch of my life? Think that’ll make it all better?” Chase wanted to yell at him. He just didn’t know what to say. “Do you think your brothers, do you think Jackie, will still love you after you do something like that?”

“My brothers will always love me, unlike you, you venomous snake.”

“They sure have a funny way of showing it then. Always berating you, belittling you, babying you because they don’t think you can be left alone.”

“Jameson never...”

“So even if you do manage to get Jameson back, they will still always be your enemies. And if you don’t, and show them your true side, well, you’ll be all but dead to them. Unless, of course, you actually do decide to be dead.”

“Shut up!”

“Maybe I’ve already poisoned Henrik. Maybe when you fail to get Jameson back you’ll kill me. Henrik will turn on you, and Jackie, your sweet protector will be the only one left. But even he will leave you too. After all, it is your fault Jameson’s gone.

“You’re the one that took him!”

“You’re the one that left him alone. Didn’t listen to your brother and stay put, and now he may wind up dead. At least with your two girls you could claim that it wasn’t your fault, that you had no idea it would happen. But with Jameson, that guilt compounded with your grief. I can’t imagine you’ll last one night after that. Oh, and, go for a gun next time. You will truly have nothing left, so why leave yourself open for the cruel possibility of hope someone will save you again.”

His heart was a pit of black. There was a scalpel on the counter. And in a second, the scalpel was in his hand and the blade pressed against Cat’s neck. Chase couldn’t talk. His throat was all choked up and all he could muster were slow breathes. He scowled at Cat. Because how dare he presume everything, try and take his family away.

Cat didn’t say anything back. Just lifted his head up so he could look Chase in the eyes. There was no fear in them. They were just... cold. And Chase tried to press further, actually spill a bit of blood, but then his body started trembling and his mind started crying and his throat was spasming.

And even though this evil man deserved to suffer, Chase pulled away, turning around and dropping the scalpel on the table. His eyes finally spilled tears that Cat would never see. And despite his efforts, Chase was crying out. Softly, but his enemy would still hear it.

“What are you doing here?” Cat sounded genuinely curious. And that tiny question felt like a stab in his already bleeding heart.

“What am I doing here?!” He choked out, trying to get a hold of himself. Chase would have been yelling if his throat could handle it. But for now, he had to settle for just regular talking. “I wanted answers. I wanted to know where you’re keeping my brother! But it seems you’d rather die than do that.” Chase choked down tears. “He’s just a pawn to you. But you have no idea about the man you’ve stolen.”

“I’ve been inside all your heads. Jameson’s been a little puppet for me since I first met him. I know him well enough.”

Chase wanted to strangle him. But he fueled that rage into his words. “No you don’t! He keeps us in check. Reminds us there are still wonderful things and creations in the world. Helps guide our moral compasses and spur us into action if need be. He grew up at a disadvantage, and he hasn’t let it harden him. He is the embodiment of being careful but still loving and kind. He knows the value, cost, and power in trust and love. He is what makes this family good.

“And now that you’ve taken him from us,” Chase started laughing, despite nothing being funny about any of this, “what makes you think we’d ever give up trying to get him back? Won’t do anything to bring back the light of this family?”

“It took you less than 24 hours to go insane. That has to be a record of some kind.”

“You’re a creature of darkness too. When you find someone who brings light, you need them to stay in your life. They make you feel good, feel alright, help justify any misdeeds you may have done.

“... I’ve already had my lights taken and snuffed out once. I won’t let it happen again.” And Chase thought of something he hadn’t yet tried. “You want a hostage? Take me. Use me. Make me your puppet. Do whatever the hell you want with me. As long as they get Jameson back.” Chase wasn’t crying. It was a brilliant plan. And he let himself have hope for an ounce of a second. But Chase couldn’t read Cat’s mind, nor see how his expression changed. It took this fiend he was bargaining with a full minute to mull it over.

“That’s not going to happen.”

Chase wrapped his hand around Cat’s throat. He didn’t squeeze, and Cat didn’t try and resist. Chase let go, his fire fading inside of him. He walked over and sat on the stool that Henrik kept in there. Looking out the window, up at the sky, even the stars seemed to be mocking him.

“What even is your plan?” Chase heard his voice crack as the tears flowed freely and his throat became very narrow and raw. There was no sense trying to hide it now. Cat was their prisoner, but he’d still won. “Kill Jackie? Kill all of us? Or just break us? Make us your puppets? Or maybe just let yourself die and Jameson along with you? Whatever it is, can you just do it already?” He still had trouble getting a breath, but he was talking better. “You’re the one with all the cards right now. Nothing I say or do is going to change your mind or your plan, so just, get on with it already. Okay? You’ve won.”

Chase kept his head up. Jameson had always told him to keep his head up when things were at their lowest. Something about a placebo effect. God I wish you were here Jameson. I’m sorry I let this happen to you.

There was the sound of movement behind him, feet shuffling. Then some lower murmuring. Chase closed his eyes to take a large breath in and out. Tears flowed down his cheeks still. He could imagine what Cat was doing right now. Slowly making his way over to Chase, picking up the scalpel Chase had tried to use on him. Getting ready to finally get revenge on Chase and add to their family’s grief. He was so tired. Maybe this was the only way it would ever end. Pathetic, useless, and brought on by himself. “If you’re gonna slice my throat,” Chase started, sure Cat was nearly on top of him now, “try and hit an artery. Makes it quicker, so I have less time to scream.”

There was a beat. Chase wasn’t sure he’d get any last words. “That’s good to know.” Cat wasn’t close. Chase turned slightly and saw Cat still sitting on the medical bed. “But I’m not the one who’s going to kill you, Chase.” He turned more, now facing Cat fully. The man took a large breath in and out and looked at the floor. “It’s not my intention to kill any of you. I just need Jackie to suffer for betraying me. I know you may be the only one in this family that understands that.” Chase wanted to believe he was lying. But they’d all nearly died by his hands.

“Why should I trust anything you tell me?” Chase wasn’t accusing, just tired. Tired of having to fight all the time.

“Are you dead?” Not a very convincing metric. “I promise, I will try my best to keep Jameson alive.”

Chase finally got up to start heading back to his room, knowing that unfortunately, he could do nothing more tonight. “You’d better keep that promise. Jameson hates it when you break promises.”

________________________________

Author Note: So, I do hope you are still enjoying this series. And I hope these characters actions still seem to line up with how I've written them so far. I sometimes love the dialogue I write too much to change it, even if it might be a bit out of character. But they are all dealing with so much anyway. how the hell are they supposed to react.

anyway, i'm just rambling because I've written myself into a corner in chapter 10 and am unsure how to get to the scenes I've already made in my head. I really think you'll like 8 and 9 though, once I edit and post

taglist: @autumnrambles, @sa-sxken, @septicuniverse, @scubacatwoman,

#writersofjack #jse fanfiction #jse egos #jacksepticeye egos #chase brody #henrik schneeplestein #marvin the magician #marvin the malevolent #jameson jackson #sapphirerubywrites #these hands of mine #this pain i know

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-2nd Place

If you’ve been paying attention to Disney’s televised animation, you’d noticed that there’s been a weird trend going on with their shows. Recently, most of Disney’s shows begin as random comedies only to have a deep story to them in later seasons. Some shows soar as they do this right, and others tend to flail as they do it wrong. Personally, I would like to think it’s all because of one show that Disney has made. And since its series finale, the network tries their hardest to replicate it due to how well received it was. And despite the many attempts, no one can do better than--

#2-Gravity Falls (2012-2016)

The Plot: Twin siblings Dipper and Mabel Pines are forced by their parents to spend the summer in Gravity Falls, Oregon. But don’t worry, their parents are not entirely careless. They just sent their only children to spend the summer with their con artist of a great uncle with a deep, dark secret...okay, so they're a little careless. In fact, the parents might be more irresponsible than you think because Gravity Falls isn’t the small backwater town as it seems. Soon enough, Dipper and Mabel will learn that it’s a town with monsters, demons, and a mysterious author who recorded all of the town’s weirdness in his journals. Will the Pines twins solve the town's mysteries, or is their summer going to be over sooner than they thought?

By the way, I FREAKING love this premise! The idea of an entire town being filled with mysteries and monsters is so compelling to me because the possibilities are endless. One episode could be dealing with zombies, and another could be dealing with an entire society dedicated to keeping the town’s weirdness a secret. On top of that, every monster/weird oddity that Dipper and Mable face is just so creative, from a multi-headed bear to even the main antagonist being (and I kid you not) the Illuminati symbol wearing a top hat. And even when the show does use monsters you’ve seen before, they utilize them in a way you wouldn’t have expected. For example, there are two episodes where the characters deal with ghosts. In both scenarios, the methods these ghosts use to haunt the living are not just creative and scary, but in some instances, they can also be kinda funny. There’s just no telling what this show is going to pull off. Or at least, not entirely.

Because another great thing this show has is its mystery element. And I don’t mean just how well it handles mystery within a single episode (although it does that phenomenally too). What I mean is that Gravity Falls has a great overarching mystery that you, the audience, can solve for yourself. With that comes the show’s impressive attention to detail. From the secret codes to solve, to the lines/scenes you wouldn’t have thought twice about, to even a single license plate. That’s right. A single license plate is an essential clue to the show's most significant twist ever. In fact, it’s a twist that fans have solved years in advance due to all the hints that were left within previous episodes. And most of the credit goes to Alex Hirsh and his team. They really put a lot of effort into what many would describe, a kids cartoon. Even though this might just be the most adult kid's cartoon that I have ever seen.

You know how Pixar movies try their darndest to make films suitable for both children and their parents? That’s basically what Gravity Falls does. Whether you’re an adult or child, odds are you will be entertained in nearly every episode because rarely does it feel like an episode leans too far in either direction. If there’s an episode with a serious story, there’s always a silly/lighthearted subplot to keep the kids entertained. And if there’s an episode that is just silly all the way through, there are adult jokes that make you ask, “How the hell did a Disney cartoon get away with that?” Even when the show gets genuinely creepy, it works just perfectly above the line of going too far for kids (except in “Northwest Mansion Mystery." S**t gets real in that episode). Many kid's shows in the 2010s struggled to find this balance, and Gravity Falls is another one of those rare exceptions that somehow feels like it does it without even trying.

And what keeps that balance? The show’s sense of humor, that’s what. Even in the darkest episodes of the series, there is almost a well-placed joke to lighten the mood. And with Gravity Falls, the show relies on four types of humor. Being random, being surreal, being smart, and being dark. And not just dark for a Disney cartoon. I mean that Gravity Falls has a dark sense of humor that I would have expected in something like Rick and Morty (which is fitting because the creators of both shows are actually close friends in real life). As for how funny the jokes are in this series, they. Are. SO. Funny. I’m not kidding when I say that every single episode--and I do mean, every. Single. Episode--has made me laugh at least once. Not even the best comedy shows that I’ve seen have been capable of doing something so spectacular.

But do you want to know why the comedy is so hilarious? And do you want to know what really kept me invested in all 40 episodes? The answer is simple: It’s all because of the characters. Most jokes are funny because the right person said them. I care about the show’s mysteries because the characters make me care about those mysteries. And when the stakes get high, I’m invested because I care about the characters so much that I fear they’ll get hurt. In fact, I was so invested in all of these characters that the series finale made me cry FOUR TIMES due to how heart-wrenching it was. And I don’t weep that often when it comes to specific media. Most of the time, I get a little misty-eyed, and even when it feels like a scene has yanked at my heartstrings, I usually get myself under control before any real tears show up. But with the series finale of Gravity Falls, I was so emotionally invested with this cast that I was tearing up with them as tearful goodbyes were said. This is because Gravity Falls’ writers know that the key to making any story work is to have a great cast of characters. Because it doesn’t matter how epic your plot is. If I’m not invested in the characters winning the day, then I won’t be invested in the story.

Now at this point, you’re probably wondering what is wrong with this show. To that, I say virtually nothing...Okay, that’s not true. There are some problems the show has, but trust me when I say that the good heavily outweighs the bad. Are there occasional continuity errors? Yes. But they’re usually intentional for misdirection or made up with really great attention to detail in other scenes. Are there occasionally bad jokes? Of course. But like I said: EVERY. EPISODE. IS. FUNNY. So who cares if not every joke lands? Are there also a couple bland characters? Obviously. However, they’re either made better in later episodes or forgotten quickly due to even more memorable characters. And now the big one: Are there bad episodes? And there are...in comparison to the show’s usual quality. Even when Gravity Falls is at its “worst,” the writing is still somehow entertaining in its own right. Hell, the real complaint I have involving the series isn’t even about the show itself. It’s about other shows on the network.

Like I’ve said in the beginning, as of late, there has been a lot of modern Disney cartoons trying too hard to be the new Gravity Falls. And they’re all best intentions met with poor execution. The best (or should I say worst) example I can think of is Tangled: The Series, a television series based on Disney’s Tangled. The first batch of episodes was cute, harmless, and downright charming. Then halfway through the first season, it becomes dark, dark, and even darker. And unfortunately, the show’s quality feels like it took a dip with its direction. As for other Disney cartoons, they follow a similar pattern, with the thought that Gravity Falls did the same thing. The problem is that it didn’t. From the very first episode, the show started off by hinting that it isn’t as cute and innocent as it seems. Sure the stories got significantly darker in season two, but they slowly worked their way towards earning that by slowly becoming more dramatic with each episode. And like I said, even at its darkest, the writers still knew when to keep the tone light. So that’s really the only logical problem I have with Gravity Falls: It made people think they need to be more like Gravity Falls.

When I hear that people wish the show was brought back, I honestly don’t get it. The series ended on a perfect note, with very few questions left unanswered. And the unanswered questions were actually answered through other media such as books or comics. And if you ask me, I’d rather have the series come to an end in the way that it did. It had a perfect premise told with fascinating mysteries, funny comedy, infesting characters, and even a kickass theme song (I know that I didn’t mention that last bit, but trust me when I say that it’s so GOOD). Why ruin that by turning it into something like The Simpsons, where a show would just get stale after too many seasons? In the end, while I was sad to see it go, I’m still happy to say that this is always going to be a show that will make you Fall in love with it.

(But the real mystery is: What series is going to top a cartoon that was practically perfect?)

(...)

(Who am I kidding. You’ve probably already figured it out by now.)

#top 20 of 2010s #gravity falls #what i thought about

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britesparc · 3 years

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Weekend Top Ten #464

Top Ten Feelgood Moments in Movies

Serendipity’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I’ve been planning to make this week about feelgood films since, oooh, late November maybe. I mean, we’ve had enough misery since 2016 to last us an entire Middle-Earth Extended Edition boxset. We need our Pelennor Fields moments wherever we can get them, and Joe Biden being sworn in as President is a good a moment as any right now. So anyway, that was the plan, and then along comes good old Empire magazine with a month dedicated to top cinema moments. They’re not all feelgood, to be fair – there’s the chestburster scene from Alien for a kick-off – but it’s one of those instances of curious synchronicity. What I’m saying is, I didn’t rip them off, okay? This was percolating since the Tangerine Nightmare lost Georgia.

Anyway: feelgood.

This was surprisingly hard, because the moments that I cherish aren’t always feelgood. Even in Lord of the Rings, even in the Pelennor Fields, the whole Ride of the Rohirrim stuff is laced with tragedy. The best bits of those films – “Fly, you fools!”, “For Frodo,” “I can’t carry it but I can carry you,” “Go away and don’t come back” – they’re all melancholy, aren’t they? It’s a saga about people being heroic under duress, and in those cases quite often people don’t make it back all in one piece. Think about Pixar, what are the great moments? “Thanks for the adventure, “So long partner,” “Take her to the moon for me” – they’re all about loss. Or rather, new joy from loss, hope from despair, that kind of thing. They’re terrific, they always make me cry, but they’re not exactly feelgood if you know what I mean.

So here we are. Moments of utter joy, that’s what I’m after. Heart soaring, tears pouring, euphoric moments of extreme happiness. I’ve tried for the most part to avoid joyous moments of excess: there’s one explosion and one bit where a dude gets stabbed in the face, but for the most part I’ve eschewed “feelgood violence” for want of a better word. These are scenes that are supposed to make you smile.

And y’know what? We could all do with smiling more in this day and age.

Good luck, Joe and Kamala. Do a good job. Take us to the moon.

(P.S. spoiler alert for, well, pretty much every film in the list)

“Happy birthday, Aunt Lucy.” (Paddington 2, 2017): after ninety minutes of watching Paddington bring out the best in everybody just by existing, we all feel he deserves a happy ending. And everyone pulls together and gets it for him. Everyone he’s helped, everyone whose life he touched, they’re all there, leading Paddington – and us – to the door. As an adult, you know what’s coming; kids are less sure. But it’s a joyous moment of nothing but true happiness. Two CGI characters hug with such sincerity you can feel the warmth from the screen, and then comes those last words – quiet, whispered, almost thrown away. It’s perfect.

“When you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” (When Harry Met Sally, 1989): romcom endings are very hard. You’ve navigated a couple’s relationship, generally speaking you’ve split them up in act three, and now they need to get back together in a big, extravagant way, that undoes the plot machinations that separated them. No one does it as well as Harry here, delivering a soliloquy on what it means to be in love, loving a person’s quirks and foibles and how they occupy your mind, ending with that superb line. Sally says it best: when he says stuff like that, he makes it impossible for us to hate him.

“On your left.” (Avengers: Endgame, 2019): Captain America stands alone, battered and beaten, his unbreakable shield broken. The vast armies of Thanos stand before him. He faces certain death, and the probable destruction of everything. He grits his teeth, tightens his shield straps, and then… Sam Wilson’s voice, delivering a line from several films ago, a moment of levity and shared continuity. His friends arrive, slowly at first; Black Panther, the Guardians, Spider-Man. Legions from across the cosmos. “Is that everyone?” asks Doctor Strange. “You wanted more?!” replies Wong. And then giant Ant-Man bursts through a building, with Hulk and co. An army of good from across the galaxy to face the forces of evil. Cap calls forth Mjolnir (and that moment was so nearly my choice), and then… “Avengers… assemble.”

“That’ll do, pig.” (Babe, 1995): Babe is one of those films that’s mostly joy: feelgood throughout, really, despite moments of drama or sadness. But after some nail-biting scenes as Farmer Hoggett and his piggy bud do their sheepdog act, we have a moment of angsty silence before the crowd goes ballistic, cheers everywhere, women crying, top marks. And then very softly, oh-so-tenderly, Hoggett’s great catchphrase. It’ll do. It’ll always do.

“Indiana… let it go.” (Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, 1989): a film built on witty repartee and full-throated spectacle, Crusade lingers in the memory due to the subtle character work between father and son. They mend their fractured relationship over the course of the movie, but it’s really symbolised when Henry saves “Junior” at the expense of rescuing the Grail, calling Indiana by his chosen name for the first time in the film. It’s a great character beat, and is followed shortly afterwards by the protagonists literally riding off into the sunset.

“I am no man!” (The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, 2003): as I alluded to above, the Rings trilogy is full of incredible moments of awe, pathos, tragic heroism, and bittersweet joy. But arguably the biggest cheer is reserved for when Eowyn of Rohan dispatches the Witch-King of Angmar courtesy of a Shakespearean loophole in his whole “no man can kill me!” schtick. Coming between the awe-inspiring Ride of the Rohirrim and the death of Theoden, it’s a terrific punch of joy and satisfaction.

“E.T. phone HOOOOOME!” (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982): E.T. is another of those films full of joy, but it’s also tinged with sadness. Melancholia bleeds into the film like sunlight through Elliot’s blinds. E.T. himself spends half the film getting sicker and sicker, until he appears to die, all pale and cold-looking. But then! The flower comes back to life! His heart glows bright red, visible through his weird hyperbaric chamber/coffin thing! Elliot flings back the lid, and E.T. barks his catchphrase euphorically. God, it’s great.

“Andy Dufresne, who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.” (The Shawshank Redemption, 1994): it’s a bit of a grim watch, Shawshank; this isn’t a Paddington-style joy-fest. Andy is wrongfully impression and then spends twenty years being brow-beaten and abused before making his escape. But what an escape; not just the audacity of it – not just the fact he gets out at all – but how he ingeniously tunnels his way out over the decades, steals the warden’s ill-gotten money, exposes the scandal at the prison, and – as Red says – crawls through a sewer. It’s a beautifully put-together scene, everyone getting their just desserts and deserved rewards, and is capped off shortly after when Red himself is released and gets to retire alongside his friend.

“You’re all clear, kid, now let’s blow this thing and go home!” (Star Wars, 1977): I almost had the mothership explosion from Independence Day on this list, because I remember how much that impacted me as a teenager; seeing the baddie aliens get theirs was just great. But really it’s a replication of this, the grandaddy of all “beating the bad guys” big bangs. Luke, whiney teenager from nowhere, ends up flying an X-Wing against the evil oppressive Empire’s mighty Death Star. When all hope seems lost, Han Solo returns, proving his heroism, knocking Darth Vader for six and leaving our hero free and clear to use the Force, Luke. Cue phenomenal fireball. Joy!

“I’m singin’ in the rain…” (Singin’ in the Rain, 1952): musicals are joyous, aren’t they? A proper old-fashioned feelgood sing-song can be transcendent. “Singin’ in the Rain” – as in, the song/dance number – is about a bloke so bloody happy that he doesn’t care if he gets wet. It’s a euphoric statement of intent, a declaration of both love and supreme serenity in and of itself. And as a piece of cinema, it’s all that and more; an escalating dance routine, as the music soars and the camera lifts up, and we take in the splendour of this one bloke kicking in puddles. It’s daft, it’s funny, and it’s just, well, feelgood.

#top ten #movies #feelgood #feelgood movie moments #joe biden #kamala harris #inauguration

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chysgoda · 5 years

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Rivalry of Concepts Tales from the Architect’s Bureau

Word Count: 1881

Rating: G Spoilers: 5.0, tales from the shadows

Author’s Notes: Various micro scenes from the days before the End Times.

“No.”

“Sir, it is a concept that only a skilled and astute artist can use effectively.”

Hades glared at the artist on the other side of his desk as he steepled his fingers together in front of his face. There was a list of… problem children within the Bureau. Citizens that with astounding regularity caused chaos and disaster within the halls of his domain. Shupakor was on that list. “We do not restrict the use of concepts unless there is a public safety hazard, and a paint is not a safety hazard. Even if I were to entertain the ridiculous notion it would be the creator of the concept that would have exclusive use.”

“With all due respect Sir-“

“Respect would have been NOT terrorizing my staff until I had to come intervene.” Hades said dryly. Shupakor’s chest puffed out in indignation but the Architect glared his gold eyes intensely perturbed behind his mask. “The answer is No. try to appeal this again and I WILL censure you.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Tewaple!” Hythlodaeus stood up and rounded his desk to greet his friend. The lanky figure grinned brightly as he embraced the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect. Tewaple cut a memorable figure, paint splashes stained the hems of his sleeves and his mask, his robes fit horribly because he never bothered to create the things to fit properly. They embraced and Hythlodaeus motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk as he took the other one. “The paperwork for you’re new concept for a paint just crossed my desk.”

“That’s what I was hoping to speak with you about!” Tewaple’s tone would have been overly enthusiastic for anyone else. For him it was nearly professional.

Hythlodaeus arched an eyebrow behind his mask. “This one isn’t going to need an appeal my friend.”

“I know, I know, but I’d like to ask a favor.” Tewaple gestured broadly.

“And that is?”

“I want to ban Shupakor from using it.”

Hythlodaeus pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Tewaple, this is why you’re on the list of problem children.”

“I know that he’s trying to get exclusive use of the concept Nyx submitted.” The artist protested.

“And you know he will get the same answer.” Hythlodaeus sighed. “He’s in Emet-Selch’s office now, Hades had to intervene when he antagonized one of our new staff almost to tears.”

“Jackass,” Tewaple grumbled.

“I do not disagree,” Hythlodaeus sighed. “Was there anything else?”

“Were you still planning on coming to the gallery opening?” Tewaple asked as he stood.

The other man nodded, “I am and I think I’m going to drag Hades’s new protege along she’s the one that Shupakor upset.”

Tewaple arched an eyebrow, “Not something I’d expect from a student of the Architect.”

Hythlodaeus chuckled, “She’s Elidibus’s daughter. She did her father proud but Hades and I have both known her since she was a smol and she’s got the same tells as the Emissary.”

The artist made a sympathetic noise, “Poor thing was probably mortified when Emet-Selch came down from on high to rescue her.”

“You have no idea.”

~*~*~*~*~

Bragi smiled as he watched his daughter putter around the kitchen of their apartment preparing dinner. He set his convocation mask down and lowered the white hood of his robes. “Hades mentioned that you’re doing well at the Architect’s Bureau.”

“I’d be doing better if he didn’t breathe down my neck.” Ananke groused.

Bargi chuckled and stepped over to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into a side hug. “It’s not too late to back out of concept design and sign up with the Akademia’s music department for fall semester.”

Ananke gently elbowed him in the ribs gently. “You just want to vicariously relive your glory days as a concert pianist. Besides, I can do both.”

“Just don’t overload yourself. The first year at the Akadaemia is designed to be brutal” He kissed the top of her head and then stepped back when she started to dish dinner onto plates for them. He took his plate from her and they moved to the dining room. “So how are things going?”

“Stars and Stones, Uncle Hades is so EMBARRASSING!” Ananke dropped her face into her hands. She glanced up when her father started chuckling. “It’s not funny Dad.”

“I assure you that it is.”

“At least Uncle Daeus can be professional,” the girl grumbled to her plate.

Bragi stifled his chuckles, he very much doubted that it was actually that bad. “There is a reason he was offered Emet-Selch’s seat first.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes and Bragi worked on putting concerns of the convocation aside for now. He’d promised his wife before she died, promised himself, when he was home he’d be home with their child, not half absent on convocation business. Still, whispers of what was happening beyond the sea pulled at the back of his thoughts.

“I was relieved when he swept in like that,” Ananke said quietly. “I wasn’t sure what else I could say to that man.”

“Shupakor and the Bureau of the Architect have a long-standing… relationship” Bragi said carefully.

“That’s a very Elidibus way of saying that.” The young woman narrowed her eyes at him.

He shrugged. “Evidently having to deal with Shupakor is something of a right of passage. Hades and his predecessor have both had to rescue their staff from him every time he comes to Bureau.”

“Oh,” Ananke said her posture relaxing a bit. “If he’s such a problem why hasn’t he been censored yet?”

“He never quite crosses the line, although knowing Hades he may just do it. Even if it puts him at odds with Lahabrea and Nabriales,” Bragi reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Which will make Convocation meetings entertaining for quite a while. All three of them hold grudges.”

Ananke wrinkled her nose. “I hope I never get offered a Convocation seat. primary school has less drama.”

Bragi swallowed hard and coughed as laughter took him by surprise.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Lilith stood and glared at the thing that had appeared in the city’s largest park overnight. She’s been back in the city for all of three hours before getting dragged from her bed and the warm hollow between her two lovers by a call about a thing that had appeared. Next to her Hades needlessly adjusted his mask as he glared at the thing as well.

Behind them, Hythlodaeus and Lilith’s second Alcibiades gave each other resigned looks. Someone was going to get it in the neck for this. The two convocation members consulted together in low tones and the few citizens that were up in this predawn gray gave the group a wide berth. There was going to be a new piece of public art in this location but Hythlodaeus knew well that the concept had not yet been released by Emet-Selch for discussion amongst the convocation.

“Who are they going to string up for this?” Alcibiades’s smooth baritone would have netted him an invitation to “dinner” if Hythlodaeus had been a single man.

“Shupakor.” Hythlodaeus sighed as he watched his two lovers. Alcibiades cursed under his breath. For reasons neither of them could fathom both Lahabrea and Nabriales favored the arrogant artist. “Precisely.”

“Fuck.”

“Unfortunately I am the faithful type.”

Alcibiades drew in a long breath and released it slowly. “Why are you like this?”

“My friend, you really have no idea how little sanity there is to be found in the Architect’s Bureau.”

~**~**~**~**~**~

“The Concept had not been approved yet!”

“How long has it been sitting on your desk Emet-Selch?!”

“That is irrelevant Nabriales! IT. WAS. NOT. APPROVED.”

Ananke sat outside of the Convocation’s chamber and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. She held the stack of meticulously documented incidents where Shupakor had tried to circumvent the Bureau’s policies. She frowned finding a tear in the hem of her sleeve, she must have caught it on a drawer when she had been digging the files out of the vault. A moment of thought and a spark of aether fixed it. She glanced at the closed doors and shook her head. So many of her friends were in awe of the Convocation, she’d given up trying to convince them there wasn’t really anything awe inspiring about fourteen grown adults who mostly just yelled at each other.

“It’s a giant fire hazard Lahabrea that’s why it hasn’t been approved!”

“Then why wasn’t the artist consulted sooner?”

“Why did the artist think it was appropriate to bypass Emet-Selch?”

Ananke glanced up a second before Hythlodaeus came around the corner. He smiled amiably and took a seat next to her. “They’re still at it?”

The young woman nodded, “It’s mostly Lahabrea, Emet-Selch, Nabriales, and Preasul. I think I heard Mitron once.”

“This could have been avoided is all that I’m trying to say!”

“Do you think your father will add his thoughts?” Hytholdaeus took the stack of documents from her and started rearranging them.

“Maybe if you did your job instead of sleeping at your desk-”

“Not unless it looks like someone is going to start throwing aether around.” Ananke leaned over to see how the Chief was organizing the files.

“It is hardly my fault that you can’t manage your time Igeyorhm!”

Hythlodaeus glanced at the doors. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”

There was a loud crack as if something heavy had been slammed against the surface. Anake grimaced, “That is probably Lahabrea trying to use the Rules of Order as a trump card.”

“You have GOT to be joking!”

“Lilith if you and Hades cannot be bothered to remember the rules of this Convocation-”

The pair in the hall went silent. That was a rather large faux pas on the part of the Speaker.

“That will be quite enough. I would suggest we recess for lunch and come back with cooler heads.”

Ananke sighed in relief. She still wasn’t sure how her father managed to make his voice carry like that without shouting. She was almost positive he used aether to do it, but she’d never been able to replicate it. Hythlodaeus squeezed her shoulder and smiled. “Well, at least the boss makes sure we eat well when he drags us up here.”

Ananke gave a startled laugh which turned into hiccups when she tried to strangle it as the Convocation of Fourteen filed out in various flavors of upset. She could feel her father’s arched eyebrow behind his mask when he stepped out. Elidibus glanced over his shoulder to look back at where Emet-Selch was blocking Praesul’s path as they hissed whispers at each other. He shook his head and motioned for his daughter to join him. “Hythlodaeus would you please let Emet-Selch know that I will return his intern when he can think clearly.”

Hythlodaeus nodded sagely, “So we’ll see her when she is voted in to take his place.”

Ananke made a strangled sound of embarrassment that earned her an amused smile from Halmarut as he walked by. Elidibus gently took his daughter’s arm and wondered, not for the first time, if encouraging her to work at the Bureau of the Architect for the summer before entering the Akademia had been a wise idea.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #Tales from the Architects Bureau #emet selch #the 14th #hythlodaeus #elidibus #amaurot #emet selch has a serious case of summer camp memories about amaurot

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mollymaymaukme · 5 years

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Mollymauk x Reader: From Beyond the Grave, Part 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The Nein spend the next few days wrapping up loose ends and exploring the town. They meet with Ophelia Mardun and he listens for the first time as they detail their delve into the Sour Nest. A soft smile gracing his lips as he learns that it was Caleb who dealt the killing blow.

Later, not with the scary tiefling lady present, they would talk at length about Nila and her family. About the soft firbolg who comforted them after Molly’s death. Detailing Keg’s transformation as she took responsibility for what happened on the road and how she faced down Lorenzo later in battle.

The Nein stocked up on health potions and Jester prayed often to the Traveler for him to impart the resurrection spell upon her. To ensure what happened with Molly would never happen again. It was a strange mix of celebration and grieving. The group still shaken that one of their own had fallen so easily.

So Mollymauk tried to smooth over the chasms in their hearts that he had created. Going alone with Caleb to a book shop. Offering Nott one of his many pieces of jewelry and helping her pierce her ear when she requested it and looping the dangling trinket through the new hole. He talked to Fjord at length about his time on the sea when they laid in bed at night. Browsed a bakery with Jester. Sparred with Beau. And of course spent every spare moment next to Yasha.

And it was not that he grew tired of doing these things with his friends. . .but it wore him down. Every day he spent in Shady Creek Run the pull in his stomach grew stronger. Demanding that he follow it.

It made him irritable. He felt suffocated in this town and pair that with his renewed panic at the slightest feeling of claustrophobia and he became a ticking time bomb.

Poor Caduceus didn’t deserve being on the receiving end of his pent up emotions. He knew that. It was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” The firbolg had questioned even as he sat on the ground beside the stump Molly was perched on.

“I don’t own the ground. Sit where you please.” He ran the whetstone down his sword with a little more force than necessary, creating an unpleasant shrieking noise.

Mollymauk had been spending as much time outdoors as possible. It helped alleviate the stifling feeling just a little. “It is always nice to get some fresh air.” Caduceus states as he runs a hand through the grass.

Molly just gives an irritated huff of acknowledgement, still focusing on his blade. “I find that whenever I am unsure or upset, sitting in nature helps me connect to the Wildmother.” The firbolg pays no mind to the way Molly clenches his jaw “She is quite comforting. I know some people think her cruel since accepting violent events are apart of her teachings. But it is the fact that she accepts the natural order of the world that brings me comfort. Acknowledges death but also life-”

“Would you shut up about your dear Wild mother?!” Molly snaps, tossing aside the whet stone as he spins to glare at the firbolg.

Caduceus does not react, at least not in the way Molly had thought he would, he merely turns to Molly with a calm expression. It was so patronizing.

“I do not give a damn what you find comfort in!” He continues on, pointing the sword in his hand at the firbolg a bit threateningly. Still he does not react. So Molly gets on his feet “What's even your fucking reason for sticking around, eh?” His tail is lashing around behind him “You know they were just keeping you around with the hope you’d bring me back right? They were just using you” That's not true. And the horrible part is that Molly knows that. But he just wants to hurt someone so they can feel their blood boil in their veins just like him.

Finally he seems to have gotten through to Caduceus. The firbolgs brow furrowing and mouth drawing into a sad frown. But then he says something that makes Molly’s skin crawl “You feel like you have to leave. . .and you don’t want to admit that to your friends, who only just came to terms with your return.”

“Shut up! You don’t know what I feel like!” Mollys screaming now, a white knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword.

“Yes I do. The Wildmother is telling you to-”

“Stop talking about the fucking Wildmother!” He hadn’t even realized he had swung his blade until he meets the resistance of Caduceus staff. His entire body freezing as he understands what he just did.

---

“What are you making?” The tiefling is leaning over her shoulder, watching the deft fingers weave grass and flowers in a wreath.

“It is the symbol of the only mother I ever knew, the Wildmother.” She is swirling the top of a willow branch and tying it to the wreath so that it holds the spiral. The whole thing fits in her palm.

“Why?” He pretends not to notice the way she shudders when his breath hits the shell of her ear.

She is quiet “It's a gift. . .I’m making one for each of them”

Molly knew she was talking about the children. When they had been packing up to leave the city he had convinced both Gustav and Y/n to allow them to travel together. There were good foster homes in the next city, Molly had inquired ruthlessly to ensure so, and he had insisted that Y/n and her brood travel with the circus to their next destination.

When she learned of this plan she had been furious with him. Nearly clawing his eyes out as she thought he threatened to take them away from her. Eventually Yasha had been able to calm her down enough to explain that this would give them the best chance for a good life.

This feral force of nature had broken down into tears. Mollymauk had been shocked, as had Yasha who awkwardly patted her back where she had collapsed into the Barbarian.

The Wild Woman had questioned the hopeful parents extensively, spying on them and inquiring about them. Wringing them out and laying their secrets bare for her to see. To assure they were fit to raise her children.

They had been.

She had been heartbroken to part with them all. They truly were her children. But she knew that they would receive clothes and food and have a bed of their very own if she agreed. “Its. . .not an exact replication of the symbol, since that could get them into trouble--but similar enough to be a reminder.”

He looks over her features, free of dirt now, and also lacking that hardened expression she usually had. Instead her eyes were shining with tears and her bottom lip trembled. Molly runs a hand through her hair, now brushed, hoping it gave her comfort like it gave him. His stomach fluttering when she leans into his touch.

She had undergone a rather severe transformation since traveling with them. Orna had seen to that. Her body scrubbed free of dirt and grime, hair brushed and plaited out of her face, nails sanded down, and she wore a new set of borrowed clothes.

“Teach me how to make it. I can help.” He goes to sit cross legged in front of her and listens intently as she explains how to makes the knots.

The loose sleeves of her blouse billow in the breeze and he momentarily becomes entranced at how her hair shifts over her collarbones. He shakes himself from it and returns to focusing on braiding the wreath tightly. “Can you tell me about her? The Wildmother?”

---

He can clearly recollect the way her face lit up as she spoke about the goddess. Melancholy slowly being replaced with elation as she told him everything she knew. How you could recognize the work of the Wildmother in the fires that ate whole forests and in the green buds that grew through the ashes.

Mollymauk saw how her own mannerisms were directly derived from the Wildmother in how she looked after the lesser. In her acceptance of horrible things in the world just as much as she believed in wonderful. He had already been so enchanted by the wild woman and it did not take much for him to fall for y/n.

The tiefling did not realize his blade had fallen to the ground, or that Caduceus had stood to embrace him. He did not realize he was crying until the tears soaked the neckline of his own tunic. “I did not mean to” He mutters uselessly, knowing there was no way to properly apologize for attacking the firbolg.

“Anger is natural in the wake of grief. You grieve for your friend who worshipped the Wildmother.”

And Molly wasn’t sure how he connected all the dots so easily. Like he had said it plain instead of the firbolg just picking up on small nuances of conversation. Caduceus was just so damn observant and there is no denying his words so he just nods lamely into the firbolgs chest.

“I think you should follow the Wildmother’s wishes. I have a funny feeling it will do you good.” His voice as gentle as the hand rubbing circles into Molly’s back while the tiefling hides his face in his chest.

“But we have to go south to the Gentleman. . .” He protests weakly.

“I am sure your friends will understand a short detour.” He sounded so sure of his own words, and Molly couldn’t help but believe in him as much as Caduceus believed himself.

#mollymauk #mollymauk critical role #cr mollymauk #mollymauk x reader #cr #cr2 #caleb #beau #wildmother #caduceus clay #fjord #jester #nott #m9 #the meighty nein #yasha #fix it fic #mollymauk fic #mollymauk fanfiction

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ren-c-leyn · 5 years

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Past, Present, Well Past Returning

Let’s try this again, without my keyboard slipping and posting it for me -_-

Time for... another fusion story! This time, I’m using these 1,2,3, amazing prompts from @thependragonwritersguild and these 1,2,3 incredible prompts by @givethispromptatry.

Warnings (mostly for people unfamiliar with my work): Just like many of my other shorts on here, this one contains fight scenes, character deaths, wounds, swearing, and is a generally angsty piece. Please tread with caution.

I could spend days staring out into the castle grounds, watching every move around. In fact I have. The last three days to be exact. Today was the last day, I decided. I knew the patterns well enough, I had seen and accounted for everything. It would work, it had to work. Tonight was the night I’d been waiting for since the last time I had been here.

I ran through a list of assurances, of my mentor’s mottos, of everything I could do. Not a single negative thought stayed in my mind for long. I had survived too much, gotten too strong, to fail. Everything was ready, waiting for me to reclaim what was mine. I just had to take it.

Sleep and rest made up the entire late afternoon til dusk. I prepared everything at dusk, watching the last wisps of sunlight fade from the sky like my innocence had all those years ago. A bitter smile pulled painfully onto my lips as I pulled the cloth mask over it.

My mentor once told me that assassins have no trade secrets. Their trade is the easiest to replicate. I found it funny coming from an assassin of their caliber. All of those years studying the way they moved so I could do it too. All of that time listening the way their voice flitted from male to female and leaped from accent to accent just to throw me off, just to ingrain them all in my own speaking. All of that time trying to learn their trade secrets, only to be told they never had any. If the situation wasn’t so dire, I might had laughed. But now was not the time.

I crept around the walls, all the way to the hidden escape passage, the same one I had left all those years ago. After making sure it still wasn’t watched, I preyed the ancient stones apart before slipping inside. The familiar scents of moss and old stone filtered through the dark cloth. Old memories spilled through my mind... but now wasn’t the time for them, either.

At the end of the passage, I stopped. I stopped thinking, stopped breathing, stopped everything and just listened. My ears waited for what felt like forever, searching for a telling sign of watchers. A scuff of a boot, a click of shifting armor, a cough or a sigh of a bored guard. When none came, I slowly pushed the door open to reveal an empty throne room. My heart twisted at the sight, but I forced myself to stay focused. The past had no place here right now.

I stepped into the room, and knew there was no turning back. Retracing familiar paths, I made my way to the study, where I knew he’d be. The stairways were silent, the doors all still, and everything perfect on my way there. Too perfect....

I paused outside of the grand double doors, something in my gut staying it was time to walk away. My heart burned, though, screaming that we had to. We had to open the doors and face him, or we never would. My mind understood both arguments presented to me. Now was the best time, when everyone was busy with the preparations for his wedding. It was possibly the only chance I’d ever get at this. On the other hand, it shouldn’t be this quiet, this silent. There should have been at least one servant, one guard, one witness.

I stood in a stalemate with myself, until the past seeped back in. The smell of blood, the stains slowly seeping through mother’s dress as she forced me through the hidden passage, the death cries of father echoing behind us. The rage bubbled up again, growling and snarling. The fear and anger of child me was what made the choice.

Before I could catch up with myself, one hand drawing cold steel while the other slammed down the door handle and threw it open. I didn’t fully comprehend what happened, not until the crossbow bolt had embedded itself into my shoulder and knocked me to the ground. The condescending laugh from my nightmares echoed around the halls and chambers, ringing in my echoes so loudly I wished for nothing more than to cut my fucking ears off.

“It’s been a long time, little one.”

“Screw you, brother,” I hissed as I drug myself up into a sitting position, glaring at him, ignoring the two guards.

Of course that pathetic coward would be the one with the crossbow. His men wore swords and held spear and shield, like the damn fine warriors I was sure they were.

“That’s no way to speak to your elder sibling.”

“I think it’s a fine way to address the fucking monster that murdered their own family for power.”

I slowly forced myself onto my feet, gritting my teeth and willing the throbbing, burning pain in my shoulder. Bastard probably poisoned the bolt. It would be his style.

“Oh really?” he replied in that smooth, oily voice, the one that made me want to rip his tongue out. “And I think this is a good way to deal with assassins and traitors.”

He snapped his fingers and the guards obediently raised their weapons and began their advance. I snarled my favorite curses and fled, sliding down railings and running as quickly as I could. More guards poured out of random rooms, forcing me to change directions so many times that I eventually started running blind.

I had had several escape routes planned beforehand, but I was far from them all now. I bolted through the kitchen, destroying platters of perfectly good food and knocking over one of the maids. From there they turned me down another hallway, where guards came rushing from the one that joined it. I had two seconds to decide, window or spears. Window it was. I leaped through it, feeling the unforgiving shards of ancient glass tear into me and snag the shaft of the bolt.

I screamed in agony as I slide down the one of the buttresses, barely able to get my battered body to cooperate with me long enough to land on my feet when I hit the shingles. Unfortunately, I had been going too fast and they slid out from under me, sending my flying onto the stable roof. Winded, exhausted, bleeding, and probably broken, there was nothing I wanted more than to just lay there. Unfortunately, the bowman had other ideas.

I rolled over to the side as a second arrow plunked onto the roof. I caught the edge and swung myself onto a pile of crates. They were more fragile than they looked, crumbling under me and nearly trapping me. It took precious moments to free myself, and by then I had no time to steal a horse. Footmen were racing up to me, and I had no choice but to flee.

I was herded up the stairs of the walls and chased like a rabid animal halfway around it before I found myself stuck between two groups of swordsmen, panting, bleeding, finished.... The river bubbled and murmured its condolences as one of them stepped up. I tried to parry, but my blade moved too slow. His sword slipped past without resistance and ran me through the gut. I saw more coming and my body reacted on instincts built from months of training.

I had ripped myself free of his blade and tumbled over the stones, off of the wall, and down into the river. I sunk into the water, blood drifting from the stab wound in my burning stomach. As my vision tunneled I saw something flash by. I found myself hoping that whatever it is ate me quickly. Or at least killed me first....

My body was ripped free from the water, limp. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see whatever monster my brother had unleashed to track me down. Instead of the tearing of teeth or slicing of claws, all I felt was a gentle prodding at my wounds. I reopened my eyes, barely able to make out a blurred silhouette. A man’s voice hovered just above me. He hissed like the autumn wind, murmured something about blood loss, and then, there was silent blackness.

When I woke up, everything hurt. I couldn’t feel anything but pain. My throat and nose burned, my stomach was swearing at me, my shoulder felt like someone had tried burning it off, and my muscles... I didn’t even want to remember they were attached.

“Alive? Awake? Good, I was afraid you’d starve if you stayed out any longer.”

I blinked and rolled my head over. Immediately, I wished I was fucking dead. He swished his tails around, the cat-like eyes watching me from beneath ragged black hair.

“From one monster to the next.... Which limb do you want?”

“I think if I was out to eat you, I would have done so already.”

“I’m not making deals.”

“Good, because neither am I.”

“... Then what do you want?”

He laughed so hard his leather wings opened slightly.

“It never fails, does it? If humans can’t kill it, manipulate it, or decimate it emotionally, they can’t seem to trust it. Even if it did pull you out of a river, patch up your wounds, and give you the antidote for the poison. Or, maybe, you’re ungrateful brat attitude is less to do with human and more to do with royal?”

I groaned.

“You sound like my mentor.”

“Because your mentor is my cousin.”

I tried to shoot up out of bed but found myself groaned and flopping back down.

“Fuck, what?”

“Yeah, my cousin. I’m half human.”

“Oh. I thought the voice changing and running up walls and other weird stuff was maybe... but I guess not.”

He snorted.

“I hear ya. I have no clue how anyone can do that shit and not break something, but that’s my cousin.”

“So, my mentor asked you to save me?”

“They mentioned you were up to something interesting.”

“So, you came to help?”

He laughed again.

“Nope.”

“Then... what the fuck were you doing there?”

He grinned.

“My goal.”

I stared at him, feeling even more dizzy than I had before.

“What?”

“My goal is to keep you alive for no other reason than because it seems pretty damn difficult. Just started and look at you. One stab wound, one bolt to the shoulder, tons of cuts, and don’t even get me started on how long it took to dig all of the glass out of your thin skin. This is going to be the best challenge I’ve had yet.”

He continued babbling about it, but I had retreated to the relative safety of my own mind, trying to figure out just what my mentor had gotten me into....

#My writing #short story #fiction #fantasy #angst #a story by Ren

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anistarrose · 5 years

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The Gingerbread Shacks (GF Holiday One-Shot)

Summary: Nothing ignites sibling rivalries like a challenge to replicate a tourist trap in gingerbread.

Word Count: ~1500

Warnings: none

(Disclaimer: I have not personally tried any of the baking-related things done by characters here, so if you attempt something like this at home, do not expect this fic to predict your results.)

“Grunkle Ford, what happened in here?” Dipper asked as he entered the kitchen. “Those dessert pixies didn’t come back again, did they?”

It was a valid question, seeing as nearly every flat surface within an eight-foot radius of Ford was covered in flecks of either frosting, powdered sugar, or both — not to mention Ford himself, whose hair had accumulated so much sugar that the stripe of lighter gray was indistinguishable from the rest.

“Nothing of the sort, don’t worry,” Ford replied cheerfully, his attention staying fixated on the object on the kitchen table as he slathered it with frosting from a Sasquatch-themed bowl. “I’m just making a gingerbread Mystery Shack. See?”

Dipper gave the structure a closer look as Ford pressed cutout gingerbread letters H, A, C, and K into the frosting, and then haphazardly tossed an S onto the tray below. It really was quite a good replica of the Mystery Shack, as long as you looked at it from the right angle to actually notice the boundaries between all the white-coated pieces.

“Is there even any gingerbread in there, or is it all just frosting?” Dipper asked.

“Well, that’s a funny story,” Ford began. “You might have inferred from the general state of this kitchen —” He gestured around, and a plume of powdered sugar escaped to the air from his sleeve. “— that I’ve had to make a few different batches. That’s because the first batch wasn’t stiff enough to hold the gingerbread pieces together at the angles I needed, so I had to increase the sugar content. First I tried to simply mix additional sugar into the frosting I already had, but that didn’t work as well as I’d hoped, so I had to make a new batch, but I knocked that bowl into the sink… you get the idea. It’s been an ordeal. And when I finally made a satisfactory batch, there was already frosting all over the gingerbread from my first attempt, so I decided to make one more bowl full just so I could cover the whole thing in frosting and have it be uniform.”

He pulled out a Jersey Devil-themed bowl, this one full of red, white, and green sprinkles, and declared: “Just one final touch left to include. Stand back!”

He swung the bowl towards the gingerbread Shack like he was going to throw it, stopping at the last moment as sprinkles rained onto the icing and leaving the Shack looking like a Christmas tree had exploded next to it. Then he repeated the procedure on all sides, and poured the leftover sprinkles onto the roof, grinning widely and happily as he gazed at his creation.

“Did you and Mabel swap minds or something?” Dipper asked incredulously. “What… what even prompted you to make this?”

“Well, Melody was talking about how she’d wanted to make a gingerbread Mystery Shack but ran out of time before the holiday,” Ford explained. “Then Stanley said that he could make one, and I expressed skepticism that he could — so now we’re competing to see who can make the better gingerbread Shack. He’s been working on his at the table in the living room, I believe.”

Ford paused for a moment, contemplative. “You know, I really hope he’s not making as much of a mess as I am,” he murmured, as if the thought was just occurring to him.

“Oh, you’re competing with Stan,” Dipper said. “That explains a lot.”

He heard the door to the porch slamming shut, and a moment later, Mabel, Soos, and Melody entered the kitchen, having apparently returned from their run to the grocery store to replenish dwindling hot chocolate supplies.

“Ooh, Grunkle Ford, are you done with your Shack?” Mabel gasped, leaving noticeable footprints on the sugar-coated floor as she rushed up to examine Ford’s creation. “I see you took some artistic liberties, but I like it! Very festive!”

“Artistic liberties are for amateurs who can’t pull off realism!” Stan barked from the other room. “I haven’t even seen Poindexter’s yet, and I know it’s gonna look like a tree threw up on it!”

“I recall you saying something very different about artistic liberties whenever your taxidermy work came up!” Ford shot back.

There was a pause, and then: “You get your smartass remarks in now, Ford, ‘cause once you lay eyes on this masterpiece you’re gonna have no choice but bow down to my mastery of the gingerbread craft! Ugh, my back is killing me —”

Stan staggered into the kitchen, carrying his gingerbread Shack on a blue plastic tray. As everyone moved to the sides of the room to let him get through, a few impressed gasps could be heard — even from Ford himself, though he’d naturally deny it later.

“So? Whaddya think?” Stan’s smug grin was growing wider by the second.

“Set them down next together, so we can judge them!” Soos told him.

Stan did as he was told, and placed down his creation next to Ford’s. While both Shacks had almost exactly the same dimensions, and had featured the letters HACK on a sign with the S down on the tray, the differences ended there. Ford’s was mostly devoid of further detail, but Stan’s had gumdrops and other candies lining almost every edge, and additional gingerbread pieces attached to form triangular windows. There was even a tiny question mark weathervane, though it was held together by toothpicks and the letters WHAT were replaced by gumdrops.

Soos stood between them and held up both his forearms perpendicular to the floor. “Let’s check the Gingerbread-O-Meter…”

On Ford’s side, he turned his arm about forty-five degrees, and then just a bit further extra as Mabel chanted “Go! Go! Go!” and Stan yelled “Hey!”

On Stan’s side, he turned his arm about the same amount in the opposite direction, and then a decent amount further as Dipper and Melody cheered. Ford scowled and raised his hands in exasperation as it became obvious who was in the lead.

“Looks like we have a winner, folks!” Soos declared. “Mr. Pines, you’re the first ever Annual Mystery Shack Gingerbread Bake-Off-A-Thon Extravapalooza Champion!”

“Haha!” Stan cheered. “Eat it, Ford! Except maybe don’t literally eat it, ‘cause —”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me!” Mabel piped up. “Gotta make sure it tastes as good as it looks!” With a surprising amount of effort, she yanked a piece of the roof off of Stan’s gingerbread Shack.

“No, Mabel, wait — please don’t —”

She popped it into her mouth, and her expression lit up as she chewed. “Grunkle Stan, that is fantastic! I can’t place all the favors, but I think you might just be a culinary genius as well as an artistic one!”

“Really?” Dipper said. “Let me try some.”

He took a bite from a piece that had fallen loose when Mabel removed hers, and immediately spat it out with so much force that it flew clear across the room and stuck to the wall. After running to the sink and rinsing his mouth, he finally choked out the words:

“Grunkle Stan, did you glue this together? That was nasty!”

Stan gave a slight shrug, arms folded and eyes pointed towards the ceiling. “Uh, maybe. Don’t worry, though, I only buy the nontoxic stuff.”

“Stanley, I trusted you,” Ford told him, voice dripping with the exaggerated drama of feigned betrayal. “And you go and disregard the rules of our competition entirely.”

“Hey, remind me when you said I couldn’t use glue? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t. See, no rules disregarded! I keep track of these things!”

“It was implicitly stated! We agreed to make gingerbread houses, and gingerbread houses are by definition meant to be edible —”

“Glue is edible, you just have to have an open mind!” Mabel chimed in. “Don’t let society’s ideas about food control you!”

Ford sighed. “You know what, let’s compromise. The two of us can split first place.”

“You guys are the only two who even participated,” Melody pointed out. “If you two tie, there’s no first place. That’s the only place.”

“Yes, but we don’t have to explain the details of the competition to everyone who learns that we’re the first ever Annual Mystery Shack Gingerbread Bake-Off-A-Thon Extravapalooza Co-Champions,” Ford replied. “It sounds rather impressive without context, doesn’t it?”

“Now you’re thinkin’, Sixer!” Stan threw his arm over his brother’s shoulders, and started chanting: “Pines! Pines! Pines!” Ford joined in too, raising a mug of hot chocolate in celebration.

Mabel handed Dipper a frosting-covered piece from Ford’s gingerbread Shack, and started munching on another piece from Stan’s.

“I thought you quit eating glue when you were ten,” Dipper said.

In between bites, she replied: “It was out of season for a while.”

“Out of season for three years? That’s not how seasons work!”

Mabel shrugged. “I dunno. Just don’t tell my orthodontist.”

***

Thanks for reading, comments/reblogs are really appreciated as always! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and to those who don’t, hope your day has been great!

#gravity falls #dipper pines #stanford pines #mabel pines #stanley pines #soos ramirez #melody #rosalia writes fic #TWO FICS IN ONE DAY IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

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evanismfic · 6 years

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half - agony. chapter one.

第一章 . BACOPA ( 假馬齒莧 )

summary: when you last set foot inside the palace seven years ago, your heart was shattered into a thousand pieces. now, after the dowager empress’s death, you find that you still cannot even dare to hope.

pairing: yanjun x f!reader

genre: historical, royals au

word count: 6855

a/n: please expect a lot of artistic license in terms of historical accuracy and medicine i am neither a doctor nor an expert on the song dynasty :’)

[ prev. ] | [ 2. ]

YOU HAD ALL THE MAKINGS of a rags-to-riches story.

Born a month and a day before the summer solstice, the town shaman told your father –– a man of science who made this augury his one exception –– that you would bring great change. As you grew older, her prediction became less and less likely. Your father once muttered that he should’ve known better than to put stock in “that hogwash.”

Your family was poor, relying on both your parents to make ends meet. Your mother died not long after you were born, leaving you in the care of your father. He was well-meaning but lacked the emotional competence to navigate raising a child, precocious as you were, alone. More instructional than nurturing, you grew to maturity spending half of your life helping him in his shop. Your father was confident that you would follow in his footsteps and become a healer. That was his anchor.

You spent the other half of your childhood frolicking by the stream on the outskirts of town. In those nearby woods dwelled the boy you loved. You first met him when you were but four years old, washing bloodied linens from an operation the day before. He peered at you from between the trees. When you first noticed him, he fled.

There are a great many places where your life would’ve been better had things just ended there. This was one of them.

But the boy came back a week later.

Bolder, he came to a stop beside you and asked what you were doing. Your father told you once never to speak to strangers. He also saw no problem, however, allowing a small child to travel all the way across town to do laundry, so you can somewhat blame him for your lack of prudence. You can still remember the boy –– “Yanjun,” he introduced himself, chest puffed outward in pride –– and his tone. Painfully posh, he didn’t hold a lick of the drawl you became accustomed to from your small town. He spoke like the people from the capital, and you were instantly entranced. You had never met a child from Lin’an before. You decided you liked Yanjun very much. If your father noticed that you stayed out longer to play with the boy by the river, he never commented on it. After all, he was just a child. It took you six years to find out who Yanjun really was.

Given that he only spent summers in the so-named palace –– a sprawling villa on the hill that overlooked your hometown –– you hadn’t really known him for all that long. For roughly three months of every year, the two of you (Yanjun, mostly) would get in as much trouble as you possibly could. From playing in the river to snatching low-hanging apples from a nearby (privately owned) orchard, the two of you were nearly inseparable. On the days where Yanjun didn’t come to play, you were miserable. And it wasn’t until your tenth year that you learned just why he was sometimes nowhere to be found.

It had been twenty-four days since you two last met before your father was summoned to the Summer Palace. He brought you along on a whim, not knowing how long he would be gone and reluctant to leave you in the care of your gossipy neighbors. He did not expect your gasp of recognition when you laid eyes on the frightfully pale Crown Prince lying in his bed. His younger brother Chaoze sat by his side and shook him awake. When your eyes met, you felt your stomach drop.

You had spent your summers for the past six years befriending the future Emperor. And his illness, a cold from too many hours spent in the stream, was your fault. Perhaps this was when his mother started to hate you.

You thought that compromising his health would have you forbidden from ever seeing him again, but he sought you out the moment he recovered. He told you that he never meant to lie to you –– and he didn’t, really, only by omission –– and that nothing had changed. “I hope we can still be friends,” Yanjun said, earnestly taking your hand.

But things had changed, although you couldn’t be sure if it was for better or for worse.

When puberty hit, things only got more confusing.

In your current opinion, at all of twenty-five years old, it’s when everything started to go downhill.

You always liked Yanjun. He was funny, smart, and cultured. He would tell you about Lin’an and, after you discovered his identity, he would relay funny anecdotes about his tutors and the goings on of the Imperial Court. As he got older and his voice deepened, he suddenly became more interesting to listen to. And while Yanjun had always been good looking, he was especially handsome when the baby fat left his face and granted him those killer cheekbones portraits still fail to replicate. In a year, you had begun staring at his plump lips more and more.

You didn’t miss the way he’d been looking at you too.

He first held your hand when you were thirteen, shyly brushing his thumb across your knuckles, and you pressed your lips to his cheek in return. He kissed you on the lips at fifteen, and you told him that you loved him the next year. At eighteen, his father died, and you held him in your arms as he cried. A week later, his mother declared that Yanjun needed to marry in order to inherit the throne, and he asked you to come back with him to Lin’an.

Saying yes was one of the worst decisions you ever made.

Somehow, you’re back here seven years later, staring at the palace gates as your luggage is wheeled in behind you. Your father had succumbed to cancer just as spring began to wane into summer, so you have nothing keeping you in Changqi. Not long after his death, you received a letter with the imperial seal requesting that you take on the now vacant role of the royal doctor, as well as requesting that you work on a cure for one of the nation’s deadliest plagues. Imperial patronage was a stunning offer few could even dare to deny. But you still have to wonder why you would return when you had tried so hard to run away after a short five months within the palace walls.

The answer is rather simple: because Yanjun asked you to.

On a broader scale, it was easier to provide excuses. No one in their right mind refuses the Emperor. There is a vacancy in the staff. The Court is in need of a healer, and you earned yourself quite the reputation for your innovative herbal remedies. Only the best of the best can serve the Emperor, and you more than enough deserve that title. It has nothing to do with the fact that Yanjun once loved you and that you loved him just as much.

That time is long gone, and nothing displays that more than how much the palace has changed since you left it.

It’s certainly livelier, more colorful than it was when you departed. Having come when it was in a period of mourning, though, that is to be expected. Observing servants as they move pots and crates around, you presume Yanjun is doing a bit of remodeling as well. It’s a bold choice for an emperor whose nation is currently at war.

“There’s no view quite as magnificent is there?” Honglin, the page sent to fetch and safely deliver you to the palace, hands the reigns of his steed over to a stable boy. The fortnight of travel didn’t afford you an extraordinarily close friendship with the young man, but he was currently the only friend you had in Lin’an. You know that he is mixed, his father being a Jurchen defector and his mother a Han woman. Honglin is incredibly proud of his heritage, bearing a zealousness you find endearing. That’s about all that you know about him. “I came here with my father when I was seven and I’m still in awe every time I return.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you have very few memories of the palace to look fondly upon. You smile instead. “Indeed. It’s a testament to our great nation.”

Honglin seems pleased by your response. He gestures toward the Western Wing, which houses most of the residences of the staff. You’re surprised that your brain has retained that information, considering how you tried to forget everything that you could. “I’ll direct you to your rooms, let you get settled in before I bring you to meet His Majesty. Would you like me to do anything with your supplies?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head and following Honglin as he starts down the palace’s winding halls. “Just leave them in their crates in the infirmary. I’ll organize them myself tomorrow.”

“As you wish.”

Honglin deposits you in front of a bedchamber only marginally smaller than the one from nearly a decade ago. How interesting it is that the quarters of the presumed future empress were roughly the same size as the royal healer’s –– or, rather, how interesting it was that the Dowager Empress thought to give her successor such lackluster accommodations. Both rooms are just as lifeless and empty. Only a desk, a table with which you could receive visitors and dine, a bed, and one of the trunks containing your clothing served as furnishing. They couldn’t even afford you a wardrobe. Honglin chirps that he’ll be around and that you only need to holler for him to come running. He leaves you to decompress, and you collapse on your bed the moment he shuts the doors behind him.

You don’t plan to lay there longer than twenty minutes, but you’re exhausted. You know that coming to Lin’an was for a good cause. Aside from the honor of being the royal family’s sole physician, imperial support allowed your research to flourish. The royal summons didn’t mention how much of it Yanjun was willing to finance, only that he would give as much as it took to eradicate tianxing illness. You also knew that anything was better than your lack of funds back at home.

You wonder if the ladies of the court are still here. At least one of your tormentors is gone. Though you feel terrible for being relieved that the Dowager Empress is dead, you still find yourself consoled by the fact that you don’t have to deal with her. You’re terrible, and you have to force yourself to fight the instinct. Horrible to you she might have been, she was still Yanjun’s mother and is apparently the current reason you are employed by the court. Your hopes that the volatile atmosphere of the palace had vanished were dashed by the rumor that your predecessor killed himself for failing to cure the Dowager Empress of her ailment. Is Yanjun really that foul-tempered now? Perhaps this is what his mother was trying to save you from.

“This is no place for a commoner,” she had said when Yanjun first announced his intention to take you to wife. You wanted to protest at first. You loved Yanjun and Yanjun loved you –– surely such a fairytale romance would triumph over all else, wouldn’t it? You weren’t in control of the circumstances of your birth. It wasn’t like you chose to be born beneath Yanjun’s station. You were naïve to think that the strength of your character would prove you worthy of the role of empress, particularly because you weren’t as strong as you thought.

You could stand ridicule from one person. Yanjun, young and headstrong, had a rebellious streak that reinforced his insistence that you disregard his mother’s protests, that you two were soulmates and nothing could come between that. However, you weren’t prepared for the near-ubiquitous vitriol and abuse sent your way. You expected jealousy. You weren’t a fool. The Crown Prince was going to be sought after no matter who he was. To marry the future emperor was the easiest way to secure one’s future. In some respects, you could understand the utter incredulity that a random girl from the country managed to snatch Yanjun away from the noblewomen who knew him all their lives. That didn’t justify their cruel words, though. Of how you didn’t belong, of how Yanjun deserved someone of higher status who wouldn’t pollute the royal bloodline. Of how he was making a terrible mistake by choosing you and how he would come to regret this decision for the rest of his life. Of how you would be an unfit mother to his children, passing on both stupidity and inferiority to his heirs.

You thought yourself a strong girl. But there was only so much even the strongest could take.

At least now, you’re not a threat. You don’t mean anything to Yanjun anymore. They have no reason to snap at you, broad as his harem is.

You spend so long in your miserable reminiscence that you don’t realize how much time has passed. Honglin has to knock on your door and snap you out of your self-pity. “Just a moment!” you shout, scrambling to your trunk and throwing on your nicest gown. You comb your hair as quickly as you can and hope that minimal makeup will be enough. Honglin smiles and tells you that you look nice when you open the door. You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow when he offers his arm, taking a deep breath.

Chuckling, Honglin begins to guide you toward the Great Hall. “You don’t need to look so nervous,” he tells you, patting your hand gently. “His Majesty isn’t going to rip your head off for being late. His meeting with the Ministers of Defense ran a little long, so I doubt he’s noticed anyway. Between them and the men of the Inner Court, I’d be surprised if he actually gets a word in beyond granting or denying their absurd requests.”

“Is he really so busy?”

“Oh, of course. The nation is on the brink of war at all times, miss, no matter what harebrained but effective schemes General Cai has up his sleeve. Invasion is a constant possibility. The Jurchens simply refuse to let up.”

You pretend to know what he’s talking about. “Right.”

“Well, whatever the case, I’m glad we have Yanjun leading us. With him, I feel as though victory is just around the corner.”

“I see,” you murmur. You hadn’t thought much of public opinion on the current administration. Politics were less your forte. You simply followed your moral compass, bureaucracy be damned. Honglin might be a little biased, but you still find yourself fascinated by the open admiration in his tone. It seems Yanjun is the great leader you always thought he’d be, bringing to life the praise you’d whisper to him late at night as he laid his head in your lap and voiced his doubts. “You think very highly of him.”

“He deserves it.” Those three words settle the matter.

After what seems like an eternity navigating the palace’s endless corridors, Honglin stops in front of the large crimson doors of the Great Hall. Covered in gold decorations, it’s even more ornate than you remember. The phoenixes and floral imagery are new, somewhat clashing with the preexisting spiraling dragons and flamboyant clouds. Somehow, though, the doors seem smaller than you remember them last. Perhaps you’re no longer as intimidated by them and the secrets they hold. You know what type of vipers dwell within. There’s only the one on the dais that you’re still apprehensive of. There is still the slight chance that Yanjun is still as harmless as a garter snake. In your infinite maturity, though, you know better than to hope.

“Are you ready?” Honglin asks. You don’t give yourself room to hesitate. At your nod, he smiles encouragingly and pushes the great doors open. Voice booming, he calls out your presence. “This humble servant presents the new imperial healer to His Majesty the Emperor, Son of Heaven and Ruler of the Earth, He of Ten Thousand Years.” Bent at the waist, he shuffles forward. You follow him, head bowed and hands folded in your sleeves.

Yanjun says your name when he tells you to rise. As you obey, you force yourself to suppress a shudder. If even such a short vocalization can send shivers down your spine, you can’t imagine what a full sentence will be like. “Look at us,” Yanjun says. A rustle of silk indicates he beckoned you with a finger. You raise your head to fully look at Yanjun –– Emperor Qiànzо̄ng, you remind yourself –– for the first time in seven years.

He’s just as beautiful as he was back then. No longer boyish, he’s replaced that youthful charm with a regal and dignified demeanor. His hair is longer and spills over his shoulders, flesh paler presumably from years indoors. He waves at you almost teasingly, fingers still slim and pretty. It’s a wonder he can still move with the heaps of fabric atop him. He’s always been scrawny, but you see that he’s filled out his robes. The rich silks are adorned with golden embroidery depicting his family crest, the Phoenix –– so, it was his addition to the doors after all –– along with, you notice on his sleeves, tangerine and citrus trees. To reflect the flourishing growth brought about by his reign, you suppose. He truly is an emperor now.

“It’s good to have you back,” Yanjun says. For all the refinement in his dress, he still slouches a little, shoulders raised as he cants a hip to the side –– the way he used to when the two of you were still kids. He’s twenty-five now. Handsome as ever. Voice still rich and soft and tender when addressing you. One would think that his father-in-law isn’t standing less than a foot from him. For all your avoidance of all things imperial, you can remember the beady eyes of Lady Pingting’s father easily. The emperor’s Right Hand eyes you with obvious distaste, sleeve already raised to his mouth as if he is mere seconds away from whispering disparaging comments about you into Yanjun’s ear. You have no doubt that he will as soon as you are out of sight. Seven years have brought very little change to Lin’an.

In the wake of your silence, the emperor looks at you expectantly. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t the little boy who used to fish your ribbons out of the river for you, who would stand on his tiptoes to pick the ripest fruits to share. You doubt he is still the same man that you loved. He is a man of power, now. He is atop the world’s finest nation. He is expected to lead it in war, to reclaim the lost North. “This humble servant thanks the crown,” you tell him, lowering yourself to your knees. Gripping the insides of your sleeves so tightly you dig crescents into the fabric, you bow once more and press your forehead into the velvet carpet so hard you think it may leave marks. “It is an honor to serve the great Dragon Emperor.” When you dare to meet Yanjun’s eyes, his mouth is drawn into a tight line. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say.

For a long, tense minute, neither of you speak. Honglin looks nervous on your behalf

Yanjun’s gaze switches to something akin to… disappointment. Something else you can’t name flutters in your stomach. You’ve felt it before when looking at him, you just refuse to acknowledge it as affection. You like Yanjun. But you don’t love him anymore. You can’t. So, while you can care and fret over why he seems disappointed in you, you are not allowed to bend over backward to try and please him. That’s not your job anymore, assuming it ever was.

The emperor clears his throat, snapping you back into reality. “How do you feel, coming back to the capital after all this time?” He pauses. “We’re sure you must’ve had some reservations, clean and… succinct as your parting was.”

If you were more naïve, you might dare to presume that there’s a hint of regret in his tone. Yanjun as a prince was sentimental. Soft. As an emperor, he is not allowed to have such unnecessary inclinations. And you, though not quite the commoner girl you once were, are still light years beneath him. You are a healer, not the daughter of a nobleman or a foreign princess or his empress. You have a place –– one that is not with him. “Not at all,” you say, feigning ignorance to the way he leans forward in interest. “Whatever my previous feelings for the palace were, I have grown in the past seven years. And I would be foolish to disregard a royal summons. I thank Your Majesty for your generous offer. I know that with imperial support, I will be able to complete my research and create a better standard of living for our people. Improving the health of our citizens is my greatest priority and I am grateful that Your Majesty has deigned to allot such a great sum to such a wonderful cause.”

You’re suddenly made aware of the dozens of pairs of eyes on you. Though the throne beside Yanjun is empty, his many advisors are all around him, among other members of his staff like scribes and entertainers. To say nothing, as well, of the diplomats and bureaucrats from afar. How many of them know who you are and what you once meant to him? How many are willing to use that and this lackluster reception against you?

Yanjun blinks. “We… see.” He opens his mouth to speak further, but his Right Hand cuts him off as the old man lunges forward to whisper in his ear. Nodding, Yanjun waves him back with an arm. “We are terribly sorry to curtail this… long-awaited reunion, but we have some business to take care of.” Glancing at Honglin, Yanjun dips his head. “If you would be so kind as to escort the lady healer back to her quarters. General Zhu and his retinue will be here shortly.”

And just like that, you are dismissed and his attention is elsewhere. You and Honglin bow before you depart, but Yanjun hardly seems to notice as he unfurls a scroll in his lap and listens to the rambling of his ministers. It’s probably for the best.

When the doors of the Great Hall shut behind him completely, Honglin throws you a smile. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it? He’s still fond of you!” It seems he does remember you were betrothed to the emperor. Prior to this, he hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort. Maybe his memory was jogged by Yanjun’s words. Regardless, you appreciate the attempt at levity. “I told you he’s a good man. You had nothing to be worried about.”

He’s right, in a way. You didn’t know why you were so worked up over a conversation that took less than ten minutes. What were you expecting? For Yanjun to beg you to love him again, for him to confront you over breaking his heart? Clearly, it wasn’t very broken in the first place, considering the fact that he married Pingting not long after you left and gained a reputation of being something of a womanizer. Not that anyone would ever accuse an emperor of debauchery to his face.

“Would you like to go back to your room, or are there other matters you would like to take care of?”

“Actually,” you say, “do you mind taking me to the infirmary? I think I’d like to begin unpacking.” It’d take your mind off of things, at the very least. And you’d like to get your practice off the ground as soon as possible. Momentarily forgetting about Yanjun is just a bonus.

Honglin eyes your robes with an arched brow, but when you look at him expectantly, he shrugs and grins. “As you wish. Follow me!”

By the time you’re finished with unpacking most of your surgical equipment and organizing your anesthetics, you are sweaty, your hair has come undone, and your arms are sore. Just thinking about having to put away everything else has you sighing in exhaustion. You’re only about halfway done, and remembering that you still have to take inventory of all of your herbs makes you want to quit even before you’ve started, but you grit your teeth and decide to have everything finished by the next evening. The sun has long since set, and the palace has fallen into relative silence. Having removed your shirt jacket for ease of movement, you have to slink back to your rooms with it draped over your shoulders, hoping no one sees you in a state of moderate undress. You breathe a sigh of relief as you successfully make it back to your room without being spotted. Only to scream –– thankfully short and quiet enough not to cause a large commotion –– when you see the scene laid out before you, of course.

Lin Yanjun and an extravagant dinner are at your table, and he looks moderately amused by the sight of your surprise and messy attire. His mother ambushed you similarly seven years ago, but you were wearing more clothes then. You doubt he is aware of how much he takes after her. “Sit,” Yanjun says, sounding more like he’s suggesting rather than ordering. “I wanted to speak with you in a less ostentatious setting.”

And the candles, golden cutlery, and huge roast duck definitely serve to create a more minimalist, humble atmosphere.

Biting back the quip, you do as he says and take a seat across from him. When you dined with his mother (whom you can see in him so clearly with the way the shadows dance across his face), you were expecting an apology. She did a good job of maintaining the impression of civil conversation, though its content was anything but civil.

Without a hint of aggression, she told you, “You must know that you are no good for him.”

You tried to protest, only to get plowed over.

“Look at it this way,” the Dowager Empress had said. You still remember her words and the way her hair decorations clacked as she moved clear as day. “You are doing my son no favors. You may operate under the idealistic belief that true love will conquer all, but I must remind you, young one, that Yanjun will become the leader of a country in the real world. A country at war, constantly being attacked by our enemies to the north. He will reclaim the North and drive the Jurchens out once and for all. What he needs is someone who will provide him with the most aid in his endeavors. What could you possibly offer him that he could not find elsewhere?”

At the time, you weren’t able to speak, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You never needed to challenge such a great authority before. The Dowager Empress took advantage of that.

“Money? Connections? Are you a tactician of any sort?” You had no response. She was right. Yanjun was meant for greater things. And while you thought you’d be with him every step of the way, you knew that it wasn’t practical for him. Lady Yun, whose father was the second largest landowner in the entire country, or perhaps Lady Likun, whose father and brother were prominent figures in the military and who was a capable strategist in her own right, were better matches. He ended up choosing Lady Pingting, the daughter of a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Defense, so Yanjun evidently took his mother’s wishes to heart. What did you have to offer him besides your love? “You are a commoner, my girl. He will be an emperor. Surely you see something wrong with this picture, yes? You may believe that the two of you are in love, but that is only because you don’t know any better. The universe has an order and it will always right itself. This is a lesson you would do well to learn now.

“This is what is going to happen,” said the Dowager Empress then, so sure that she could tell the future. “You are going to tell Yanjun that you no longer wish to marry him. You will then pack your meager belongings and return to Changqi. You will remember your place, and you will never speak of or to him again.”

As it turned out, the old bitch was a prophet.

Except here you are, sitting in front of Yanjun as he places a leg of duck in your bowl. It’s something a husband would do. Is this the universe righting itself? No, it can’t be. You remain frozen, hands in your lap. “Why?” You thought you could do this. That you could speak to him again without wanting to flee. It should be easier without all those eyes on you, but it isn’t.

“Is it wrong of me to wish to speak to an old friend?” He arches a brow and smiles at you. It isn’t pleasant. He looks every bit like the shark his mother was when she last spoke to you. He looks like he’s just waiting for you to spill blood so he can strike. “We are still friends, are we not?”

You don’t respond. The question hangs awkwardly in the air as you turn instead to eat. Perhaps it’s petty of you, but you’ve learned to pick and choose your battles. Professing any affection for him would do you no good, especially when taking into consideration the people who could hear you but who you couldn’t see. “And I suppose you thought you were doing me favors by coming to my quarters?” He blinks in surprise as you speak after sipping some broth. It’s remarkably easier to speak to Yanjun when you think of his mother at the same time, of how he’s no longer the lovesick boy that you knew –– of how he might not have your best interests at heart anymore. “There are eyes and ears around the palace and you thought that coming to my bedchambers alone was the best course of action. I see.”

Yanjun laughs then, releasing a rather cavalier scoff. “My apologies, I didn’t think ––”

“Clearly.”

His chuckle cuts off abruptly. “I was hoping we could be civil.” Clearing his throat, Yanjun returns to his meal. Each movement –– even to raise his chopsticks to his mouth –– is practiced and sharp. Though it is only dinner, and a private one at that, Yanjun still can’t relax. You feel a little bad for snapping at him. The last seven years probably haven’t been very good to him. He had to have been forced to grow a thicker skin. Scales, if you will. The bags under his eyes say as much, anyway.

The two of you eat in silence, as you don’t dare to speak lest he turn your cold attitude against you. You had often imagined what it would be like to share meals as husband and wife. What it might be like to sit beside him in the grand hall, reaching over to add some vegetables to his rice and as he ladles you soup. How domestic it might have been. How useless these fantasies were. The Dowager Empress was right. At the time, you were a frivolous, naïve girl in love with the idea of love. Now, you are not. You’ve grown, and you’ve grown beyond him. The two of you were better off without each other. This isn’t you finding your way back to each other, or whatever drivel your eighteen year-old self would’ve come up with.

This is not the universe correcting its course.

But still, you have to wonder.

“Why me?”

The two words startle Yanjun out of his apparently length and intense internal monologue. From the harsh way he was staring at the plates in front of him, you thought he was trying to consume them with sheer willpower and ocular strength alone. He looks up at you and raises a brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Out of all the doctors in the Middle Empire, out of every physician, every healer, every master of the art of medicine, why did you choose to extend this position to me?” There are plenty of people more famous than you, renowned across the nation for their prowess and advancement in the field. While you had garnered a bit of popularity (and something of an ego) for your improvements of herbal medicine, you still had doubts that these accomplishments alone warranted your sudden and enormous rise in status. “I highly doubt it’s because we are friends. If you’ll forgive me for the rudeness of the accusation, I believe you may have some ulterior motives.”

It isn’t something you would have suggested of him before. At least, not out loud. Yanjun was shrewd and playful, but such an important position, one that held the entire palace’s health in its hands, was not one to be taken so lightly. Nepotism had no place when life and death were involved, and you always thought that he knew better than to place personal preference over effectiveness. But you hardly know him anymore. So much of him is physically familiar. The details, however, are too dissimilar not to notice.

His relative reticence, the almost sleepy way he blinks, head occasionally dropping and his chin staying tucked against his clavicle as if he doesn’t want to lift it back up. The calluses on his fingers from hours of holding a brush. The wry curl of his lips resembling something like guilt. Like you’ve sniffed him out. The light dusting of pink across his cheeks, either from the wine he’s been indulging in intermittently throughout the night or embarrassment. Surprise, given that you never thought to challenge him like this before.

So, you were right. He was hiding something. Maybe you know him better than you think.

“That is a rather abrasive way to phrase your concerns,” Yanjun says mildly, “but I will forgive you for your tone.” He folds his hands in his lap. “The simple truth is that I needed someone I could trust implicitly. Although I had my doubts that you would be able to hold up under the pressure, there are very few people I trust to make sure that my family and friends and allies are healthy.”

You swallow roughly. The pressure. Right. When you told him you no longer wished to marry him, you cited pressure as the deciding factor in your departure. Of course, he’d remember.

“Nevertheless, you are correct. I owe you the truth. I am well aware of what was written on the summons. None of it is particularly untrue. I fully expect you to conduct research to combat the tianxing plague in Guilin. But that isn’t all I wanted to ask of you. I suppose that, upon reflection, my apprehensions no longer seem very reasonable. And, as such, I no longer see the point in hiding anything from you. Are you aware of what happened to your predecessor?”

“Only that he leapt into a river not long after your mother’s death.” You decide to keep your conspiracy theories to yourself.

“You were not informed of why?”

You shake your head. You wish he would just get to the point, though he’s had a history of being superfluous in his storytelling.

“The official narrative we passed along to the palace staff is that he feared punishment for failing me because he was unable to prevent my mother’s death. She had an ailment of the liver and suffered a painful death. It would not be surprising to hear that he feared retribution from the crown.” Would it? You didn’t think he was that kind of man. But people change. Yanjun leans in and your traitorous heartbeat quickens. If he notices the way your breath catches in your threat, he doesn’t say anything.

“Only three ministers, the Empress, myself, and now you know the truth. The Crown Prince’s health has been deteriorating for the past month. While it seemed the doctor had been making some headway, he took his life two weeks into my son’s illness. I can only presume this was because he reached an unfavorable prognosis. But rather than do anything he could to save a seven year-old boy’s life, he took the coward’s way out.” Yanjun clenches his fists. You fight the urge to reach over and take his hand.

What little surprise you felt at learning that he was a father quickly faded and was replaced by sympathy. You had no children to call your own, disgraced to spinsterhood after the dissolution of your engagement. You had no idea what he must feel to watch his son in pain, to watch the boy die. You could scarcely fathom it. It puts the exhaustion in his visage into perspective. Your heart aches for him.

But you still aren’t very happy with him. “Why… why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” For someone who claimed to trust you enough to put his family’s life in your hands, the fact that he decided to withhold this information from you didn’t support his assertion whatsoever.

“I couldn’t risk your summons being intercepted. If the news that the heir to the Empire was dying fell into the wrong hands, I feared the worst. Morale dropping in the midst of a war we are losing is the mildest of consequences.” He clenches his jaw and avoids your gaze. “Worse yet, the Jurchens may send someone to finish the job. We are aware that they have spies within the palace. We just don’t know who they are.”

“That sounds like a bunch of excuses. Valid ones, yes, but not the truth. Yanjun, if you want me to do the best that I can, you have to trust me.” Not all of him is entirely unfamiliar –– the way his voice wavers and the way he refuses to look you in the eye are little dishonest quirks you recall from his childhood. Your fingers twitch and his flex in return. You’re both too stubborn to reach over and complete the movement. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Licking his lips, Yanjun drops his head. He reaches up to rub his jaw. He used to do that when he got in trouble and his steward was about to wring a confession out of him. “I was afraid. And foolish. I thought that you still loved me. That you would refuse to treat a child that you thought could’ve and should’ve been yours. For that, I apologize. I should not have let my assessment of you be clouded by fanciful sentiment.”

Can you resent him for his line of reasoning? Part of you wished that he thought you still loved him, but that notion was supposed to work in conjunction with the idea that he still loved you too. That part of you, the smallest bit of romanticism remaining within you, was wrong. He thought you still loved him, and he used that to think the worst of you. You are not afraid to admit that it hurts –– both on your behalf and his. What happened to Yanjun to make him this cold? Was it… was it you who made him this way?

“Oh, Yanjun.” Your words are pitying. You can tell by the way his shoulders tense that it irritates him. “If you had just asked, I still would have come.”

A chill creeps down your spine as Yanjun stands and meets your eyes. You’ve never seen him like this before. Aloof, icy. His eyes are hard as stone. It’s difficult to categorize him, and he always seems to be shifting. For much of your dinner, Yanjun was nowhere near as cold. Just because he wasn’t talking didn’t mean that he was trying to freeze you out or scare you. But now, you can’t be sure. When you look up at him, you can’t help but remember the way he used to look at you. He gazed at you with such warmth, like you were the sun and stars and everything in the universe –– a sentiment that you shared toward him.

Now, none of that remains. Yanjun looks at you, and there is… nothing there. Negativity, resentment, and bitterness, perhaps. Though you don’t want it to be so, there is no longer anything warm and loving when he beholds you. There is only dislike. He speaks deliberately, mouth forming his words with self-assurance. You can’t construe his tone as anything but loathing. “I couldn’t have known that.”

#lin yanjun #nine percent scenarios #idol producer scenarios #lin yanjun x reader #yanjun scenarios #after like ??? a moNTH??#IT'S HERE

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pb1138 · 7 years

Text

Jealousy

So, it’s almost 11pm at night. I still have to pack a week’s worth of shit to go home tomorrow. I have to study vital information for my job and read a contract for a new job. I have to clean my room. I have to finish some work. And I have to get to bed by at least 1 because I have work at 9.

SO HEY LET’S WRITE SOME FANFICTIONS THAT LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED FOR!!! :D

Summary: Quark grabs something he shouldn’t and Data gets very jealous.

Warnings: Minor unwanted groping, a bit of possessiveness, but otherwise not a whole lot.

The Enterprise arrived at Deep Space 9 at 0930 hours. Most of the crew had elected to go to Bajor to spend some shore leave in the sunshine, but most of the bridge crew and some lower officers, including yourself, decided to stay and explore/study the ex-Cardassian station.

Picard had arranged for nearly two weeks of shore leave since it had been nearly four months since their last chance to take a breather. Everyone, even Data, had begun to get irritable, tired, antsy, you name it. It was surprising that you managed to feel relieved as you stepped onto the station. You had expected it to be little different than stepping from one endless hallway on the Enterprise to another. But, whether it was because of the array of people, the cheers of “DABO!” echoing all the way down to the docking bay, or even just the way the air smelled just the tiniest smidge more like Andorian cuisine, the second you had through the doors you felt a giant weight come off your shoulders, as though the last four months were only three and a half. Mostly, you were excited to see O’Brian. He had been your tutor on board the Enterprise, and a very dear friend. It had been about two years since he and Keiko transferred to DS9 and you hadn’t seen him since then.

Data took your hand in his as he came up behind you. He gave you a genuine smile that you happily returned, and the two of you headed towards the Promenade. As you two stepped over the bulkhead, you heard the screeching of Lwaxana Troi shouting, “Odo!” You could just barely see the brightly clad woman nearly sprinting across the Promenade after a man with a halfway-defined face who was trying to inconspicuously run the other way. Deanna and Will stood off to the side, laughing to themselves. Lwaxana had been talking about practically nothing but the station’s chief of security for the three weeks she was aboard the Enterprise, much to Picard’s relief.

Data quickly became the object of attention, with several alien scientists converging on him, asking him a trillion questions about his processing speeds, his aging processes, his positronic matrix. He started being physically pushed away from you and you just laughed, waving him on. “Go ahead, I’m going to go find O’Brian.” He tried to stammer something out, but waved it off with a sigh and turned his attention to his adoring fans.

You watched him go with a smile before you felt a shoulder bump intentionally into yours. You looked over and saw O’Brian there, smiling widely at you. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

You laughed and clapped your hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Chief, you have absolutely no idea.”

He chuckled, taking your arm in his, and he started guiding you to what looked like a bar. “Come, let’s have a drink and catch up a bit. You can tell me all about how my ship is holding up.”

The two of you sat at the bar for what felt like minutes (but, judging by the soreness of your butt, was really two or three hours) before O’Brian’s combadge chirped and someone asked him to take a look at a personal replicator which would only produce stale gagh. You said your goodbyes and he left you with a hug, promising to see you again tomorrow.

You turned your back to the bar, leaning your elbows on it and you watched the gambling tables with latent interest. After a while, the Ferengi barkeep approached, wringing his hands nervously. “Um, I’m afraid you two will have to order something else or my brother will—”

He couldn’t finish his idea before another Ferengi, this one not wearing the traditional Ferengi headdress and who was wearing a surprisingly nice suit, swatted him away. “I am so sorry for Rom. He’s an idiot, but he’s family. My name is Quark. Is there something I can get you? A Cardassian Sunrise? Some Dabo chips? Some…time in the holosuite, perhaps?”

You smiled at him, not noticing how the simple action seemed to make him do a double take. “You know, I would love a Romulan Ale. But, considering that it’s illegal, I’ll settle for Bloodwine, neat.”

He nodded and slipped behind the bar. “So, what brings you to DS9?”

You turned to face him, putting your chin in your hand. “Shore leave.”

“Hell of a place for shore leave. Here you go, one ‘Bloodwine.’”

You quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him as you looked down at your clearly-not-red drink. “Why, thank you.” You took a sip and sighed in relaxation. “This is some good ‘Bloodwine.’”

“Only the best for my esteemed customers.” He took to wiping out a raktajino mug, eyeing you up and down. “What ship are you based out of? Obviously Starfleet. You sure seemed to know the Chief, too. If I had to guess, I’d say…Enterprise?”

You nodded to him, taking another sip of your Romulan Ale. “You got it. First shore leave in four months.”

He let out a whistle, learning against his side of the bar. “That’s rough. A pretty thing like you deserves to be in the sun, not cooped up in some boring old starship.”

You raised your eyebrows at him and finished your ale in a quick move. You decided to let the sexism go. Ferengis weren’t known for their political correctness or their appropriate behavior around women. You tapped on the glass and put it back on the bar. “Well, without O’Brian, it’s just me and Geordi who can keep the thing in the air. Er, you know what I mean.”

He refilled your glass, slowly, you suppose so he could stare at your breasts. You kind of regretted your dress, at least the strapless-ness of it. It was floor length, grey with thin white stripes, and the bust was too short for your breasts. But, the bust was tight enough that you didn’t need a bra, and damn if your cleavage didn’t look good. You almost couldn’t be offended that he wanted to stare. You snapped at him, pointing up to your face. “Up here, buddy. Eyes off the merchandise.”

He cleared his throat and stood up, passing you a refilled glass. “So this Geordi guy. He your boyfriend?”

You scoffed. “No. We tried it once. It was terrible. Like, the worst.”

He grew a devious smile and scooted around to sit by you, bringing the bottle of Ale with him and another glass. “You don’t say.”

You subconsciously scooted about halfway off of your stool, away from him. You shrugged, shooting back the glass in one go and passed it to him to refill. “Eh. It was a long time ago.”

You weren’t looking at him, but if you had, you would have seen how his arm didn’t return to his side after he passed your drink back. Instead, it went straight to your ass, which he promptly gave a squeeze. You let out a squeal and jumped to your feet, bumping back into something hard. You turned to look and saw Data and sighed in relief. “Oh, Data. It’s you.”

Data moved around you and partially shielded you from Quark. You saw the Ferengi stumble over his stool, eyes wide as he took in the android. “Hey, look pal, there’s just been some kind of misunderstanding here.”

Data let out a noise that sounded sort of like a growl before he grabbed the Ferengi’s chest and drew the shorter man up off the floor. It was kind of funny to see his legs kicking in the air. “You have inappropriately placed your hands upon my girlfriend. I suggest you begin explaining how there was a ‘misunderstanding.’”

The Ferengi stammered for words, clawing at Data’s hand.

You gently touched Data’s other arm, wrapping yours around it. “Data, honey, it’s not worth it.”

Data looked at you and the anger in his expression instantly faded away. He turned back to Quark and put him down, a little roughly. “Let this be a lesson to you. It is never appropriate to touch somebody without their permission.” He glowered down at Quark. “No matter what you are misconceiving. Without spoken, sober consent, you are committing assault.”

Quark nodded, raising his hands in defense. “I hear you, I hear you. I’ll never touch a woman again.”

Data nodded, and almost turned to leave before he turned back. “And, apologize to the lady.”

Quark started spewing out the fastest, most afraid apology you had ever heard. You held up your hand to him to shut him up, reached across and grabbed the glass of ale, and knocked it back. “Just put these drinks on the house and I’ll let it slide.”

The Ferengi started to protest, no doubt because Romulan Ale is difficult to smuggle in, but thought better of it when he saw Data’s quirked brow. “Of course, yes, please, take the bottle.”

You beamed at him, accepting it from him wordlessly before you turned to leave, tugging on Data’s arm. “Come on, Data. I want to go watch the wormhole.”

The two of you sat on the railing above the Promenade, watching the wormhole open and close with ships coming and going. You looked over at Data, inebriation starting to take hold of your mind. You scooted closer to him and took his hand in yours. “Thank you, Data.”

He turned to you and quirked his brow. “For what?”

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder, entwining your fingers in his. “For coming to my rescue. It was a little much, but I still appreciate it.”

He chuckled slightly, leaning his head on top of yours. “I believe I was feeling a new emotion.”

“Oh?” you said, looking up at him.

“Yes. It was a most unusual sensation. I saw you two sitting there and I was happy to see you. And then I observed that you were sitting 13.54 centimeters off of the edge of your stool away from him and I grew concerned. And then, when his hand began to move, I was overcome with such…anger, but not like anger I have ever experienced before. It was…overwhelming. But there was also an element of being insulted, and an element of protection, and also an element of fear and—”

You cut him off by putting your hand on his lips. “Data, babe, that emotion is called jealousy. A little jealousy every now and then is fine, natural, even to a small degree flattering. But, you have to be careful to not let it become too overpowering. There’s a fine line between jealousy and possession.”

He tilted his head, considering your words before his expression grew concerned. “Did I cross that line?”

You smiled slightly and kissed his cheek. “Maybe a little, but I’ll let it slide since you were so gallant. I mean, he did grab my ass.” You chuckled and pressed your lips to his before he could begin to express his next question and he smiled into you, wrapping his arma round your shoulders to pull you closer.

The two of you sat in front of the window for another hour or so until the station security chief Odo came by, swatting you two off of “his railings,” an enamored Lwaxana of Troi hanging onto his arm like a school girl.

#data #data x reader #emotion chip data #emotion chip #star trek #star trek next gen #star trek enterprise #enterprise #star trek deep space nine #star trek deep space 9 #deep space nine #deep space 9 #quark #ferengi #star trek x reader #jealousy #jealous

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zebraslovescupcakestoo · 6 years

Text

Golden eyes Chapter 20

“Can you trust me?” He extended his hand for a shake.

I thought for a moment for what possibilities this can turn out.

Pro: He said that he's an acrobat and has speed for his advantage, which is good in case of a foot chase.

Con: They 'might' have some guns...

Pro: He IS gonna be with someone, right?

Con: He's still a kid... Teenager, but still.

Pro: I know this 'might' seems this is the best shot to confirm that the abandoned pizzeria IS their new hideout... yet...

Con: I REALLY DON'T LIKE THIS IDEA, NOT ONE BIT!

Then Oswald did something that caught me surprise. He only 'tapped' at the back of my spine and somehow, I freaked out and blurred out something inaudible from his icy touch.

Abu then jumped to Aladin's shoulder as he take it as a handshake. “Thank you so much, Mr. Felix. I promised to be very careful.” He mistook it as an 'agreement' and then quickly left. I was going to shout no but then Oswald covered my mouth and held me close. After a few seconds of silence, he decided it would be funny to blow at my ear and that made me jumped with my face redder. JUST what I needed to put more stress on my nerves! He laughed and smirked. “I didn't know you were full of energy when I went to get you this morning.”

That's the last straw! I had it with his taunts towards me and this time, I'm NOT gonna let him get away with THAT attitude. I raised my voice. “That's IT! Oswald Walt Disney! WHAT is wrong with you and WHAT did I ever do to you, personally?! Ever since we first met, you keep driving me nuts with those crazy 'tactics' towards me.”

“Don't ask me, you're the one who reacted that way when I 'gently' joking with ya.” He made the 'I don't know pose' and was still smirking. 'GENTLY' joking with me... I snapped and launched at him. I don't care how many black belts he has under his waist, I just wanna punch him right now. We rolled once and I was pinned down. “Best two out of three?” He confidently asked me with his usual smirk. I growled and then I tried again. This time I did my best, lasted longer with the struggle, I think 'we've' knocked over something and I was pinned down again. “I win again.” This time with his face closer to mine, just to add more salt in my 'injuries.'

“Guys! Please! Take it outside! You've done more than enough damage than the last guy. You've spilled some hard to get, special herbs for-”

“NGH!” I suddenly feel drowsy and my head started to throb. Oswald then looked back at me and was surprised... I then fainted.

---

I woke up from the scent of sea salt and I was laying down on a couch. I blinked a few times to realized I was back in the Gentleman’s club room. I still feel quite drowsy until I saw someone, who's face was a bit close to mine, wore a gas mask that nearly scared all of my remaining lives out of my body plus the Egyptian goddess herself. Maybe.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” I jumped high and grabbed one of the chandeliers out of panic reaction.

“Oh gosh! Felix! It's me, Mickey!” He waved a bit just to say it.

“Mickey?... What are you doing with that mask?” It took me a second to calm down my nerves. “And I thought you said you can't come in here!”

“Correction, he said he DOESN'T want to be here. Hēi māo.” I heard Oswald voice and looked at him from the arch way. “Are you trying to replicate the meaning from that 'Chandelier' song? I doubt you can do it better than the drunken stripper herself from those Broadway shows.” He chuckles quietly.

“Ha...ha...ha. I forgot how to laugh for a second there.” I sarcastically responded to Mr. Carrot top. I quickly let go and landed om my feet. Lucky for me it wasn't that high.

“Did that cat woke up? I heard something shout on a siren level.” Mushu came in the room with some coffee tray for four people.

“Yes I am. You can thank your 'bosses.' Mr. Sunshine and Poker face!” I pointed Mickey and Oswald's new nicknames in that order.

“I'm surprised Souris came in here. When he found out you've fainted by one of my special herbs, he rushed to help ya. He really can't stand smokes anymore.” Mushu explained.

He did? “You see, I really want to quit smoking. I'm not a heavy smoker like my father, I only did it once in a while to relieved stress until I found out he was dying from lung cancer. I wanted to quit that habit since I'm still healthy at my age. But it's been hard sometimes and the scent doesn't help my cravings either.” Mickey explained his situation and scratched the back of his head. So THAT'S why he doesn't want to be here... I then feel a bit guilty for mistook his reasons as just an excuse to 'use' me.

“Sorry I freaked out a while ago...” He shook his head. “It's alright. That happened to me too when I couldn't get up early in the morning. Oswald used one of the Chinese lion heads and paint it like it was like it was from a cheap, horror movie.” I looked at his brother and gave 'what the heck' look. “At least he learned to get up early. We had a lot of things to do at the time.” I sighed and turned to our accused friend. “I'm sorry for what happened earlier with me and him, Mushu. I lost my temper with that wise guy for OBVIOUS reasons.”

“Nah! I'm just glad that it only spilled on the table. Those herbs cost almost two hundreds per pack from South East Asia and they are hard to get a hand on lately.” I choked and turned pale. ALMOST two hundred dollars?! Are they dipped in gold or something?

“I wouldn't worry if it did drop on the floor, Hēi māo. I can cover it for ya if you do some services under me in exchange.”

My mind was mentally busted when he said that... Services... under... him... NONONO! WAIT! He meant jobs! Odd jobs! That's right! Now stop thinking about it and blushing so hard! ...and get that mind out of the gutter too.

“I-I-I'm just glad we didn't break anything else! So uh... What should we do now and what do you want me to do, Mushu?” I'm pretty sure they didn't drag me here just for his testimony and an unexpected reunion from my past.

“We need you to keep an eye on him for an hour. I can't stay here as I explained already and Oswald is needed somewhere else too. Can you do it?” Mickey asked.

“I... I can. But who am I supposed to stop and who should I let them see him? I only know a few of your members... And I can't-”

“Don't worry if your colleagues shows up.” Oswald handed some sort of a permit to me. “You can just show this and they won't bother either of you. Bagheera and Baloo will be here at three to pick him up and 'escort' him to another hidden establishment. Once they do, you need to go with them just in case if things get a bit crazy.”

You mean if they are being followed and I'm supposed to hold them off? With what? A whip and one pistol? If it's one it's no big deal, but a group... plausible, but that would be a bit troublesome.

“It will be by car, so don't worry too much. We also told them to get some disguises before they come here. That way both your identities will be sealed.” Mickey gladly said as he finished off his coffee and quickly puts his mask on. “Don't fall asleep this time, Hēi māo. Or else I'll use your face as my target range!” He 'calmly' replied and finishes his off, then chuckled. “I'm kidding. I don't use guns.” Wow... really assuring from you.

“I know we can trust you for this. We'll met back at the same club from that night you helped us.” Mickey tried to lift my mood up. “The club? You mean... the one where it was supposed to be a secret?” Is it the one where there was his brother's apartment and it was above it? “Uh huh!” He nodded.

“Just don't mess up on this part, Liǎojiě?” Oswald told me as he placed his empty cup on the tray next to his brother's. They both started to leave. “We'll meet you up later! Stay safe!” Mickey waved good bye as they exited.

“If they have enough trust to leave you with this, you must have something that caught their attention.” Mushu complimented me as he took his sip.

“I kinda have a different idea, but to be honest, I'm still learning myself.” I'm not lying. If it wasn't for my mom, that woman who gave me up for protecting me and saved those two, we wouldn't be here today or things would have been different... Plus they did promised to my mother before she died to look for me... and before this, I always thought she abandoned me and my father... Now, I feel a bit lost with myself.

I always thought that I was just normal, apart from my 'sight', and I used to think my father and my nephews were the only family I have... and now, this raises even more questions.

Mushu then got me back in reality. “Well, whatever you think, I personally believed it has something with your charismatic personality like Souris or some skill sets like Lapin. Then again, it can be a wild card.” Oh really?

I then realized he called them by those names. I still haven't got some of my 'important' answers and I doubt I can get it out of them anytime soon. Maybe this will be a good opportunity to get to know more about them on someone else's view.

“Say, Mushu. How long did the Blue-” He hushed me. “Let's save it in a moment, I heard one of the employees coming in. Let's go back to the hideout. Quick.” He took the tray back to the kitchen and then we both hid to the make shift smoking den. He locked the door from the entrance. “Don't worry if something happens like a fire emergency, I have a hidden emergency exit on the other side.” He assured me for safety.

“Thanks, um... Now can you tell me about the Blue Dragons? I barely know this group aside that it wasn't a 'mafia' like.” I already know the Red Dragons, but I still missing on some pieces of the Blue Dragons. Are they the same or are they different? Do they really kept their word when they say they are the good guys on a different team?

“They never told that part?” I shook my head and answered. “I only heard a brief about the Red Dragons and how they were finished. How DID the Blue Dragons started from there? I want to know who they really are.”

“Wha? You don't trust us much?” He raised an eyebrow as to say 'Should I really trust you?'

I think I might have signaled the wrong idea. “I only know from your 'bosses' that you're working for the good people in this community where they've grew up in their teens and well... I only knew how the Red Dragons ended but I haven't got a clue on how the Blue Dragons took over, especially when they said it was chaos without any order or help before they were created, I assumed.” If they were expelled from their gang before their mentors' demise and they wanted to keep protecting their home, how did they manage to do it?

“Well... You don't seem like the type to spread rumors.” He thought about it. “But, since they trust you enough, I can tell you what I know. Just to be fair, I only joined two months after their creation.” He then agrees. Perfect!

“It all started after one week since the bodies of the Red Dragons were hung on the Chinese Square and where the dragon statue used to be before they've moved it. Lapin started to recruit on whoever was left and trust worthy at the time to rebuild this district. Which let me tell you, it ain't easy. ESPECIALLY when it makes more than half the city's property values right now.” More than half the city's land is the Chinatown district? That must have been hard AND why Bendy is after them for 'territorial ownership.'

“I was barely started out in the higher ups when I first moved here, but then things got a bit 'heated' with the other shopkeepers. I did everything I can do to keep them happy but they always seems like they always have another complaint or 'favors' regarding my place. Until Lapin came along and asked if I'm interested to move to the Chinatown district and become one of the Blue Dragons for my information on the customers I've been receiving.”

“Like the Alfonso mafia's gang members and the authorities who are under them?” I wanted to make sure I get this part right.

“That and maybe some juicy info in case if there's some other rumors started to spread around. But apart from me and him, there was Souris, the second in command, Bagheera, Baloo and Lumière. We pulled a LOT of work to rebuild the district. But in the end, it was worth it. We even got more members along the way.”

“May I ask how did they manage to gain the rights to own such a large district? I doubt the mayor would have handed over to them just like that.” He maybe a bit air headed, but I doubt he'll give the authorities to two ex-vigilante with a famous last name like Disney. Oh! and I almost forgot... they were barely reaching twenty at the time!

“Actually, they won it over due to some land permit. If I remembered correctly, Kay Chow did manage to secure the district's property before the whole fiasco thing with the mafia label. I don't have any clue on how they DID manage to get their hands on it, but all I know is that Bendy can't make a move on our turf and neither does the authorities without their permissions. They've been very careful with each other and treated equally, apart from the Alfonso Mafia.”

I guess I need to find my guesses else where. “Can you tell me why where they called by their nicknames, Lapin and Souris?”

“Ah, that! Those are served as their code names in the underworld society. It's like a pen name like the Undertaker.”

“Bendy Drew?” He gasped when I said his real family name. “I hope you've prepared a will before saying that! Nobody who knew him THAT well is left unscratched, let alone being alive. He hates it.”

“I know... He preferred to be called De Mon. Fitting for his characteristics and his position.” I really don't care if he doesn't like it, he doesn't get any respect from me after what he has done to anyone who fell victim. Including to my family.

“Seems like you and us have a common enemy. As an old saying goes: The enemy of my enemy is my ally. You can gain more than cash if you join us.” He offered me to join them.

“I appreciate your generosity, but I want to keep investigating in my department. There's someone I need to find.” Besides, isn't this kind of decision is up to those two?

“Wellllllll.... If something happens, my offer is still up on the table. I can always need a second pair of hands in my business.” He cheerfully agrees and respected my decision.

“Thank you. So what can you tell me about Lapin? How does he do for a living here?” He did said about being a brilliant mechanic for one of this talents, but he never mentioned on what type of work he does.

“From what I can tell, he's the mechanic in public view, but he keeps his authority image a secret during the meetings and such when he's needed. Ya see, He wants to keep his 'real' identity as secret as he can due to his last family name. But that's hardly an issue since his father and his younger brother is OBVIOUSLY overshadowing him with their charisma, his presence is like a ghost to anyone who doesn't know him well.”

He was being over looked again? How? He's obviously in those pictures back at the first meeting we did at the tea shop. He's obviously well praised by his little brother, and he's got talents that can compete with him too! Why do they keep overlooking him like that?

“But I'm not saying that his family did so on purpose! I know Souris always has his back since they were little and even on interviews he always has nice things to say about him... But it only does a little help.” I sighed. I think he should at least given a chance to be in the spotlight a bit.

“Lapin thinks after a while that this can give him a pretty good advantage. He can get away with pretty much anything without anyone noticing him, unlike his brother Souris, who he can attract attention with his charisma and his talent show skills.” Mushu explained their complimented skill sets.

That's true. Mickey did told me that he was good at getting people's attention and Oswald can easily do whatever they needed to do when they had to survive on the streets before the Red Dragons. I don't need proof that I can't detect Oswald's presence for a sneak attack... He already did that a few times just to get on my nerves.

“So in reality, he's really in charge of the district. That's a big responsibility.” I guess that might explain why he doesn't smile much... I think I can relate to that.

“Now, I'm not saying we're perfect just because we have different combats skills among our numbers here. There was one time about a year ago that we almost lost our territory to that Demon.”

I was surprised. “Did Bendy went on a surprise attack tactic?”

“Close actually... it was a bargain and ransom.” He looked down as if he somewhat feel guilty. “It nearly tore us apart when Lapin and Souris almost got themselves killed. We were powerless to do anything...” I heard about this before... I remembered back at that abandoned pizzeria when Bendy mentioned he held Oswald captive... yet I don't remembered any mentioning of Mickey's involvements nor this bargain...

“May I ask what happened that time?” He looked at me with a surprised expression and then panicked while waving. “They never told you about that?! Oh man! Never mind! Forget I said that part! That wasn't supposed to be shared unless they gave their permission! Please don't tell to anyone about this!”

“Huh? Wh-What's wrong? Why does it have to be a secret?” It's like the same thing with Lumière back at that secret club.

He covered his mouth with both his hands, his face then turned a bit pale and he looked with at me with wide eyes. I'm guessing this is something I need to ask 'them' directly.

“I'm sorry for asking.” I tried to calm him down before the others arrived. He took a deep breath and said. “I know you're curious like a cat you are, but... the only thing I CAN tell you about it is ever since 'that' night... It became personal to them. BUT in a 'proper' way! Please don't say anything to them!” He begged me not to react about it with his hands clapped together. My eyes were widen at his answer that I wasn't expected for. It became personal...? Wha... what happened that night? I can understand if it was from that 'last' job with the Alfonso's team up or how they got expelled... But what triggered them to do so now?

We were then startled when we heard some loud knocking on the door. I then heard a familiar voice saying in Chinese and then Mushu whispered. “Can you go check if they 'are' who they are? I've been had once with the voice imitation.”

I took out my pistol and responded. “Hide yourself in case things goes out of hand.” He nodded and he disappeared behind the curtains again. I quietly but quickly pressed my back to the wall next to the door and I decided to use my 'sight' to see if they are telling the truth. To my surprise, it only took less than a second to 'show' there were two well 'seen' characters I already knew. It was Bagheera and Baloo. “Bagheera? Is that you?” I asked.

“Yes, It's me with Baloo and some clothes for disguises. We need to move quickly because some of your 'colleagues' have started to search this block.” I blinked and my sight returned to normal. “Sorry, I needed to make sure.” I opened the door and they rushed in. “Mushu! We're here! We got the disguises.” Baloo shouted a bit and then Bagheera whispered harshly. “Baloo! Shush! We're not supposed to set off an alarm!”

Mushu then jumped out with excitement. “The faster we change, the faster we can get out of here and to that club meeting. You need to change too, Felix.”

“Huh? Why should I change too?” I asked. “Weren't you paying attention earlier? You need to keep YOUR I.D. A secret too. I'm 'wanted,' remember?” He handed a pile of clothes to me. “If they see you just the way you are with me and others, they'll think you're double crossing 'them' and you'll raise suspicion afterwards.” Ah, right! If I protected him like how I 'look' now, the superiors will have my tail for this.

We quickly changed in our disguises as the other two keep an eye out for intruders. Mushu had a black leather hipster jacket from one of those biker bad boys types, a pair of navy blue jeans, brown shoes, a brown fedora with a black ribbon, and some shades to concealed his eyes.

Mine was... too similar to the one that Oswald and Bendy wore to 'concealed' their identity... it was that 'police' uniform and I was told to put my hair in a ponytail and hid it underneath my police cap. The mask was quite comfortable to wear thought.

“You know, That looks good on ya. You have no idea on how many people got fooled in this tactic.” I looked at him confused.

“You and the others, including myself, is about the same height and with that mask, nobody can really tell who is who. With our different fighting techniques, we can throw off some of the thugs that causes trouble on our side.”

He has a point. I've heard about that technique when there's some people who wore similarities to make it look like it's just one person, but in reality, it was a doppelganger or someone posing as that person. A stunt double, to keep it short.

He placed our clothing back in the suitcase, I've kept my belt just in case. “Alright, let's bust this joint!” Mushu told them as we exited.

Once we headed to the taxi car, Baloo had a bit of a hard time fitting in but he manages to do it quickly. We're lucky that we're both small enough to have some room. “You both alright? I'm not used to being in a car. I preferred walking. Helps with my health.”

“Not when you're eating like an elephant every meal.” Bagheera commented as he starts up the car. “Well you hardly have a bite in your meals without talking so much.” He combated back at his words.

“Guys, let's not start another fight. We don't have such time for now with the drug bust operation. Save it for later.” Mushu calms them down as he ducked a bit to avoid any eye contacts from anyone who might be spying on us.

“Who are we supposed to look out for? The usual?” I tried to think of a different topic as well as to what am I supposed to do now. The mafia is one thing but the police... I pray that we don't run into anyone I knew and loved...

“If you see somethings suspicious, let me know. We can gain speed on the highway and back.” Bagheera told me as we entered.

I simply nodded and glanced outside of my window for anything unusual. I don't see any police cars so far. I noticed from the construction sings that there will be a detour back from the city. I guess they wanted to avoid suspicions from the police. However, there's some black cars that looks like it's been following us and they were in a row formation. I think they're might be following us.

“Bagheera, I think we got company. There's more behind that one.” I warned him. He then handed a familiar gun I haven't seen for a few days... it was a Uzi gun Mickey used in the circus with those magicians. Judging from what it was described on the box case, it held twenty-five .45 ACP bullets. So there's twenty-five shots I can-

I then noticed Baloo taking out a box under our seats with more cases of the same brand. “I'm guessing you both have thought ahead just in case.” I said to them.

“Just wait until we made a detour before you fire that thing. We can let them walk from the highway.” Bagheera said to me for a tactic plan. That's a pretty good idea of not killing anyone, at least when we have more options up to this point.

“Get ready, I'm gonna put this at full speed once I turn this thing around. Get ready...” We all have our hands on our seat belts. Normally under safety laws, we need them for protections in case there was an accident. But then again, when you're up against some people with guns and part of a mafia that would turn the streets into a bloody drag race, you need to break the law to protect them under extreme circumstances... Sam would have a good field day to see me now.

“Now!” He jammed the brakes as he curves an inch before the construction sings. We all held on as he turned the taxi car around in a quite sudden movement. I then quickly checked the cars that were following us to see what we're up against. One.. Two... Three...? and an ice cream truck?! What the-!!! That logo... it has that a Bendy logo! I forgot that he has promoted some ice cream transportation for his tasty treat business. Why would he send that after us?!

“Alright, Black Cat. They're all yours! That thing you're holding can fire three per shot, be careful.” Mushu quickly ducked to the floor to prevent himself getting shot. Baloo can only bend a little due to his size... I guess I need to do this on my own under these circumstances.

I rolled down both windows quickly and just when I tried to pop out, they started to fire at me and the trunk. Now how am I supposed to fire back without getting hit? “Dang! They're packing heat with those guns!” Mushu said as he was crouching down.

Wait... Heat... The Heat Eye ability! I forgot about that! I closed my eyes and... How am I supposed to do it again? I spoke too soon when I was struck with pain and my vision turned a bit of a shade of red. When I opened my eyes, I noticed that I was almost like time has frozen, but I sort of feel like it was passing slowly. My head started to throb. I guess I needed to do this quickly. As soon as I popped out of the window, I took aim at the first car I see at their front tires and I only gently triggered when it fired a bit too quickly to what I'm used to. Good thing I held it with both hands. I then did the same with the car on the left. I took their front tired out and they curved a few times before they stopped at the side of the highway.

But as soon as I looked at the third car, he hit the back of ours! I then had another sharp pain coming through my head and time is now passing normally. We violently swerved and I was thrown back in the passenger seat. I did my best so that I pointed the gun away from them and not to trigger the switch. I got lucky again, but my head feel like I got pounded multiple times with a metal pipe. I grunted and I held my head with my spare hand.

“Hey cat, are you alright?” Baloo worriedly asked for my wellness. “Y-yeah... Just a little light headed for a moment there.” “Terribly sorry about that. That car behind us almost made me lose my steering.” Bagheera let's me know his reasons. But I don't blame him. “Just give me a few second-” BAM! That car hit us again. “Never mind!” I need to stop that thing before it will crash us. At least there's only one left with plausibly one gunner to look out for. I pulled down the window and I seized the moment to take aim at the tires, I missed when they swerved away from my spot. “Dog gone it!” I entered back and went to my other window, he does it again! “I think they're avoiding my fire range!” BAM! That reckless yet cleaver driver keeps ramming us.

I got frustrated. “How am I supposed to get him if he keeps avoiding me? He's gonna make us crash if I don't do something.” “Wait! I remembered when we had the same problem before, excuse me.” Baloo suggested and slightly lifted my seat to reveal a metal plate. I was curious on what he's gonna do until he use it to cover the top of the front seats. “Get ready, I'm gonna bust the back window so you can take out the tires. We're you counting when you shoot?” BAM! “Ngh! I still have some left! Hurry!” He took a second to concentrate and smashed the back window with full strength. I took the opportunity to bolt, quickly aimed at the front their tires, and fired the rest of my ammunition. Bull's eye! The last car swerved and stopped in the middle of the road.

But I wasn't relieved yet, for then came the ice cream truck with his jingles coming on. What the heck? I don't want to sound crazy, but I decided to take another ammo pack, just in case. I keep a close watch on that truck as it catches up next to us. I noticed the logo on that truck had that two cartoon character from the Joey Drew studio the third... Bendy and Boris... I don't think they wanted to serve some ice cream on this high speed chase. The side door opened to reveal an ice cream employee with his hands behind his back and smiled. “Ciao! Would you like some Bendy special treats?” He then took out a machine gun and pointed straight at us. “It is served very well in bloodied cold!” He then grinned wide like a psycho nut!

Normally, I would preferred not to shoot and kill. However, I was fortunate enough that I can shoot at his shoulders, to prevent him from triggering. I quickly shot at his right arm due to the fact he was right handed judging from the way he held it. He grunted when one of the bullet struck his right shoulder and dropped his weapon. Bagheera floored it once he hit the city limit.

After we did a few turns and detours to avoid tailing from whoever was tagging us and stopped at a parking lot behind a tall building of a er... how shall I put this delicately... a 'pleasurable' shop for night jobs, just to say politely...

“I hope Lapin doesn't get too mad when we had to bust the back window.” Bagheera sighed as he looked at the damage of our taxi. “I'm pretty sure he'll understand the situation we were in. Now let's get moving! We need to go to 'that' place before those guys shows up for round two.” Mushu reminded us about this situation and I wouldn't blame him. I just took out three mafia cars and one machine gunner and we escaped their chase with only a half broken down taxi.

“Where should we go? I don't remember where.” I asked one of them. “I know the way, but we need to do it quickly and not to draw any-” “OW!” Mushu yelped and bended down on one knee. “Fireflies! I think my foot got numb from stretching to much!” Baloo then picks him up with one arm. “Don't you worry, ya little red lizard. I got ya.”

“If we're done here, let's move it. They'll bound to show up if we don't.” Bagheera sounded serious. “Yes, let's go.” I nodded and we headed straight to the alley ways.

We did a lot of turns and hiding when we follow Bagheera. I knew why he did that just in case we're being followed, but just to be sure we aren't, I checked behind often us just in case if we missed someone. We did so for a little while until I bumped into Baloo when he stopped. “SHH!” Bagheera hushed us as he stick himself to the wall corner and looks out. We did so the same, but with me behind a huge Indie guy who's holding a little guy, I can only do so much except to keep an eye behind us.

“Alright, move quietly. We're almost there.” He signaled. We walked carefully toward the familiar alley to where they've taken me when I first introduced to.

O.K. We're almost done, Felix. Keep your guard up until we're all safe and sound.

...AH! We were then halted when there was one of the guys at the police station spotted us in a split second. Soon there was two others that joined him who wore black suits. Upon further inspection from our 'friend,' it was that same creepy guy who tried to get me this morning. On my experiences with these guys who joined recently, he's working with Bendy as an informant or doing one of their dirty works... I bet my lunch break he's probably responsible for 'retrieving' the drug evidence from the station.

“Well, well, well. Looks like luck WAS on our side after all. Not only we found our 'culprit,' but the infamous yet mysterious police officer Ping himself. No wonder the guys were having a hard time catching up with them.” The creepy guy talked as he took out a switch blade and played a but with it. “I hope the boss wouldn't mind if we took a picture of you without your mask. He's been dying to figure out your image.”

Ping? Is that another code name? I do recall what Mushu told me about having similar disguises to throw off some enemies. But now is not the time for those questions. I took out that paper Oswald gave to me and I did my best to tone my voice in a Chinese accent to cover my identity. “Our friend is not culprit. See this paper here? No evidence, No arrest.” He then sliced the paper that I held horizontally. I guess this guy never liked negotiations “F#k your laws here, you're nothing but a dirty immigrant without anything value to us decent folks. WE run this city, we can do anything we want and none of your 'friends' can do anything about it. Now hand him over before we had to use bloody brutal force!” He then grinned widely as he was confident with his switch blade pointed straight in my face. Blasted cocky jerk! Another grain of salt in this whole prejudging people! It sucks when they say stuff they don't even know about before! I decided to use my disguise as my advantage and tell it off.

“You need to stop judging before knowing better! No good will come out of it! Change your attitude too!” He then took a swing attempt at my neck, I dodge it and took out the Uzi gun to point at him. “Wow, that's a neat gun you got, but I think it's better for me to have it. Get those Indies, boys! This one is mine!” He ordered them to go after them. “Don't underestimate us!” Bagheera took a pose and he quickly did a one punch knock out! Yikes! “Ping! Look out!” Mushu yelled at 'me.' I looked back at the creepy guy and it was a close shave from his attack as I flexed back. I took that opportunity to kick it out of his hand at the same time as I back flipped. He yelped as I did and his blade went flying far to the streets. “You dirty street rat!” He sounded pissed. “Takes one to know one!” I mocked and regain my aiming. “Now don't move and tell your buddies to back off.” He looked at me with a dead look and then he opened up his jacket to reveal something that makes my eyes widen in fear.

This nut bar hid two packs of bomb strapped at his stomach and he revealed a trigger button on his left hand. But that's not the only thing he had hidden. There was a camera too... a latest model that news reporters preferred to use. “You don't understand a single thing on proper copper training... You need to do anything you can to get what you want. Everything and everybody has a price.” He then got confident again. If he sets it off, we're all done for!

“Now here's my price: I want you to remove that mask of yours. My boss is giving a pretty good amount of clod, hard cash to uncover your face AND wanted to get more dirt on the cops... or maybe on you. Unless of course, you'd rather be unrecognized at the autopsy along with the rest of us.” He waved his camera slowly as he was taunting.

No... How can I get out of this? I gritted my teeth at my options.

If I refuse, we're all dead.

If I reveal my face, not only I'll be fired for obstructing an arrest, but Bendy will take this in his advantage... Only God knows what will happened to my nephews when the authorities will take them away...

I don't know if my 'sight' can detect if the bomb is real or not... Only one option I can take... I put away the Uzi gun.

“Just let them go once you've taken the picture...” I quietly said and he grinned at my answer. “Don't forget the hat too. I can't wait to see you bend over and be our newest wh#re.”

I held back my tongue as I slowly reached for my mask and my hat with shaking hands... I sweated and my heart beats faster...

He took his camera in position to take a good shot of me when I'm masking off. I then froze in fear at my hand on the tied up mask and the other on my hat. “Hurry up. I got thing to do after this!” He hissed and showed the trigger button again to remind me of the situation.

I closed my eyes as tight as I can and said a little prayer to myself.

'God, please. If anything happens to me after this, please spare my friends and family from th-'

Suddenly, a loud unusual bang sound interrupted, shook me up, opened my eyes wide and gasped...

TO BE CONTINUED... Chapter 21.

Read chapter 19 here.

Read the beginning here.

WHOHOO!!! We hit the twenties!!!

I gotta finish my last chapter soon before there’s gonna be a CANON personal traits like with Mickey and Oswald with EP2 game. A.k.a. When she mentioned one was a painter and the older bro is a mechanic genius....

Or even a new character like Alex and Sheba. (Still don’t like the doppelganger.)

Anyways, I DID sort of predicted a plausible tactic traits on the Disney bros.

Like their cartoon counterparts. Mickey would be an ideal candidate if he was supposed to distract people like being the center of attention for example. Oswald on the other hand, may not be in the spotlight (much) BUT it can give him the advantage of a surprise attack or sneaking in like a ninja! If you can’t see him, you’ll think he’s not there until you’ll eat a knuckle sandwich. Get the picture?

And I’ll be honest, the move Heat Eye ability was from a Yakuza game series in a car chase which inspired this scene. I think this would be a GREAT advantage for Felix if he’s up against a tricky and speedy foe in the canon comic.

So his eyes in this story ain’t just for detecting lies and real treasures...

But apart from that, if you have followed the whole series, I hinted on what Bendy did to them on ‘that day.’ Why? Well, that will soon be reveal in the later chapters.

So for this week’s questions: Will Felix unmask himself or did that banging sound interrupted them did something?

Read in next week to see what it is!

BBTIM characters belong to Marini4. Disney Characters belong to the Disney animation studios.

#Felix The Cat #Felix #Mickey Mouse #mickey #oswald the lucky rabbit #oswald #bendy before the ink machine #fanfiction #marini4

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deadcactuswalking · 3 years

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 26/12/2020 (LadBaby, Boris Johnson, Ed Sheeran)

It’s Boxing Day in the UK as I write this and I’m pretty tired but we still have to review those charts regardless, especially this chart as this is the Christmas chart – at least it’s being paraded around as such – and hence we have a Christmas #1. For the third year in a row, family vlogger, pseudo-comedian and amateur musician, not to be confused with DaBaby, Mark Ian Hoyle – more commonly known as “LadBaby”, has bagged the #1 for the holiday season. Every time I’ve covered the Christmas #1 it has been this guy and, yeah, I’m tired of it. At least this year he felt some stiff competition, and hey, the songs’ proceeds do go to charity. Oh, yeah, and this guy is the third act to have three Christmas #1s in a row, putting this nobody from Nottingham with a barebones Wikipedia page and a couple million YouTube subscribers on the level of the Beatles and Spice Girls. God, the UK Singles Chart never fails to amaze me. Anyway, that’s arguably not even the biggest story here so let’s start REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

As I said before, this is the “Christmas week” so throughout the UK Top 75 there are a lot of holiday songs re-peaking or reaching new peaks, before dropping off entirely the next week. Let’s start as we always do by listing the drop-outs from the chart, of which there are quite a few notable ones. Most of our top 40 debuts from last week are gone, like Taylor Swift’s “champagne problems” and “no body, no crime” featuring HAIM, as well as “Show Out” by Kid Cudi, the late Pop Smoke and Skepta. We can also say goodbye to “Sunflower (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse)” by Post Malone and Swae Lee, finally after 54 weeks and a surprise return earlier this month, in addition to other top 10 hits like “you broke me first” by Tate McRae, “See Nobody” by Wes Nelson and Hardy Caprio and “What You Know Bout Love” also by Pop Smoke, as well as some more minor hits like “Wonder” by Shawn Mendes, “Lonely” by Justin Bieber and benny blanco, “Train Wreck” by James Arthur, “Golden” by Harry Styles and “Plugged in Freestyle” by A92 and Fumez the Engineer, but I can see almost all of these rebounding hard next week so I don’t think there’s much to worry about here. For fallers, since Christmas has really consumed everything about this chart this week, we have some big ones that’ll find themselves back in the top 10 or at least top 20 next week like “positions” by Ariana Grande at #19 (the first non-Christmas non-debut song to appear on the chart, by the way), “Sweet Melody” by Little Mix at #20, “Whoopty” by CJ at #22, “34+35” by Ariana Grande at #28, “WITHOUT YOU” by The Kid LAROI at #31, “Prisoner” by Miley Cyrus and Dua Lipa at #35 alongside “Midnight Sky” also by Miley at #36, “willow” by Taylor Swift off the debut to #37, “Get Out My Head” by Shane Codd at #38 and “Paradise” by MEDUZA and Dermot Kennedy. We also have “Therefore I Am” by Billie Eilish at #43, “Really Love” by KSI featuring Craig David and Digital Farm Animals at #45, even “HOLIDAY” by Lil Nas X at #49, “Mood” by 24kGoldn featuring iann dior at #54, “Loading” by Central Cee at #59, “Head & Heart” by Joel Corry and MNEK at #60, “Monster” by Shawn Mendes and Justin Bieber at #64, “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd at #66, “Dynamite” by BTS at #67, “Lemonade” by Internet Money and Gunna featuring Don Toliver and NAV at #72, “Levitating” by Dua Lipa with the biggest fall down to #73 and finally “No Time for Tears” by Nathan Dawe and Little Mix at #74. To put the dominance of holiday music on the charts in perspective, if we take the songs that are not either explicitly Christmas-related or a clear Christmas #1 campaign (i.e. LadBaby), the song at #38 would be at #10 and our #1 would be “positions” by Ariana Grande at #19. “Whoopty” by CJ, that entered the top 10 last week and dropped to #22 this week, would be at #3. There are 11 songs in the top 40 that never made an effort to take advantage of the holiday season. When we get into some of our debuts, it’ll be even clearer how big Christmas is in British pop music. Anyway, let’s skim through our gains and returning entries, most of which are Christmas or Christmas-related. For returning entries, we have the comically awful “Lonely this Christmas” by Mud at #71, last year’s scam attempt at a Christmas #1, “River” by Ellie Goulding at #69, “The Christmas Song (A Merry Christmas to You)” by Nat King Cole at #63 (which I’d appreciate more in the top 20 like it is in the US every year – this is a classic), “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders at #62 (again, incredible song that deserves a higher holiday peak each year), “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” by Darlene Love at #58, “Santa’s Coming for Us” by Sia at #55, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” by Sam Smith at #53 and for whatever reason, “Holy” by Justin Bieber featuring Chance the Rapper at #41. In terms of notable gains – and I stress notable, since a lot of higher-up Christmas songs had small gains but still good performance - we have “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” by the Jackson 5 at #57, “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” by Frank Sinatra at #56, “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby at #52, “Baby it’s Cold Outside” by Brett Eldredge and Meghan Trainor at #51, “Forever Young” by Becky Hill at #50 (both off of the debut), “Baby it’s Cold Outside” AGAIN by Michael Bublé and Idina Menzel at #47, “Love is a Compass” by Griff at #46, “Feliz Navidad” by Jose Feliciano at #44, “Cozy Little Christmas” by Katy Perry at #42, “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” AGAIN by Dean Martin at #39, “Sleigh Ride” by the Ronettes at #34, “Christmas Lights” by Coldplay at #33, “Santa Baby” by Kylie Minogue at #32, “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber at #29, “Jingle Bell Rock” by Bobby Helms at #27, “Wonderful Christmastime” by Paul McCartney at #26, “Holly Jolly Christmas” by Michael Bublé at #25, “All You’re Dreaming Of” by Liam Gallagher at #24 (thanks to a Christmas #1 campaign that crashed and failed), “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” by Andy Williams at #23, “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” by John Lennon and Yoko Ono with the Plastic Ono Band featuring the Harlem Community Choir at #21, “One More Sleep” by Leona Lewis at #18, “Merry Xmas Everybody” by Slade at #17, “Underneath the Tree” by Kelly Clarkson at #15, and finally, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Justin Bieber illegitimately notching a spot in the top 10 at #8. Finally, we can get onto the new arrivals, although something about this next one tells me that we won’t be in line for anything all that good.

NEW ARRIVALS

#70 – “I’ll be Home” – Meghan Trainor

Produced by Meghan Trainor

...for Christmas. She’ll be home for Christmas. I guess she just can’t finish sentences, even though her cover art has the full title. Anyway, this is a 2014 original Christmas song that went nowhere except Sweden. It’s not anything like the Bing Crosby and wasn’t nearly as successful, mostly because it’s a jingly, inoffensive ballad tacked onto a silly Christmas EP that also features Fifth Harmony and Fiona Apple of all people – who probably should have charted her track instead – as well as the deluxe edition of that debut record Title that nobody liked. At least in this, she’s not going for a faux-retro style, or at least one that I can find the inspiration for, and is just singing over this oddly jaunty piano melody – which sounds pretty albeit bland – as well as some swells of strings and acoustic guitar that do work sonically. The content implies that Meghan Trainor is in contact with Santa Claus personally, and that he gave her the advice to be home with her lover this Christmas and... that’s why this charted, isn’t it? Well, it’s not her fault – it’s not a “stuck with u” moment, but it is dodgy that she decided to put this on her own Christmas record that was released in October of this year, which can’t seem unintentional. I’d be lying to say this isn’t a pretty little tune from Trainor and her voice does fit this instrumental, but a jazzy rendition from someone with a deeper, smoother voice, would work wonders with the content. Oh, and that Christmas record features guest appearances from both Earth, Wind & Fire and Seth MacFarlane, as well as her dad, because, you know, sure, 2020.

#65 – “Gnat” – Eminem

Produced by d.a. got that dope

I can’t tell if I’m underestimating Christmas or overestimating Eminem when I say I expected an album bomb – or whatever that equivalent would be in the UK and our land of silly chart rules – from the deluxe edition of his pretty damn terrible album, Music to be Murdered By. This 3/10 trainwreck consists of two hours I’ll never get back of either great beats wasted by Eminem’s corny, stiff flows and painfully unlikeable delivery or obnoxious, unlistenable beats that are dated enough for Eminem to start going on his Relapse “killing women in funny accents” shtick, which was awful then and even worse now when he tries to replicate it. Marshall, you’re 48, and I know that you’re just “messing around” but if you’re going to treat the album as a cinematic masterpiece within the album and its thematic Alfred Hitchcock interludes, you have to understand that the audience will see it as that way as well, so you having fun and being painfully unfunny in the process over cutting-room-floor trap instrumentals cannot slide. At least Kamikaze had some genuine anger and dare I say some actual balls in how it tackled controversy and dissed everyone he could think of off the top of his head. The last record was angry and bitter, this one’s just tired and lazy, and that’s before we get into some of the ugliest bars, instrumentals and cadences Slim Shady’s ever put on record, which is especially present on “Gnat”, a lightweight trap banger with some acoustic guitars not dissimilar to those that would appear on a Lil Baby mixtape, complete with questionable bass mixing and really bad hooks. On the verses, he sends a death threat to Mike Pence, but on the chorus, his bars are “like COVID” because “you get them right off the bat”. I don’t know about you, but in 2020, I don’t want to hear Eminem harmonising with producer tags, making topical and insensitive pandemic references, or spitting sex bars with coughing ad-libs. Before the beat switch, his flows are some of the sloppiest and drawn-out he’s ever used, and yes, I’ll admit, that second beat is a lot better and Em kills it over that instrumental – but only for a brief moment before we have a third beat, which Eminem is pretty great over, especially with that sax and sweet piano keys overlaid with hard 808s and Eminem’s rapid-pace, quick fire flow... and then he raps the chorus again and I want the song to end as quickly as it started – thankfully, it does end rather abruptly. Just wasted potential all throughout – if that beat switch and flow was a guest verse on damn near anyone else’s record (Em has made tracks with Don Toliver of all people, and he could work), this could be great. For now, Em, you know Kris Kristofferson? I think you should Piss Pissofferson. Forever. Look that up, by the way, that’s a lyric on the record because of course it is.

#61 – “In the Bleak Midwinter” – Jamie Cullum

Produced by ???

I had only briefly heard the name “Jamie Cullum” before this, but he is an English jazz-pop singer and pianist who’s basically useless and uninteresting but, hey, at least he has a radio show on BBC Radio 2. Sure, I mean that might have been the reason that Amazon Music picked him up for an exclusive project for which this is the biggest single. It’s not on Spotify, it’s not even on Genius, and it’s barely on YouTube but since it is, I should tell you that this is his first charting single since 2009 and it’s a remarkably uninteresting rendition of a Christmas carol done a lot better by Jacob Collier – and that one’s on Spotify – so yeah, your sleepy piano arrangement and tone that makes you sound like Robbie Williams half the time and Beck the other, doesn’t interest me. Goodbye.

#30 – “Afterglow” – Ed Sheeran

Produced by PARISI, Fred Again and Ed Sheeran

If we inexplicably remove everything Christmas-related on the chart, Eminem’s “Gnat” would have debuted at #20, and this new track from Ed Sheeran, already stunted from being released on an unconventional day, would have hit #5. Regardless of chart position, Ed Sheeran’s back with his first solo single since Divide. Yes, I’m purposefully ignoring that collaborative project he put out in 2019 because as far as I know, it doesn’t exist. At the end of the year, when things are looking as if he could start touring again, Sheeran predictably releases his lead-off single. This song in particular is a heartfelt ballad from Ed to his wife, who he wishes to be there forever and even if they aren’t together at any moment, whether he’s touring or they separate for whatever reason, he’ll “hold on to the afterglow”. I won’t lie, it’s a really sweet and convincingly sold love song from Ed, even if it’s not anything new, it does feel like a different approach since he’s a newly-wed man now. Although I’m not a fan of this somewhat muddy mixing that somehow messes up just a guy and his acoustic guitar, making what should be a really pretty, ethereal and mellow track sound almost ugly, which doesn’t flatter Ed and his limited delivery at all, especially when he starts getting multi-tracked in the second verse and whooshing sound effects of strings pop up in the mix, and, yeah, it just sounds cheap and gross at this point, which is really a waste of incredible content and a great performance from Ed, who sells everything as well as he can. I understand how this is supposed to be down to Earth, so a perfect mix wouldn’t make sense, but if you’re going to make him harmonise with his own background vocals and even show signs of belting, give him some more grandiosity and go full out instead of restraining him so that it just sounds jarring. With a different mix this could be one of Ed’s best tracks since the melodies are on point, the song feels really heart-warming and sincere, especially coming from Ed to his wife, but we won’t get a remaster anytime soon, I imagine, so for now this is just pretty damn good. I love the cover art as well, painted by Ed himself, and released alongside the single as a bit of a Christmas gift to fans, as well as the start of what I’m pretty sure will be a promo cycle. If this is a good peek into what that album will sound like, it’s safe to say I’m more than excited than ever to hear from Ed Sheeran.

#5 – “Boris Johnson is a Fricking Jerk” – Kool & the Gang

Produced by ???

Okay, so the song’s calling Boris Johnson something stronger than a “fricking jerk”, and the song is decidedly not by soul legends Kool & the Gang, although I’d love for that to happen sometime. This is a family show, of course, so we have to take some liberties. This track originates from a comedian from Basildon, Essex of all places, and whilst we don’t know his name, the songwriting credit on Spotify is given to contemporary British poet Wayne Clements so maybe he’s behind this, who knows? Whether he is or not, I can tell you the history behind this comedian’s music, as he has been making crude short singles about controversial topics in British society and politics for a while, including some about Nick Clegg that charted, although never higher than #63. He retired in 2016 but after writing an autobiography, the guy’s back and he released a compilation of punk rock tracks, all of which are small and profane, with a “band” of puppets that I also can’t name. State-controlled Russian television networks – because, sure, again, it’s 2020 – say that he will start touring in 2021, mostly because he’s finally reached that mainstream audience with this family-friendly tune about Boris Johnson. Here’s how Vick Hope and Katie Thistleton introduced it live on air during the mid-week chart reveal.

Now at #19, we've got a track about Boris Johnson that has so many bad words in it, we can't play it on daytime Radio 1.

Ah, you cowards. Wait... Anyway, I’m pretty happy that the British public can stick it to Boris and the heartless Tories that follow him and currently rule the country, even if it is all a bloody stupid joke from an anonymous punk rocker. We can dig into Boris for his failures on Brexit, mishandling of the pandemic, disgraceful reality-star-esque personal life, that he wasn’t even born in the UK yet is basically a nationalist, his history of Islamophobic commentary, his crap excuses for journalism back in the 2000s or even his clown-nose, blonde bowl-cut “hair style” he adopts whilst addressing us on live television feeding us lies and misleading statements that turn into retcons the next time he has to address the nation, whether it be on Brexit or COVID-19 tiers and regulations, both of which are a confusing mess to both sides of Europe that exist to drift us away from where we should be going as a nation, and further into the realm of political party tribalism that we know absolutely does not work in the States and that we mock the Yanks for. We’re more than the sick man of Europe, we are the America of Europe. I guess you could say Ireland is our Canada, but we don’t even have a Mexico to make us look better, we just have other western, central and northern European countries that may be flawed but are far ahead of whatever the hell this shell of a union is in 2020, less than 80 years after the creation of our National Health Service. People will look to pundits and newsreaders like Piers Morgan, entertainers like Phillip Schofield, war veterans and charity-givers like Captain Tom Moore, and even politicians like Boris Johnson, as the “heroes” of Britain’s 2020 but it’s increasingly clear that absolutely no-one is a hero, and it’s the people’s right to be upset. Hence, nearly exactly a year after Boris Johnson cheated his way into power by smear campaigns and elitism, we have this song debuting at #5. Unfortunately, the song doesn’t go into any of that. It just repeats the title in an anthemic – and considerably agreeable – refrain that is an undeniable punk hook. The riffs and guitar work here isn’t of any interest, but the guy’s delivery is powerful and furious, so I’ll give the song credit: it’s not just correct but it’s really good, especially for a one minute runtime. He also released some satirical MIDI-level synth-pop remix with gross Christmas sleigh bells and hi-hat skitters, because, say it with me, it’s 2020. I wouldn’t recommend the album though, it overstays its welcome by the time you get to “Jesus Died of a Stranglewank”.

#1 – “Don’t Stop Me Eatin’” – LadBaby

Produced by who cares?

I can’t get mad at this lazy “parody” of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” about sausage rolls, or even its Ronan Keating remix, which is LadBaby doing a favour to Ronan Keating, if anything. Sure, my blood boils with the idea that this incompetent Internet personality from the East Midlands – which I think I’m sadly also able to describe myself as – got the #1 over Mariah Carey, or even that Boris Johnson diss track, but it’s going to the Trussell Trust and it’s ultimately an inoffensive, vaguely happy track that even gets the vegans involved. I, for one, prefer “Boris Johnson is a Sausage Roll”, a version of our #5 you can – and should – play on the radio even after Christmas. I don’t have anything more to say about this guy so piss off, LadBaby, you can’t even get the album cover right to the song you’re parodying, thrice in a row.

Conclusion

Best of the Week is definitely going to the Somethings for “Boris Johnson is a Something Something”, with an Honourable Mention to Ed Sheeran’s “Afterglow”. I can’t bring myself to give a charity single Worst of the Week so I’ll spare LadBaby the honour and grant it to Jamie Cullum for his greedy Amazon exclusive trite, with a Dishonourable Mention for “Gnat” by Eminem, for just being wasted potential all across the board. Next week, everything Christmas-related will be gone and we’ll get a bunch of returns and hopefully some new, interesting returning entries. We might even get the impact of Playboi Carti’s long-anticipated album – and I hope so because it’s fantastic – but that’s wishful thinking. Anyways, I hope everyone had a happy holiday season. Here’s our top 10:

Thank you for reading. You can follow me @cactusinthebank for more rambling about pop music and occasionally politics, and I’ll see you next year.

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