#like… let’s not pretend that doesn’t happen. or that discord doesn’t end up being correct to present her with challenges sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

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A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

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First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

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You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

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brekkerism · 4 years

Text

BASIC INSTINCT (Part 1 - A Spencer Reid Series)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: (Y/N) has recently joined the bau through non conventional and rather privileged means. Couple that with a dark and troubled past, all she really wants is a fresh start. What she didn’t predict getting in her way of that, was one Special Agent Dr Spencer Reid. She thinks it’s hopeless and he’ll hate her forever. That is, until she sees Dr Reid on a rather...unusual place.

A/n: I kinda can’t believe this is my first Spencer Reid/Criminal minds fic. I’ve been obsessed for so long but I never got the courage to post anything. Well, we’ll see how this one goes. I really do hope all of you enjoy this, since I’m planning to make it multi chapters and I’m too in love to abandon it! Forgive me for not giving y’all the smut right away but good things come to those who are patient! And also huge thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins for being such a wonderful human and helping me beta this first one. Shout out to all the lovely people in the discord for encouraging me enough to write this. And also for my sweet liv, bc if she didn’t like this I would def not have posted.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word count: 2320

Rating: R-no actual hard smut. For now.

Content warning: 12+ years age gap, description of bdsm scenes and play, swear words, brief fingering

*********

Since the first day I stepped in the bau, I knew Dr.Spencer Reid would not like me one bit.

Call it a gut feeling, a hunch, or maybe my justified pessimism.

I knew the moment my dad told me, fresh out of the academy and not even slightly experienced at 24 years old, that I ‘mysteriously’ got a generous offer for a job with one of the best teams the FBI had to offer, that I wasn’t going to be liked by a lot of people. Because it wasn’t a mystery how I got the position. It was actually really plain and simple, and could be boiled down to one word:

Nepotism

I didn’t ask for it; I didn’t want it (no matter how much I actually wanted the position, but by my earning it on my own merits), but I completely understood something like this was likely to happen. I knew it the moment I moved back home and decided that the only thing worthwhile I really wanted to do was join the FBI. My dad was a good guy who was just trying to help me, his intentions were just a little misguided. It happens.

What doesn’t ‘just’ happen is that my dad is the deputy director of the FBI. His helping me was ‘making calls’ and ‘pulling strings’, which instantly gives my peers every reason to doubt every achievement I have.

But I was completely ready for it.

What I wasn’t ready for is for everyone on the team to be normal and so welcoming to me, like I was any other agent. It was everything I wanted.

Well, everyone did that except him. I couldn’t figure it out why, but from the first minute he turned those eyes towards me, looking me up and down but never quite reaching my eyes, I could feel the scrutiny under the stare. Almost like he was saying “Really? This is it?”.

But with a blink it was gone, and he turned away from me and put his attention to the book in his hand so fast I almost thought I imagined the whole thing.

But I knew, I knew I saw it. And I knew that even if I didn’t want it, my body and brain would spend days trying to make him acknowledge me again, to look me up and down again, to try and prove to him what I’ve been trying to prove to everyone:

I deserved to be there. I could earn it by myself. I just need the chance to do it.

And so, my journey to try to not only be useful but a valuable agent, someone he would have to notice began.

And it was shit.

Everyone was so willing not only to teach me, but to listen to my input.

Luke always had my back, both of us being the newbies in the team. JJ and Tara were always open to listening to theories, doubts and rambling, besides being totally badass inspirations. Penelope always had a eager and friendly attitude that could comfort me immediately, and she welcomed me with open arms. Emily and Rossi were patient, while also pushing me to be so much better, and being the best mentors they could be.

None of them even seemed to have even a passing thought of giving me special treatment or harsher judgment. It was almost perfect.

If it wasn’t for Special Fucking Agent Doctor Reid. He wouldn’t even be an asshole towards me, oh no, It was much, much worse. He ignored me.

He was almost happy to pretend I didn’t even exist. Of course there were situations that he couldn’t avoid socializing, as minimal as it was, but it was like he was talking to a wall. He looked at me like he was surprised that I was even there. He wouldn’t acknowledge me unless he was made to. He wouldn’t even correct me when I was wrong. At this point I was sure that I could be screaming bloody murder at him and he wouldn’t take his eyes off whatever he was doing.

It was the most frustrating and irritating thing that has ever happened to me. It made my blood boil over. It made me cry with sorrow.

And I couldn’t even figure out why. I didn’t know what it was that made me crazy because Spencer Reid wouldn’t look my way.

So I did what every angry and frustrated normal young adult does.

I went to a sex dungeon to drink my mixed feelings away and watch BDSM scenes. Duh.

Even though I wasn’t going there to play, and I thought I would never be able to play again, it was still a safe place for me. A place where I could see people that once knew the real me and provided a place free of any judgement. People who didn’t know who I was outside of those walls, who thought of me as just another person in that safe and different little world.

It also helped that watching, as much as it wasn’t my preference before, was the only thing that could properly get me off these days. And after everything, I thought I still deserved the ability to enjoy some parts of it.

And so, after saying my goodbyes to Pen, JJ amd Emily, and finding flimsy excuses not to join them at the bar for Friday drinks, I hopped the elevator, wondering how long would it take me to get properly dressed and drive across town, and if I was going to be able to call more of my old friends.

But all my happy thoughts of getting to immerse myself on a world I still loved were immediately clouded when a hand stopped the elevator and went in with me. His hand.

Great, just the perfect ending to an shitty day. A awkward elevator ride with Spencer Reid. And as always, he didn’t bother to acknowledge me, even though it was just the two of us riding down.

I was trying so hard to be in a good mood; to ignore the shitty end to a shittier case and go somewhere where I could try to be happy. But I just had to be met with his silence, his awkwardness, his existence in general. I didn’t want to feel like that today. So before I could stop myself, I did something stupid

“So, what are your plans for the weekend, Doctor?”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid. Like he would voluntarily participate in small talk with me, something he already didn’t like, with someone he didn’t even bother to not like.

“I think I’m going to go to a party with a friend today.”

Now that took me by surprise. No short replies? No one syllable answers? He actually told me something out of his own free will? He engaged in small talk?!

“O-oh? I didn’t know you were one for partying... like, at all. Which friend are you going with? Do I know him?”

Talk to me. Keep engaging in small talk, please.

“You don’t really know me well enough to judge if I am one for partying or not, now, do you? And you definitely wouldn’t know her. I don’t only hang out with people on our team, contrary to popular belief.”

Well that was extremely uncalled for. And rude. I thought that it was the first time he ever referred to me as part of the team, but that was an small detail to analyze later.

“No need to be defensive or rude, I was just asking.”

“Well, don’t.”

He was back to having that stupid blank expression on his face, back to not dignifying me with a proper answer, and that just wouldn’t do, would it?

I had a response. I had an excellent, spectacular comeback to use, but before I could actually defend myself in any way, the elevator dinged open. He couldn’t get out fast enough.

It was infuriating. So I did the only reasonable thing:

I followed him to his car to give him a piece of my mind.

Because of those immensely long legs, he almost got there quick enough to drive away and avoid me, but I would not let my stubby short legs get in the way.

I got my hand in before he could close his door, much like he did with the elevator. He still refused to look up at me but, the cheer disbelief and confusion on his face was enough of a response. Can’t ignore me now, asshole.

“You know, the only reason I don’t know anything about you, is because you pretend like I don’t exist. So don’t be needlessly rude to me. It’s better to keep not saying anything at all.”

And there it was. It was just tip of the iceberg, but at least I acknowledged it. I could actually feel a smirk forming on my face.

“Remove your hand please.”

And he finally looked up at me. All the disbelief and annoyance on his face were gone, replaced by that utterly bored and blank stare.

I actually wanted to scream. How was this the same guy that couldn’t stop talking and rambling enthusiastically about any and everything to anyone, the same person who had a perfect smile and warmth on his eyes for everyone else. How.

It was too frustrating. So I stepped back, removing my hand from his car door and walking towards my own car. It was better to just let it end already so I can wallow in my humiliation over this failed attempt at confrontation.

It almost put me in a bad enough mood that I didn’t want to go to the ‘club,’ but I had already promised Amara, who was not only one of my best friends but also happened to be dating that particular BDSM dungeon’s Mistress. There was no getting out even if I wanted to.

And I didn’t really want to.

****

A hour and dress change later, I was ready to go. This was absolutely nothing like the old outfits I used to wear for this events, but then again, I wasn’t the same girl. Not entirely.

So I opted for a silky black dress with a cowl neck and the best heels I had. It was sexy enough for a night of normal clubbing, but rather tame for a night at a dungeon. It was exactly what I wanted. It was less likely in that type of dungeon for anybody to approach or proposition me if I didn’t look experienced and in my element.

Even if I secretly was.

So I got ready, took my time to properly breathe, and left everything that wasn’t this night or positive thoughts behind the locked door of the apartment. I could come back to them later.

Right now, I was going to be happy and have fun.

*****

I was not having fun anymore. It was unfortunate, and I felt like somehow that this had to be the bad mood I was in from a particular encounter earlier. I just couldn’t find anything that excited me the way I wanted it to. I had made the rounds with Amara, and she had showed me all of the new rooms and new toys before every space got occupied with busy couples and groups.

It was beyond fun exploring before the spaces were being actually used, and imagining what each person would get out of those rooms. It was a pleasant and happy feeling.

But soon enough the dungeon got filled with more and more people, and each room was occupied and used. Most were open for all that wanted to watch, but each scene I passed failed to get my attention. It was especially more daunting and lonely when Amara left to put on a show with her girlfriend in the main room.

And as pretty and wonderful as they looked, I just didn’t feel like watching a couple as in love as Amara and Celeste performing tonight. It was just... a little too much for me. After everything, most loving was.

No, what I was looking for was not that. I was looking for the thing I used to crave. The thing that used to keep me going at all times of the day.

I was looking for fucking. Not couples making love, not couples having sex, not pet play, not elaborate scenes or people using toys so strange and complicated I couldn’t make out what was what.

I was looking for someone completely fucking dominating their partner.

It shouldn’t be impossible to find. Not on a Friday night, and not in a club this good.

And I did. I finally found it.

The dom had his back to the audience and the door with the little window I was watching through. He was turned toward his sub standing on the side while she spread her legs on the bed, her hands tied up to the headboard, showing her pussy to the audience along the wall. It was the perfect scene for me. In fact, too perfect.

She even looked a little like me, in fact. Same build, similar hair. It got me even more excited to watch this through. I took a deep breath and finally opened the door. Stepping in, I leaned against the door, having a direct view to the bed.

And god did I want to watch.

The dom still had his back to us,but I wasn’t watching him. Rather, I watched the girl’s cunt and how he was fingering it, not saying anything for her or us yet.

He has really nice hands.

Really, really nice. In fact I don’t think I’ve seen such nice hands since –

Not the time!

The girls face looked rather blissful, and I imagined three of those pretty and long fingers should be doing just the trick for her.

But then she did something that displeased him.

She moaned. Loudly.

The sound was immediately followed by a sharp slap in her face.

Fuck, that made me wet.

But before I could even entertain the idea of getting my hands inside my panties, the dom spoke.

He spoke in a voice I almost never heard directed towards me, but could pick out in any crowd.

He spoke in the voice of the man that made me so mad I almost didn’t come to the club in the first place.

“Are my fingers inside you too much? Cause I’ll fucking stop if you can’t obey and stay quiet.”

And I froze. I froze and panicked and had to stop myself from screaming by bringing a hand up to my mouth.

Because that was Spencer Reid, in a BDSM dungeon, dominating a girl right in front of me.

Taglist: @imagining-in-the-margins @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @gretaamyk @prettyricky187 @sunlight-moonrise @fanficlibrary82 @blazinvixen @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @httpnxtt @reidetic @hyper-fxation @blushingspencer @reidlusts @wishingwellwriting @redbullchick

I feel like I missed a lot of peeps but please know I’m still thankful ma loves

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oldsmobile-hotdogs · 3 years

Note

Questions for crossover jatp ghosts crossover fic: I hope Julian and the sunset curve boys talk about the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Yugoslav wars that happened when they were alive + Bill Cilnton. I wonder what pat and the band would talk about considering that they would of been kids when pat died? Do you think Julie would think of Les Mis and Hamilton cos Thomas and Kitty are from about the same time period as those musicals? I hope Julie calls Fanny Mary poppins.

Anon, or "Mimi", or "Lulu", or, heck, maybe even "Carl Birtles": Update: Not Carl Birtles. Carl Birtles sent me an ask and is cool, actually.

Stop. Right now. I'd say stop while you're ahead, but you are so far away from ahead at this point it's laughable.

For everyone confused, this is that "commenter from AO3" I joked about making a 2017-esque story time video about.

A couple days ago I uploaded the first chapter of a Julie and the Phantoms/BBC Ghosts crossover fic.

You know what? I’m gonna promo it here bc it’s my callout post and I can shill if I want to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30681704/chapters/76661471

It was generally very well received and I've had a blast interacting with readers.

Except for this.

Honestly, there's so much to get into, so I’m putting it under a cut:

This was their first correspondence (email notif bc I deleted the comment, the deletion to be explained later):

(Funnily enough, the links very much do not work on AO3, making the comment only more jarring)

I gave you *so much* benefit of the doubt when I saw this comment, and assumed that maybe you're an ESL user, just very enthusiastic to share ideas, and I pretty much said so in my reply, but know that at that point I'd already had friends- who fucking know about this, don't you dare think you're getting me alone- tell me that you were being very demanding.

Below was my reply (another email notif):

I'm gonna be honest, I think I responded really well to what I was given, and now that I'd replied, I was pretty certain the situation was dealt with. You, evidently, didn't agree, as shown by your reply to my reply:

A word of advice: when replying to someone, at least pretend like you read what they wrote.

At this point I'm left wondering two things:

What do they expect from me, if a general reply is not it?

How much more shit do they have waiting to tell me to put in my- reminder, JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover, rated T, comedic- fic?

In order to avoid finding out either, I freeze the thread on AO3. I'm liveblogging all of this on Discord.

It's then that I notice that the username on AO3 isn't clickable, so even if I wanted to block or report them I couldn't. I assume, therefore, that they've deactivated, and since them seeing their comments gone and getting angry was the only thing stopping me deleting the comments, I delete the comments.

It's also at this point I see "Mimi" never left kudos. I guess I don't deserve praise until I mention "Bill Cilnton".

There's relative calm for a short amount of time, until I get another comment:

This one is much kinder than the others and doesn't mention any specific, weird, historical events, so the extent to which I think this is "Mimi" is debatable, but bestie I'm weirded out enough that anything that even uses the enter bar unnecessarily and misses out conjunctive words like "because" and "and" is going to activate fight or flight. Update: Carl Birtles is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl was just being genuinely kind and I misinterpreted it and that's on me.

However, "Carl"'s case is not helped by the fact I can't click his account either, that AO3 offers me the ability to report it as spam, and that guess who replies to "Carl"'s comment: Update: Carl, having done nothing wrong as he has, is therefore also a victim in the situation that is being replied to by Lulu. It would seem Lulu is trying to correct??? some of Carl's commentary.

You must think I didn't get a 7 on my English Literature GCSE because you seem to underestimate my ability to compare two texts.

So clearly this is "Mimi", who has also just replied to "Carl". "Lulu" is also deactivated, and I've fallen off the end of my tether, let alone reached it, at this point so I mark it as spam. "Carl" gets to stay bc he said the idea for the crossover was good. Update: Carl also gets to continue to stay because I have it on good faith that he's a stand-up dude.

So at this point you've readily admitted through your inability to shake up your writing style to using at least one sockpuppet to convince me to talk about the "Yugoslav wars".

If "Carl Birtles" is the real(-est) of them, and "Mimi" and "Lulu" are the sockpuppets, by the way, I have questions and ideas about what you do on your free evenings and I want them neither confirmed nor answered. Update: This is slanderous and I want to apologise wholeheartedly to Carl for making assumptions about him and judging his character. Once again, he is not Mimi or Lulu. He's just a normal, cool guy.

And now you come to me, on the day of my daughter's wedding on a different platform, leave me an anon ask in the exact same format as you're so fond of, and expect any different ??

Well, yeah, then I guess I'll give you special treatment this time.

Here's exactly why I will never include anything you have told me to include:

Julian and the Phantoms discussing the Berlin Wall would be highly inappropriate for the largely fluffy, cracky tone of my fanfiction, especially given how recently the event occurred, how many Eastern Germans still experience prejudice to this day because they were born within the old borders of the DDR, and because of how nuanced this, essentially proxy war, was and how ill-informed a huge amount of the world is on the actual factors in play during this time and the Cold War in general.

Julian and the Phantoms will not discuss Yugoslavia dissolving, nor the fallout and conflict that resulted, because it was genocidal. There is nowhere I can fit Julian, pantsted, casually asking Luke “hey do you remember when the Herzegovinas were killed en masse by the Serbs?” Not gonna happen.

They won’t discuss Bill Clinton because all of them know who the current world leaders are: they don’t have amnesia, they’re ghosts. The fic is also rated T, so it would be inappropriate to make any explicit reference to “sexual relations”. None of them play saxophone.

Julie wouldn’t think of Les Mis or Hamilton because Thomas is Regency, not French Revolution, and Kitty is Georgian, not Colonial.

Julie won’t be calling Fanny Mary Poppins because she is perpetually stuck in a white dress, doesn’t wear a hat, doesn’t own an umbrella or a purse and was not the nanny or housekeeper of Button House.

The ghosts will not discuss the marvels of modern transportation or how long it would’ve taken to cross the Atlantic on dinghy because the ghosts have seen Friends. The house irl is on a flight path. They know airplanes exist. Alison and Mike pulled up in a car.

I will probably have the phantoms and Willie talk to Pat and Julian about being from the ‘80s and ‘90s. That I will actually probably do.

The Captain will not mention FD Roosevelt because, again, they all know who the current world leaders are, and I doubt he expects a ‘90s pop punk band to have any insider knowledge on the man.

It was interesting to think of the phantoms’ grandparents having been alive during WW2. I wasn’t lying. But there is nearly nothing I can do with this information.

But above all: both sets of ghosts have already adapted to modern life. Because the shows are shorter, and meant to actually be able to fit jokes in them.

If you want to see any of this, write your own damn fic. I don’t own the concept of a JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover.

What you will not do, “consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel”-nim, is hound me on multiple accounts and then change platform to hound me again. I’m absolutely not having it.

I have never received an interaction quite like this before, and I cannot help but wonder if this is because this is my first work in the Ghosts/HH/Them There/Six Idiots/Yonderland/Bill fandom: that this is where you primarily camp out.

So it’s at this point I ask the Them There/Six Idiots fandom if they have/if they know anyone who has had a run-in with this person or thinks they may have, or if anyone perhaps even knows who this is? Maybe I’m just one of many. Maybe this is a necessary fandom evil I was unaware of.

This experience has left me royally freaked out, as one might imagine, especially since my anxiety in general has been acting up due to it being exam season. I want to thank everyone who’s read my rambles on Discord and on here and even listened to them irl and offered support from the bottom of my heart.

I’ve enabled comment moderation on the fic. I will continue to write it, and I will put exactly what I, and only what I, want in it.

Believe it or not, I wanted to do literally anything else today.

Anon: Fucking Leave Me Alone.

Update: Just reiterating: Carl is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl is a cool dude and I want to sincerely apologise for having brought him into this mess, passing judgment on his character, and making him feel like he should stop practicing English online.

#ask #anon #callout post #ig #rant #parish notice #jatp #julie and the phantoms #bbc ghosts #ghosts #fic #fanfic #ao3 #literally any information about this would be helpful #six idiots #them there #horrible histories #yonderland #bill

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Nine

(Prevoius chapter found here)

Also there’s a discord now link here

You guys ready to hate me?

Zane has learned something new about himself.

When his power source is inspected and manipulated, it is a torture like no other. He can confirm that it causes more pain than anything he’s ever felt before.

In short, it is a very unpleasant experience.

No matter how he attempts to resist, it never makes a difference. He’s begun to fear that he may eventually fall victim to learned helplessness and become more easily manipulated, so he has redoubled his efforts in an attempt to avoid such a fate.

Still, it is difficult to hold on to his beliefs when every attempt is abruptly stopped even as it had barely begun.

Another shout of pain escapes him as his power source is roughly manhandled as the current roboticist studies it closer.

Zane takes slow, deep breaths as he attempts to keep himself calm and grounded. At the very least, they have not yet realized how similar he functions to the human body- or more specifically, how all of his sensors, like nerves, meet at his spinal cord- or his recreation of one.

He once again attempts to do something to stop the mechanic working on him, but the man only sighs and glares at him. “Hold still, Original. I’m busy.”

“My name is Zane,” Zane corrects, “and I do not take orders from you- or anyone else, for the matter.”

Another biting glare is his response. “Do we need to use General to motivate you?”

Zane’s artificial skin begins to prickle. They refer to Cryptor by that name. They are not… are they threatening to hurt the other to get him to behave?

With a shake of his head, Zane renews his defiance. Surely they would not enact such a threat.

“I will not do as you say,” he snaps, “and if you hope to use idle threats to intimidate me, such an effort will be a failure!”

The man arches an eyebrow. “Martha’s not gonna like that.” He mutters to himself, likely not expecting Zane to be able to hear.

Frowning, Zane attempts to see if he can determine the owner of the name. After compiling data of previous conversations he had overheard, he comes to the conclusion that Martha must be the official that is in charge of his torture- or as they refer to it, ‘training’.

He attempts to speak another time, but all that comes out is a choked out cry of pain as his power source is once again maltreated.

Deep breaths, in and out. He must keep himself grounded. He cannot afford to break any more than he already has.

With clenched teeth, he struggles against the bonds once again.

He must not give up hope. No matter what they say or do, he must remain strong.

He will not break again.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Cryptor feels confusion wash over him as he’s taken to the workshop. Typically they only take one of them there at a time- why would they have both him and Zane there?

Unease takes over him as he walks. The last time they had two nindroids in the workshop…

/“Stop, that’s not- STOP IT!”/

It takes everything he has to not break his emotionless facade. This is fine. He knows that the reason they hurt the other was because Cryptor was more valuable and that Zane is more valuable than him, but it’s fine.

He just needs to do as he’s told and follow orders. That’s it. Whatever they have planned, it’s just for show, just to scare Zane.

Nothing is going to happen. Its just that the memories have been re-hashed recently. There’s no reason for him to be afraid.

It’s fine.

When he’s led inside the workshop, he has to force his breathing to remain even. It doesn’t mean anything that Zane is held captive in the same spot that Cryptor was the last time, and it doesn’t mean anything that Cryptor’s on the same table that the previous captive had been. It’s just a coincidence, that’s all.

He’s lucky enough that they don’t notice how he shakes when he’s strapped onto the table or the way his breathing picks up.

He recognizes the official in charge of the training project- Martha, her name is- standing off to the side. But once Cryptor is fully restrained, she steps forward and speaks, addressing Zane.

“You seem to have once again forgotten your place, Original. Maybe this will teach you-“

Zane spits in her face.

There’s a few moments of absolute silence after the action, everyone in the room processing what he had done.

Zane still has an expression of defiance as he speaks up. “I will never fall victim to your lies!”

The silence is deafening, and a minute of it passes before Martha speaks up.

“Actions have consequences.” She says in a sharp tone, looking back over to Cryptor.

Cryptor feels his power source kick into overdrive.

Damn it, Zane! Why did he have it do that?! He may have just caused what would be- now they might-

Fear takes a cold grasp over him as he comes to the implications of what she might mean. They- no, they won’t…

But won’t they?

/“Make them stop! General- Gen- Cryptor! Make them stop!”/

He tries to remain still and calm as they open him up, but he finds himself breaking his facade in no time at all as they start digging around inside of him.

“Stop!” He chokes out, starting to strain against his bonds. “Don’t- I-“

/“Stop it!” The other nindroid had beeped, trying to resist the way he was being roughly and carelessly opened. “Let- let go of me!”

None of the humans had listened, and Cryptor had started to realize that this was more than an inspection./

There are disapproving and confused looks thrown his way, but Cryptor doesn’t care, he can’t keep pretending to be what they want, not to the death. He won’t die while adhering to their whims! He refuses to let his last moments be spent under their commands!

“Don’t you dare! I don’t- you- let me go right now! Right now!” He continues to struggle, but nothing works- he’s completely trapped.

He can feel his breathing picking up as he begins to reach a point of panic. He can’t- they won’t-

/Cryptor couldn’t do anything but watch as the other screamed in pain and thrashed in his bonds.

“Let this be a lesson to you.” Martha had said in a threatening tone. “It’s only because you have value that your fate is not the same.”

It was then that he had realized what they were doing to the other.

They were going to disassemble him./

“Let me go!” Cryptor shouts, biting back another cry of pain.

“So it was fake,” Martha muses, “I had suspected that.”

He can barely even hear her words, too focused on trying to escape, to escape the fate that the other had suffered to.

To escape what had been done to Mindroid.

“Don’t do this! Please!” Cryptor hates the way he’s begging, he hates the way his dignity is crumbling around him, but only one thought occupies his mind.

He doesn’t want to die.

/No matter what the other had done, they only ignored him.

“PLEASE!” Mindroid had beeped. “I- General, make them stop! Make them stop!”

“Leave him alone!” Cryptor had finally managed to get the words out. “Stop it!” Turing to Martha, he had continued. “Release him! Now!”

She had only shaken her head, an annoyed expression on her face.

“This is a lesson.” She had reminded. “Whether or not you learn from it is up to you.”/

“Leave him alone!” Zane unknowingly repeats the same words that Cryptor had spoken. “Stop it!”

Cryptor can feel himself on the verge of a forced shut down- the equivalent of a human passing out- from his panic, but the pain keeps him from it, it forces him to be there for every moment of this.

“It was my fault!” Zane shouts, his own panic in his voice. “Don’t hurt him!”

/“Don’t hurt him!” Cryptor had yelled. More panic overtook him as he watched Mindroid slowly come closer to what would end up being his demise. “It was my fault!”

Martha had given him an unimpressed expression, and Cryptor realized exactly what he was willing to do to save Mindroid.

“Take me instead!”/

“I should be the one being punished, please, release him! Let him go! He has done nothing, it was my defiance! Please!” Zane strains in his bonds, and Cryptor feels himself shaking at how similar the circumstances are.

“Please stop!” He sobs out, finally abandoning the last shred of his pride. “Stop it! I- Master, please!”

The torment pauses for a moment as the roboticist looks over at Martha, waiting for some kind of confirmation of what to do.

Zane stares with a look of dismay, clearly unsure of what to do, if he should give in the same way Cryptor had. When they make eye contact, Cryptor shakes his head ever so slightly.

His death doesn’t have to be Zane’s breaking point. He has a chance of still being rescued, but as for Cryptor…

Hopefully they’ll stop dragging this out.

Cryptor winces and flinches away as some of the tools come up to his face, but abruptly stops struggling a few moments later.

Did they…

Did they cut off his motor functions?

It seems that they did, because no matter how hard he tries, he can’t move, he can’t twitch, he can’t even blink.

He’s helpless, unable to even scream as his facial blaster is disconnected, leaving the eye beneath exposed- a very uncomfortable feeling.

“Let him go! What- whatever you plan to do to him, do it to me instead!” Zane begs, a note of desperation on his voice. “It was my actions, he did nothing wrong!”

He’s ignored, and Cryptor feels so much pain, pain that feels as though it should kill him as parts of his face plate begin to be disconnected.

Martha walks over to him. “You’re not human,” she reminds, “and this will remind you of that.”

Cryptor tries to struggle and move away, but he’s not even able to beg for mercy as more and more of his outer covering is stripped away.

/“Mindroid…” Cryptor had breathed out the name of his ally one last time as the lights in the other’s eyes had flickered out, his power source disconnected.

“You killed him!” He had yelled, fury mixing with his pain. “You- you murdered him!”

Martha only shook her head. “You can’t kill what was never alive.”/

“Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” Zane is still struggling, still trying to free himself. “Leave him alone!”

Cryptor finds himself wishing he could scream, to somehow express the pain he’s going through, because it hurts, it hurts so much!

The tools are taken away and his motor functions are restored, but he still can’t move, is still stuck in his bonds.

At least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Glancing over, he manages to catch a glimpse of his reflection in a sheet of metal not too far away, and what he sees makes him cringe.

Faceplate stripped away, he looks more monstrous than human, more machine than man- he looks like the kind of thing you would see in a horror movie.

When him and Zane are dragged back to the lockers, neither of them resist. Shoved inside and the doors closed, neither of them try to tap on the sides.

Cryptor can’t even see his reflection with the lack of light, but he knows that it’s there.

She said she wanted to remind him that he’s not human.

As tearless sobs wrack his body, Cryptor finds himself wishing he was.

#ninjago fanfiction #ninjago #ninjago zangst #the rights of a nindroid #zangst #[cackles in angst]#psychological torture #torture #trauma

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i-shall-never-repent · 3 years

Text

If you love a femme fatale in MDZS, here is a canon one for you.

This going to be long post with pictures, please remind yourself that skim reading or read just half of a post and then kick a fuss is unbecoming of an intellectual being humans suppose to be. Any discussion after finished reading the whole post is welcome. Also I’m not an expert on Chinese culture, just amateur with passion, and English is not my first language, if any grammar, spelling, or context error have been detected, please let me know, politely. I’m always willing to learn and improve.

From my observation, there is not a small part of this fandom salivating for a gorgeous seductive manipulative duplicitous bitch. Please believe me that we already have one in the canon, even with a fan. Though the correct term would be a Homme Fatal, a male equivalent of Femme Fatale.

Some of you may think of this man [Pic Source: Manhua]

No, not him. Not Nie Huaisang. This is a plot device for shock value.

You may have ask, then it must be this man right, but he doesn’t hold a fan? [Pic source: audio drama]

Also sadly no, not Jin Guangyao either. This man need to a kick and ‘son of a whore’ commentary from Nie Mingjue to motivate himself enough to kill him, too masochistic sentimental and not enough of ‘seducing’ evidence.

Homme Fatal, by the definition from Wikitionary, is “An ultimately seductive and dangerous man; a womanizer.”

Who fit this description most in MDZS? It’s this man, Jin Guangshan.

Let me introduce you to the real sexy manipulative scheming duplicitous mastermind of MDZS. With a fan. [Pic source: Donghua]

Now you might want to scream, this piece of trash, a man whore, slimy power hungry scumbag of the cultivation society Jin Guangshan? Are we talking about the same man? Yes, we are. And now I will elaborate.

First, look at his face, even though it might be universal agreement that he is not a good man, his appearance and his mannerism are indeed a seductive handsome man. Let me remind you again that these are his children.

From left to right: Jin Zixuan, Jin Guangyao, Qin Su, Mo Xuanyu [All pics are from Manhua]

They are undeniably, gorgeous. Jin Zixuan was rank 3rd in the young master list, that’s enough evidence of his good look. Jin guangyao may get most of his look from his mother - according to Guanyin statue that model after his mother’s face but people still thought it was his - but he still has his father’s charm. Qin Su is a beauty, even though we know nearly nothing about her, and Mo xuanyu’s face is definitely not shabby. Jin Guangshan’s gene is indeed worthy of a Jin’s name.

Second, Jin Guanshan is a dangerous man, might have been the most dangerous one on par with Wen Ruohan, even he was the weaker one in term of cultivation, at least you will have a gist if Wen Ruohan want you dead, you mostly still in the dark and not even wondering on your dead bed that did Jin Guangshan had a hand in your downfall.

People like to forget that this man was Lanling Jin sect leader, sit on the throne in the viper pit call Jinlin Tower. That sect full of backstabbing people, gossips, and a lot of maneuvering in the dark. I’m still curious how in the heavens Jin Zixuan grow up to be the man he was in that kind of environment to be honest.

I can’t remember that Jin Guangshan was the oldest one in his generation or not, but we could assume that he surely at least had a sibling of main family line, because we have Jin Zixun, a man in ‘Zi’ generation who close enough to main family to share the ‘Zi’ character in his courtesy name, raise next to the clan heir as a spare one, and he call Jin Guangshan “uncle” (Can’t remember which one between Bó Fù/older paternal uncle or Shū Fù/younger paternal uncle).

Which mean he already a winner of his generation, when the story start, Lanling Jin was his domain, he was the highest authority over there with no contest, we never see anyone from Jin sect disobey him. Madam Jin can only voice out her displeasure, but can’t do anything regarding of her husband conduct. Their marriage, arranged as they were, is what tied Jin clan and her family together, which mean her maternal clan also on a good term with Jin, she cannot kick a fuss, as a marriage in ancient time never a matter of two people, it’s a matter of two families.

And he was in process of securing his legitimated son place too. He raise his nephew as a ‘second best’, making sure that Jin Zixun will not have any ambition to ‘go above his station’ as we can see in the novel that Jin Zixun is Jin Zixuan’s fanboy or his lackey, he always praising or cheering Jin Zixuan, behave obediently toward his uncle, like that was his job. Jin Guangshan definitely win this one over already.

Now, one did not become a sect leader of a Great Sect and stay in power by being an incompetent moron. His habits of sleeping around may disgust people, but here me out, this is not unusual for a man of his status. His affairs with prostitutes [i.e Meng Shi] are easiest to take care, by the contract of transection, therefore he is blameless in the eyes of gentry class, they could only scold him for being ‘overindulgent’ or ‘lustful’, and he always go for the best one around, so some people might even praise him for his taste. Commoners and gentry class ladies [i.e. Second Lady Mo] are different, sleeping with those gentry class young miss not only a pleasure for him, it also could be a great way of getting information and blackmailing people too. Because if he let the public know which young lady he had already ‘conquered’, his reputation suffer nothing, but the lady in question will be ruined beyond saving, that’s one of the reason madam Qin decide to keep her raped quiet. And the lady’s reputation is link to her family, they will do many things just to keep Jin Guangshan happy and not to be shamed in public. Or if anyone want to have a problem with him, they still need to look at the social standing he had, both from his position as Sect Leader Jin and his extensive connections from all parties he threw. And if you think he would care about non-cultivators’ opinions, you have mistaken, to quote Tywin Lannister, "A Lion Doesn't Concern Himself With The Opinions Of The Sheep". Unlink Jin Guagyao who need his reputation to be spotless or else he’ll get a canon ending, the only ones he need to at least pretend to care are his cultivator peers of the same gentry class.

Sadly, him kicking Meng Yao down the stairs also ‘acceptable’ by the society standard of that era, because it’s Meng Yao who ‘trying to reach where he didn’t belong’ in the eyes of gentry, illegitimate children, if not acknowledged, have nothing to do with their father’s family. Cruel? Yes. But nobody care, this even become a famous joke, enough that people like Nie Mingjue know.

This prove that even he was a handsome man with a bad bitch vibes, many ladies still want to sleep with him, society still on his side, what a skill to have in one arsenal.

He was the only sect leader - in the Great sects categories - to get along with Wen Ruohan or play his card right, compare to Nie sect that lost the previous sect leader to a blatant assassination plot, but could only endure, the Lan’s Gusu was burned, Qingheng-Jun’s death, Lan Xichen need to flee for his life and his clan’s legacy, the Jiang’s Lotus pier suffer a massacre, and then you have Lanling Jin who sit on the fence with no damage.

Then Sunshot campaign happen, he let his heir lead the Jin force while stay at Jinlin Tower, he feigned ignorance over Nie Mingjue’s letter concerning Meng Yao, if Meng Yao die, he would have one less problem in his life, if he survive then Jin clan still get a soldier to be used, no big deal. And when Meng Yao become a spy, this also benefit him greatly, if the Wen wins, he could say that he sent Wen Ruohan a good tool and was force to join the Sunshot side, pulling “Look at how unwilling I was, the Jin not even try that hard you see”.

We already witness he jump in full force to reap the benefit after the Wen lost, Jin Guangshan is smart and skill enough to wait for the clear victory, legitimize Jin Guangyao to take the war credits, with a ‘Guang’ name to exclude him from succession line, with a connection to Lan and Nie clans via Sworn Brotherhood. The best of all is no one can publicly complain anything, Jin clan is the most intact great clan after war, Lan need money for their rebuild their home, Jiang need to be rebuild from scratch, Nie Mingjue lack seniority to scold a man of his father generation, Lan Qiren who is in the same generation lack a position to do so, smaller sects also need his backing to rebuild, want to be on his good side or risking annihilation when no one can help them. He rope in the Jiang clan by Jiang Yanli’s marriage, for the society, he is the benevolent man who honors the promise of two clans even when the Jiang is still in ruin, he is a kind man who help the younger generation, what a good father-in-law to be. Now do you feel that this man is scary? He come out of war, lying in his own house but still emerge with enough political power to maneuvering society, that’s an achievement on its own.

Then he look at Yiling Patriarch, his next goal. If he cannot control this dangerous man then let him be destroy and let him create the one that will belong to Jin clan. Not dissimilar to the opinion in Cold War related to nuclear weapon. First he sow a discord between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, play the insecurities of young sect leader who has no family backing, pressure him with society, even though losing his heir was out of the plan. He used his ‘spare son’, who has a great work resume for shady business, to do all his dirty work and supervise demonic cultivation experiment that if society found out he could have a perfect scapegoat, after all, it’s not surprise for ‘a son of a whore’ with ‘dirty blood and upbringing’ to be like that. Daggling his ‘love and legitimize’ over Jin guangyao’s head to ensure loyalty and obedience. Getting Mo Xuanyu into the clan also sent a message that ‘I can always replace you with any of my spare’. He let Xue Yang have fun with the Chang clan, a revenge massacre while tasting demonic cultivation experiment, win-win for then both, Nie Mingjue went to talk with Jin Guangshan on this matter but Jin Guangyao end up taking all the blame of his father’s conduct, wow. Correct me if I’m wrong here, Jin Guangshan was the one who order Nie Mingjue’s death wasn’t he. If yes, then his plan to establish Jin sect as the main power after the war is really clean cut, ‘get rid of the one I can’t control’.

Let’s be real, Jin Guangshan must be the best politician of his own generation, Wen Ruohan is too strong for this skill to be essential, but doesn’t mean he isn’t good (may be next essay then), Jiang Fengmian wasn’t a bad sect leader, but he just too mild for that political climate, late Nie sect leader was too careless in whatever spat he had with Wen Ruohan, and Qingheng-jun was a fail sect leader. Yes, marry for love must be so romantic, but then he just throw all his responsibility onto Lan Qiren’s shoulder, poor man, what a disaster older brother to have, madam Lan debacle must be a political nightmare.

Jin Guangshan’s mistake was he overvalue himself in Jin Guangyao’s eyes, and underestimated how low his bastard son willing to sink to before rise up, but need to give it up to him though, poetic justice of his death is so iconic. Not many people can claim they die while doing what they love aren’t they.

#mdzs #femme fatale #With a fan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #jin zixuan #mo xuanyu #qin su #jin guangshan #nie mingjue #my analysis #Real bad bitch of MDZS

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everygame · 4 years

Photo

Blaseball (Web)

Developed/Published by: The Game Band Released: 20/07/2020 Completed: n/a Completion: Maxed everything in the shop. Trophies / Achievements: n/a

Alright, if you’re here there are two options:

You already love Blaseball and just like reading about it.

You have no idea why people are obsessed with Blaseball.

Now, in the grand tradition of my article on Cinco Paus, because it turns out this tumblr shouldn’t just be about me finishing games and then complaining about how they failed me, I present:

Blaseball or: How You Learn To Stop Hating The Fact The Canadian Team Is Called The “Moist Talkers” And Love A Game That’s Usually Sold As A Communal Storytelling Experience (As Wank As That Sounds)

There’s a challenge here. Blaseball, once you’re in, makes you want to immediately gush about the cool things that are happening in the game, to tell the story of it, but unless you’re definitely tuned in to it, I think it can be somewhat alienating. Like here’s what I want to say, right?

That after the Raptors went out of the NBA playoffs I stopped caring (this is not entirely true; I stopped after the Nuggets put the Clippers out because spite/the lols) and was kind of looking for something else to obsess over in a not-too-active fashion. You see, what kind of got me into sports, as much as learning to enjoy the actual games, is the… theorycrafting? I might be using the term wrong. But it’s looking at the schedules and thinking, “ok, if they beat them, then they’re here, but if they get beat, then they might struggle there” or “trading X player for Y would be the best move… will we do it? Can we do it?”

It’s part of the reason why this year’s NBA bubble was such a success--they created a play-in situation for a group of teams on the edge of the playoffs, and then even though I don’t really care about any of the teams involved, there was so much drama, and so many ways for things to go, that you could spend ages just thinking about how X thing had to happen for Y thing to occur and then get excited if it happened or have to recalculate.

So: Blaseball. It is, ostensibly, a game in which you gamble on baseball blaseball games. I mean for the most part, I will be clear with you, that is it. It’s a game where you make bets and use your winnings to increase your ability to make bigger bets. It’s not even a particularly effortful example of this. There’s no clicker mechanics outside of one involving peanuts that turned out not to do anything, and all games are pretty clearly given odds so you can mostly fire and forget.

However. The thing you have to do with blaseball is actually the thing I have to do with a sport: pick a team and care. It’s not a baseball blaseball betting sim. It’s a sport fan experience. I say experience, not sim, because you will not be pretending to be a fan. You will be a fan, and if it’s for a made up team, who cares?

I think for a lot of people (the kind of nerds who play this kind of game) that’s a novel experience and I think that for people like me (who like sports) there’s an immediate sense that people are being ironic. You know; “blaseball” doesn’t feel that far from saying “sportsball” and I can’t guarantee that a lot of folk aren’t enjoying it… wrong. But then I also feel like people enjoy actual sports wrong so fuck it (I’d just warn you that if you go hard and join the discord--which is kind of necessary--you might find some people… annoying).

So you might think I’ve just described a few things at cross purposes there: I said you’ve got to be a fan for this to work, but then I also said that the NBA bubble succeeded because it made me care about teams I didn’t care about because of theorycrafting. Well, not exactly: what I’m saying is that in this game you’re going to need one (the ability to be a fan) to make the other pop.

I’m lucky here, because I’m Canadian (among other things) immediately and violently defending the one Canadian team in the thing is instant. I don’t need to put any effort in. I’ve never been the kind of guy who could just pick any team because I like the look of them, maybe you are or maybe you’re actually going to have to live in Charleston to want to support the Shoe Thieves, but let me say: if you are not American, the only correct decision is to support the Moist Talkers despite their terrible name (that I have come to terms with.)

Anyway, now I’ve given you the background, let me explain what happened last season to my team.

During a game, an legendary undead pitcher swapped places with our worst pitcher before, in another game, swapping places with a dog who used to be owned by one of our previous players. Then our fans started a campaign to make sure our best pitcher, who was trapped inside a peanut, would be idolised enough that they’d meet the “Monitor” a huge squid god, which most people assumed would kill them. At the end of the season, the squid cracked open our pitcher’s peanut shell, chose not to eat them and as a result saved them from the end of the post-season, where a vengeful peanut god turned all the players trapped in peanut shells (or, uh, who had Peanut in their name) into an evil team who then played the season champions in a RPG battle-style blaseball game (with hit points and everything) and cursed them. Then, at the end of the season blessings were handed out and thanks to having our best pitcher and receiving and absurd four blessings (including one which increased the size of one of our batters and one that gave a player a fishing net) we were suddenly one of the best teams in the league… with the danger that we might actually win the next season and be forced to fight the peanut god.

Now, as I said above, there’s a fair chance that seemed like absolute drivel to you. And even if it is exciting, I think the most important thing to do is to scroll back up and look at the screenshots and remember that the game doesn’t really have any graphics. Blaseball games occur in a tiny window with a diamond graphic, and so it’s a bit like watching just the corner of the screen in a baseball game. It is not particularly entertaining to watch games (although you can learn how to be captivated by it anyway). The game also, despite not being anything, can take up a massive amount of mental real-estate because you’re going to be checking in on it every hour of almost every day even though all you’re doing each time is clicking ten things and checking scores. It’s probably much too much, and it gets worse when you start to engage with the discord, because as a fan you really have to co-ordinate how to vote for blessings to make sure your team is always improving and you’re raising money for a good reason.

Alright, by this point it’s almost sounding like I’m trying to talk you out of getting into it, and I *do* recommend you don’t sicken yourself of it too quickly by checking it all the time. But most importantly I sort of glossed over what the genius aspect of Blaseball is: that being a fan has a weird, roundabout effect on how well your team does, and that reflects the fact that being a sports fan is not passive. When you watch a game you’re somehow putting everything into it even though you can’t affect anything. It’s why you spend all that time theorycrafting. Here, you, as a group, pool the votes you’ve spent all week raising money for and try and make your team what you want it to be. You don’t get to change what’s going on in a game like it’s Twitch Plays Baseball, or something. That wouldn’t be a fan. In Blaseball, instead, what you do is you try and make your dreams real via collective wishing. It’s only the slightest step up from just being a fan of a real team, and it gets to the heart of the communal experience of being a fan.

If I was the NBA, the NFL or very specifically the MLB I would 100% be looking at Blaseball and how to learn from it. I think there’s a crass version of it--imagine fans of teams in the NBA bubble could have voted to like… make sure their team got the nicest hotel rooms, or nicer meals or something--but giving fans a way to boost their team (outside of the brute force of their psychic power in a home game) by, I don’t know, checking into an app or otherwise engaging is a truly interesting (and honestly kind of disturbing, for people who hate the implications for tracking) concept.

Anyway. Try Blaseball! Pick a team, bet based on the odds, invest in snake oil, idol the best pitcher every game you check, but don’t check too much (and invest in the pitcher pendants, once you’re maxed buy votes and join the discord to find out what your team is voting for/get involved in the conversation. That’s it. But it’s pretty cool.

Will I ever play it again? I mean, it still feels a bit rich to say I’m playing this but I’m invested at least until the Moist Talkers win a season. Which could be this season. I’m really interested to see how much The Game Band expand this, too--I can think of a lot of ways that fans/players can be ever more empowered, but I’m interested in how carefully they could destroy the balance, and so many ways this could simply be more entertaining to look at and engage with (I mean the fact that you have to go to external sites for things like future schedules is kind of wack imho.)

Final Thought: There’s a ton of other stuff people like about this game--making up stories about the players, who they are, drawing them--and the nice thing is I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that and I don’t really have to. You can completely ignore the wiki’s fanfiction if you like and just deal with the reality of the game and how you personally react to it. Or you can really get into it and care about it way more than what’s actually happening on the field. I don’t care, I’m not your dad.

Even if I did just spend a long time shouting at you about sports.

#video games #web #webgames #blaseball #the game band #review #games #gaming #text #txt

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whoson1st · 4 years

Note

Are you in the official King Falls server at all? Just trying to get an idea of what's going on and who knows what's going on

Hoooooo BOISE.

So, long story short, yes. Yes I’m in the discord, yes I know what’s going on, and it’s all really, really stupid. I think that there were mistakes made on a lot of fronts, but I also think that the end result is, in a lot of ways, a long time coming.

I haven’t been responding to things I’ve seen on social media for the most part, and wasn’t REALLY keen to respond to this, but there’s also a lot of misinformation happening due to hurt feelings. There’s plenty of abridged accounts of what’s going on, and I’m pretty sure you know that. I’m taking this question on good faith that it’s genuinely asking and not setting me up to get torn down but...honestly, either way, I don’t care. I’m not on tumblr much these days anyway so it doesn’t really matter, and internet drama is just….it’s always dumb. But there’s a lot of “evidence” being put forth that is out of context or in bad faith, and the people who are being the loudest are a whole lot of the problem, so I’ll put in my account and opinions.

Anyway, I’m putting everything under a cut because it’s...a lot.

So first off, full disclosure, I used to be a mod on the discord. I left the team at the beginning of the year of my own volition because I’m an adult with a job and a life and things to take care of that aren’t that and needed a break. I’m still friends with all the current mods, and talk to them regularly, as well as being on good terms with the cast and creators. Just in case you’re dead set on hating any of them, you should know that. I try to keep a pretty good perspective, and I’m a little more removed than I was a few months ago, but I won’t say I’m totally free of bias either. If that’s what you’re into, just go ahead and skip this.

This all started with a piece of fan art, which honestly should be a clue as to how petty this all is. The fanart included The Dirt in a BDSM outfit as part of a larger work, and it was posted in the fanart section of the discord. It was bordering on NSFW, and the artist maybe should have asked the mods and/or put it behind a spoiler tag--which is probably as far as the mods would have gone had they been consulted, because it was 1) part of a larger thing and 2) canon compliant (it’s Jacob Williams, what do you want?). Neither of those things happened, people complained, the art was taken down. Then Kyle Brown, one of the writers, retweeted the copy that had been uploaded to twitter on his personal account--his account, not KFAM official--and someone complained that it made them uncomfortable and was not safe for work. Another cast member, Trent Shumway, replied that twitter isn’t a safe for work site, which it’s not. Which then led to both Kyle and Trent being socially crucified for not taking more care in what their followers see on their personal accounts on an open social media platform that is not dedicated to any single person or work.

It was already stupid. Really, really stupid. Especially since this is not a SFW podcast. It never has been. Everyone remember the third episode with Archie’s pomchies? And I know that certain aspects of that make people uncomfortable but if you are choosing to listen to the show regardless of that, it’s on you. An artist isn’t going to repaint something because you’re not a fan of green. And the SFW rule on the server has always been “within the guidelines of the show”.

So then, someone made this post that has since been deleted but I’m including mostly because if other people want to go ahead and pull receipts, I’m also going to.

Before I go ANY further with this, I want to say this: this person has been a problem for a LONG TIME. Months, at least, since before I left the mod team, and is honestly part of the reason being a mod became so difficult for me. They have displayed a pattern of abuse of the mods, the creators, and other members of the community on both twitter and tumblr, and have made people on the discord server uncomfortable enough that they either don’t participate or have left completely. This one person. And they have a bully squad behind them. And it sucks. But in the end, it was always decided that we couldn’t police what people did on their individual accounts or single someone out who hadn’t technically broken guidelines in the server, despite numerous complaints, because the mods and creators want to make everyone feel that they’re included. This decision was made...numerous times. After multiple incidents. For months.

I had my own issues with this decision, but that’s neither here nor there, and doesn’t really matter anymore. Because that post was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Kyle, misunderstanding the term, took it as a threat. Not hard to do, given the already heightened emotions, the tags, and this person’s history. So the person was immediately banned. The fact is, even without misunderstanding, that’s a really shitty post. That’s hating one a writer and a cast member and still wanting to pretend they have nothing to do with the THING THEY CREATE because this person doesn’t like what they said on twitter.

Following that, one of their friends--who had also been a longstanding problem--attempted to start a knockdown dragout in the general chat with one of the mods over this, and was upset when the mod in question first said they’d be happy to talk on DM but not on the server, and then ignored them when they repeatedly tried to carry on the argument.

Then they lit a candle in the channel the banned person had pitched a fit in order to form, as if the person was dead and not just a jerk. And then they made this post:

They also got banned, because OBVIOUSLY. Again, misunderstanding or not, that’s a horrible way to deal with it. You can’t possibly expect to call someone an illiterate fuckwad and still want to be included in spaces they created, much less EXPECT to be.

And then several other people who were attempting the same nonsense publicly. And then invites were taken away when the mods got word that there was a possible plan in the works to spam the server. And there’s a weird campaign to EXPOSE THE CREATORS FOR THE ASSHOLES THEY ARE.

And that’s...about where things are at now. A lot of people are upset and hurt across the board. And it sucks.

Here’s the thing. Mistakes were made. Kyle misunderstood Death of the Author, and has a tendency toward knee-jerk, unedited reactions. The mods should have been more on top of the problem and not let it fester. There were ways that this could have been mitigated and done better. There always are.

But this was always going to happen in some fashion.

Podcasts and podcast communities are not new anymore, folks. But it still seems like people have a hard time grasping their actual level of involvement in the creation because of how active some creators are. You’re free to say whatever you want, but you are not free from consequence. And you’re not exempt from being wrong. This isn’t just a matter of the creators of KFAM--or any work, to be honest--not being able to take criticism, this is a matter of people thinking that their criticism is 100% correct 100% of the time, and the entitled attitude that comes with that. KFAM isn’t perfect, I have my own criticisms of it, because I have criticisms about basically everything under the sun, so it’s not just blind following. But it is trust in the creators and the people around them to find the best way to tell their story, to the see their problems and strive for better. And we’ve literally seen that happen in KFAM, in changes made to Walt, in Emily’s storyline, in Lily’s...everything. In the addition of “guys, gals, and non-binary pals”. They’re trying. They’re not perfect, but they’re not deaf. They’re also not obligated or beholden to everything their audience says regarding their story.

The whole argument that they can’t take criticism is undercut when it’s being made by people who think that everything they say should be taken as gospel, and treat every instance where someone disagrees with them as a personal attack. The scope of hypocrisy here is just...breathtaking.

Also, when not withstanding some nonsense attacks, they’re all genuinely kind and friendly. I already admitted some bias here, but seriously, they go out of their way to check on people and respond to people and lift people up. It’s total horse dookie to act like they don’t care about their fans.

And as for the discord--god, just get a life. The mods there work SO HARD to make everyone feel included, to encourage participation, the create a positive environment for people to talk about the things they love and make friends. They have meetings and spreadsheets and calendars and work together as a team and with Kyle to keep the place working smoothly even though there’s FIVE of them running a HUGE server. The person who was initially banned was forever complaining about the discord and how the mods ran it, even while some suggestions they had were implemented. But that discord has like 1500 people in it, gang, it’s not about what one person wants all the time. And that person has their own server anyway so just go be unhappy there and leave everyone else alone. It’s what you were doing anyway.

TL;DR: There was a lot of manufactured outrage over something incredibly dumb, and some misunderstandings, and resulted in actions that had been looming for a long time and just finally popped off. Kyle and the mods aren’t perfect, but they aren’t the villains. The people who were banned have a history of negativity and bullying that led to the decision to remove them.

If anyone takes anything from this, please let it be that it’s a GODDAMN PODCAST. If it makes you angry, if you don’t like it, go watch a movie. Eat a snack. Knit a sweater. Take a nap. Listen to a new music album. Literally anything. There’s so many things to do in this life that aren’t LOOKING for things to be upset about.

Remember the golden rule, and don’t be a dick.

#kfam #King Falls AM #drama llama #I blocked out names because if you want to know you can find them #but I'm not here to call out names #because I just don't give enough of a fuck about them to deal with them later #and this is all really dumb and overblown #Anonymous

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

Text

Shattered Reflections

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence - Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Prince Hans is a mirror at heart, but wishes to shatter his reflections and correct his past mistakes. He returns to Arendelle, willingly surrendering himself to Queen Elsa's judgement. Uncovering truths, unforeseen circumstances and a bit of je ne sais quoi, bring the Ice Queen and the Mirror Prince together in a way neither of them would have imagined.

A/N:

(( This is a collaborative RP Fic written by lovely fellow Helsa shipper FOW and myself. We RP for fun and just wanted wanted to share this story with fellow shippers, especially all my lovely shipper buddies over in the Helsa Discord Server. Long live the Province of Helsa! Thank you, Beta Reader Friends, your help is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy~ ))

Chapter 1. Double Jeopardy

He refused to mention what had brought him back. In fact, for the most part, he outright refused to speak.

Hans stepped into the throne room with shackles on his wrists, standing tall regardless, and walking without a fight with the Arendelle guards. His ship had been flying the Southern Isles flag, but the other crew members on his boat claimed no affiliation, and gladly handed over both Hans and his horse. Hans was stripped of his sword and a journal he kept on him, with half the pages torn out and the other half blank, but otherwise nothing suspicious was found on him. He entered the room in his warmer blue coat with the motif after the waves reminding all that he was a man of the Isles, and he was an Admiral as well -or at least had been, once-. He had said nothing the entire way, only doing as the guards asked, and coming in without a fight to meet the Queen for sentencing. His expression remained neutral, as if he were elsewhere entirely. It couldn't be further from the truth, but very little of him spoke truths.

"Your Highness, we've brought in that Prince from the Isles. The ship was quick to give him and his horse up, and claimed no affiliation with him. We've told them to stay where they are until released but didn't see fit to bring them in." The Captain of the Guard explained. "He had half a journal, a pen, and a sword with him, and put up no argument to us taking him in. No argument or word about anything so far, actually." The Guard couldn't help but glance back with an irritable look toward Hans, clearly he would rather have had him hanged than keep him in Arendelle, at least then he wouldn't be more concerned about the safety of the Queen. As much as the guards valued human life, they valued their Queen staying alive more than the life of a man who attempted to kill them. One could hardly blame them. Hans just watched impassively, waiting to be addressed.

Even with the warning of the unauthorized ship (flying the Southern Isles Flag) approaching her fjord, it had not prepared her enough for his entrance. She thought the chances of the ship actually carrying him would be quite slim, since she thought the Isles wouldn't be foolish enough to strain their relationship further than the state it was left in, after the fiasco with their 13th Prince. Even with the slim chance, the unannounced vessel was still strange and made her extra cautious, she ordered the Guard to go investigate and to be ready for anything.

She really thought she would never have to lay her eyes on the auburn haired Prince ever again, so when he actually entered the throne room accompanied by the Guard her heart sank into my stomach, and almost forgot how to breathe. She was overrun with emotions, but anger was at the forefront of all of them. As the men approached her right hand clenched into a fist over her lap, her long fingernails burying themselves into her palm. She had regained the ability to breath as the men stopped in front of her, she was trying her hardest to keep her breath steady. She looked at the Prince straight in the eyes as the Captain explained, anger was boiling inside her but determined not to show it, she was Queen and she had to keep her composure no matter what (especially knowing what negative feelings did to her powers). Even if she wished to lash out at him, she believed if she gave him any kind emotional response, even if that emotion was anger, it would show him weakness and that was something she was NOT willing to show him and especially not in front of her Guard.

As the Captain finished explaining, Elsa closed her eyes for a long second, accompanied by deep breath for composure, she was determined to remain regal.

"Thank You, Captain,"she said with a nod, as she turned to look at him.

Elsa's piercing blue eyes turned back to the emerald ones of the cuffed man in front of her. She fought to keep her eyes from narrowing more into a glare.

She raised her chin up high.

She carefully contemplated the words she'd use before even parting her lips to speak.

"Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles," the name felt vile as it rolled off her tongue for time for the first time, but had managed to say it in a neutral tone, instead of the venomous one she wished she could spew. "What game do you think your playing returning to Arendelle like this?"

Hans seemed to think just as much about his response, as if this were a game of chess and it was his move.

"No games, per se." His finally speaking almost startled the guards, especially since he hadn't spoken yet. "Perhaps a very distinct lack of games, in fact. A lot of truth was missed, I am here to provide if asked. Elsewise, I am simply here. Dungeon filler or, perhaps, for the noose. Whatever pleases her Majesty. I would only ask that my horse be treated well. I only brought him for the companionship on aboard the ship. The men aboard the ship were only hired to carry me and put the flag up, wouldn't want to appear without warning." He made a clear effort to keep his voice and posture entirely neutral. No coronation charm or wit, no smooth manipulations via expressions. He was working at neutrality in its totality.

"My apologies for having carried a sword, It is only a cheap copy, it would break swiftly and isn't sharp. In the Isles it's traditional for a man to carry one, but not common to break one. it's purely decoration. For traditional gestures and the like. Such as the traditional gesture of surrender." He held up his hands to remind all in sundry that he had immediately surrendered himself.

'Provide if asked?' what would she or Arendelle ever need from him she thought as he spoke. Dungeon? Noose? Horse? Surrender? There were so many times that she wished to interrupt him as he spoke, to ask more questions, but she did her Queenly duty and listened to the end.

She knew why he was here (at least what he wanted her to believe), but she still didn't quite understand the how yet. She had given him back to the Isles so that they would deal with him as they saw fit, she doubted that they allow the man that had tarnished their reputation with her kingdom to return just like that. He must have surely escaped.

So out of all questions brewing in her head after what he had told her, the biggest question, the one that'd been floating in her head since before he'd spoken had yet to be answered, so she asked:

"Does the Isles know you're here Prince Hans?"

Hans considered the question. "They are aware that I am not on the Isles. I didn't inform them where I was going. I am a man of the sea, being on a boat is not unusual for me. I was advised against it, but I will accept whatever Arendelle throws my way, and the Isles remains unrelated. This is purely me acting on my own behalf. Had I not been who I am, I'd have been hanged in the isles, but I was stripped of my admiralty and am a prince in name only." He assured. He seemed aware he was speaking too much, and stopped, waiting for her response.

"Prince Hans, I thought it was very clear that I already made my decision regarding your treason," Her tone more callous then she would have liked. "The Isles would do to you as they saw fit and it seems they have done that stripping you of your title, so I don't see why you insisted on returning to Arendelle in such a spectacle."

She had no desire of dealing then and she strongly wished not to be dealing with him now. His mere presence shook her to her core, and she didn't even want to think of her beloved younger sister Anna crossing paths with this man again.

Her patience was wearing thin, and her powers continued raging inside her from the moment she laid eyes on him. Even now with Elsa having more control over her powers (her fingertips no longer accidentally freezing everything), her discomfort with the green-eyed man standing before her had turned the Throne room air frigid, almost cold enough to see her breath as she exhaled.

Hans was silent for a long moment. He seemed to be searching for his words, and for once was at a loss.

"I will ask a question..." He said quietly.

"If I had kissed Anna and it had failed, if I had been the perfect fiancee, if I hadn't gotten involved beyond delivering blankets. What would have happened?" He seemed genuinely uncertain.

"Anna always spoke as if it was her fault things happened. But then when she came back, it was 'Elsa struck me with her powers', suddenly, you were the villain of this story. 'True love's kiss' was what she believed in, but no matter what my intentions were, and they were good intentions initially, I knew it wouldn't work. Kiss or no, she'd have been dead just the same, so I made sure she couldn't blame herself again." Hans seemed genuinely pained to admit it.

He put his hands up and cringed back a little. "It sounds bad, and it is. My lack of love is not excused. But I am not a fool, your Majesty. The line of the crown doesn't work the way I pretended. I was never under that delusion. But it was easier to hate a treasoner, than to let you be the villain. Had I stayed out of it- Where would you have been? Out on the fjord, your sister dead and you wishing you were? My intentions in marriage were never bad. What they were, however, is... no longer important." He almost seemed to break his neutrality, but he quickly forced it back onto his face.

"I will not insult you with lies. I am, at heart, a mirror. I reflect others, either as they are or as they need to see. I change with my company. I have to be careful when I want to avoid that. I have no desire to lie to you further." Yet, that still didn't explain why he was there, did it? Or was it that simple desire to explain the truth?

He was afraid to continue speaking. He spoke too much already. He felt useless. A burden again. He would wait until spoken to, he supposed. He had no desire to incur her wrath.

His question had caught her off guard. Elsa's hands began to tremble as he spoke. A knot began forming on her throat.

Even if his 'good' intentions were a lie, there was truth in his words that stung her. It was true that he had not given his sister a true love's kiss and left her locked in a room to die, but he was right the person to blame for Anna's predicament was none other than herself. She was the one to have struck her beloved sister with a frozen heart, even if it was by accident.

Elsa could feel a stinging in her eyes. Hans was right, had Anna Frozen that day she truly would have been the villain, killing the sole person she swore to protect. He was also right that had that happened she would no longer have the will to live.

Hans truly was a mirror because the question he had risen were all fears she kept locked deep within her heart. And now that those fears had been exposed out loud by him, it made her heart sink, threatening tears to her eyes. She hated that his words had such an effect on her, she had been fuming with anger moments ago and now overwhelming heartache was thrown into the mix.

Her breath was unsteady, the large lump in her throat making it harder to breathe.

She moved her hands to the arms of the chair to support herself and keep them steady from the shaking.

She opened her mouth to speak, but felt her words lost and lodged in her throat. There was a long moment of silence. Elsa took a deep sigh trying to find her voice again. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even know what question she was supposed to answer, so she asked her own question instead.

Her mouth was dry, but she managed to regain her voice even if was meeker than before.

" Are you trying to make believe that you made yourself some sort a sacrificial pawn?"

Hans shrugged a bit, and nodded. "Nobody died. It was the best of all possible outcomes, though unexpected. I was simply hoping that anger would overshadow sorrow. The fact that nobody died was an unexpectedly wonderful outcome." Yet his face and tone remained entirely neutral, because he was still doing his best to put a sheet over the mirror, to hide the reflections and stop his imitating.

"I fully expected to hang for my crimes, and I was not afraid of that. Sailors, you know, are very good with knots and ropes." He looked at his hands and fidgeted, pretending to be very interested in the gesture. The truth of it was implied, but he wouldn't say it out loud.

"My initial intentions were simply... to not be in the Isles. I don't like my home country. If I married, I thought I would have a good reason to avoid it. And there was Anna, desperate to give and receive love, feeling like she had never been listened to. So I listened, and gave attention. I'm good at giving people what they want to see. I hoped that in time I would learn to love, I didn't expect it to be so necessary so quickly. But, mirrored emotions feel like real ones. My enthusiastic proposal wasn't pre-planned. If it was, I'd have brought a ring, or at least given her my signet ring from the Isles. There was a brief period that I considered that, but then the fjord froze and we had other, more pressing matters. If I truly wanted to take over Arendelle, I'd have brought a host of land soldiers. A crown can only be taken by military might, but that was never my plan. Not really. It was so easy to believe, though, wasn't it? I'm a very good actor. Sometimes I almost fool myself." He seemed lost in his own thoughts even as he spoke.

"I do apologize for upsetting you so. I won't ask for forgiveness, though. I don't believe I deserve that." A bit of personality leaked into his apology, and he stopped, raising a hand to his mouth and quell the mimicry. Still, the apology read in his eyes.

She wasn't expecting an apology especially one NOT followed by pleas for forgiveness.

Elsa was uncertain whether to take his words as fact or fiction created in order to doubt his villainy, the only thing she was certain of was that he was indeed a good actor.

Yet those eyes, his green gleaming eyes, always made her want to believe in his sincerity, since they seemed to be the only part of him that truly reflected himself.

She brought her right hand across her face holding her temples for a brief moment, before also accidentally letting out a deep sigh.

She finally spoke again this time more firmly than the last. "Frankly, Prince Hans...I'm uncertain if I can take any of your words as truth against your actions during my coronation," she paused. "I can not determine whether or not you are trying to deceive me and Arendelle once again." she pursed her lips. "I do believe the best course of action is to have you returned to the Southern Isles."

Hans faltered, and shifted on the spot. He seemed visibly uncomfortable, but he also seemed hesitant to speak. He wasn't neutral, but he didn't seem to notice that. If anything, it read as anxiety and uncertainty.

"I suppose I don't know what I expected." He admitted quietly, and offered a polite bow.

"As her Majesty decrees." He assured, unwilling to argue. But after a moment, he smiled a little, a dry and humorless joke at his own expense.

"Everyone worried about your icy heart, or the affliction of Anna's. But it was mine that caused everything, if unwillingly. Is that poetic irony?" He pushed his sense of humor back down, though it was perhaps a struggle.

"Perhaps someday I'll find a way to atone, and write to you. Would you read the letters?" But he offered his hands back to the guards. He didn't expect her to answer that question. He was ready to be taken away. He wished it had gone another way, but he had been wishing that from the start, and wishes were no currency of use in his world.

"Wait," Elsa let slip out. His mention of letters, had brought her mind to the journal the Captain of the Guard had mentioned Hans possessed upon his arrival. She had put it out of mind, too preoccupied with the man's mere presence to question it, when he arrived, but now it piqued her curiosity. "Captain, you mentioned the Prince had a journal on him when you detained him, correct? I would like to examine it myself," She didn't know why she asked for his belongings now, but maybe there was something to them the guards had missed.

"His sword also." She wanted to make sure it was truly a prop like he stated.

The Guard and Hans both seemed perplexed, but both shrugged, and the Guard send up one of his men with the items.

As had been claimed, the journal was a leather bound book, half the pages torn out, and the other half blank. Some semblance of old letters could be seen on close examination, suggesting that it was written in before, but it was difficult to make out what any of them would have been. It appeared to be a perfectly ordinary journal, whatever the case, with little but a few stray ink drips of note.

The sword was also more or less as described. It could be removed from its scabbard, and it could look very much like a sword, but it rattled with shaken even slightly, the hilt wobbled, and one could see the shoddy patches of steel. While there was heft, the thing barely seemed ready to support its own weight, and the edge was near too dull to cut a mild cheese. Only the hilt looked good, and even that had tarnish from the sea spray.

"In the Isles tradition, that sword belongs to you. I've surrendered it in apology for its unjust use. I will not have another sword unless gifted back by Arendelle, which I don't expect to happen. The Isles is known for its grim humor, and its love of swords in ceremony." Hans provided, like an encyclopedia, though he didn't sound like his forced neutrality. It was hard to say what tone he did have. Wistfulness? Faraway thoughtfulness? Perhaps fondness, but not for the sword. And certainly not for the Isles, by the way he spoke of them.

Elsa had tried to remain serious though out the interrogation of 13th Prince, but there was something about this silly surrender sword that almost made her laugh. Especially when he said that wobbly thing belonged to her now. She covered mouth with her hand to hide her amusement, but quickly coughed and regained her composure.

Nothing much was gained from the examination of his belongings other than a slight slip of humor and a question.

"You said you no longer desired to lie to me, may I ask what was in the torn pages?"

He noticed the humor and smiled grimly. "It's a shade better I suppose than presenting the shards from the bottom of the fjord, if they could be found." For the cheap copy was only meant as a ceremonial stand-in for the real thing, which Hans had broken in the events of Arendelle.

He thought about his answer a moment. "It's a journal, it depends on how far back. I might have written about Arendelle in the earlier pages, the interest in visiting. Daily notes about my travels, thoughts and feelings. I kept up on it while... returned to the Isles," There was an odd way he phrased that, and a slight flick of his eyes suggesting he didn't want to go into what his return was like. "The latest pages were mostly worry about my ill-fated adventure here. It is my custom to write my thoughts and feelings in my journal, then immediately burn the pages as I finish writing them, so no-one can read them. There is very little privacy in the Isles, between nosy maids, a mother who wants to be involved in everyone else's business, and twelve brothers who just love to pick on younger siblings. I quickly learned that anything worth thinking is worth keeping to oneself. I've learned to guard my tongue and silence my footsteps no matter where I go."

He paused to think a moment. "Have you ever placed a mirror in front of a mirror, and stood between the two? The result is an endless hallway, moving forever onward until the path becomes too curved or too dark to see. Mirrors in front of mirrors are a strange thing, and echoes of mirrors just as cursed. I try to avoid mirrors and echoes where I can. The irony is that I love the sea, where the water is an infinite mirror where sound always echoes. ...I'm sorry, you didn't ask, I can't imagine my waxing poetic to be interesting."

It was quite the contrary actually, though Elsa wouldn't admit to the Prince. In his moment of waxing poetry she was certain she could see his true self trying to seep out, and she was curious to see more of it.

With a deep sigh Elsa took a long moment to stop and just process everything that had happened in the throne room thus far.

Against her better judgement of returning him back to the Southern Isles, as she initially decreed, another idea crossed her mind.

"I know I've said the best course of action was to return you to the Southern Isles," she paused for a moment, questioning if she should continue with this outlandish idea. "...I have a proposition for you, if you wish to accept, you will be allowed asylum in Arendelle, in the Dungeon, of course, but it's the best I can offer."

Elsa got off her throne with his journal in hand. She stood an arms length away from him and looked him straight eyes.

"If you continue to write your thoughts and feelings like in this journal," she raised the journal high in her hand. "and allow me to read it, then I grant you permission to stay."

Elsa wasn't sure what'd come over her to grant Hans another chance. Maybe it was the anxious look that crossed his face when she suggested returning him to the Isles. Could it have been because he truly did keep her from becoming the villain of her story? Maybe he was no sacrificial pawn, but he had stopped her up at the North Mountain. Or maybe she just wished to be a merciful Queen and allow even the 13th Prince an opportunity to atone for what he did. Whatever the reason, a second chance was offered nonetheless and whether or not he chose to take it was all up to him.

Hans seemed hopeful at the initial change, if surprised. He didn't bother to hide that. But when she held the journal and suggested she read his thoughts, he hesitated, and his hands curled in his shackles. Perhaps he hesitated a bit too long. He almost seemed to reconsider the Isles, in spite of claiming he hated it there. But slowly, his hand uncurled again, and he opened it, offering to take the journal back again.

"I owe you that much. I accept your gracious offer, your Majesty." He gave a slight bow, but seemed perplexed, perhaps uncertain. No doubt his journals would be as guarded as his tongue- but he occasionally did have those moments of waxing poetic. Maybe some of his personality would slip through.

His expression slowly turned to a poorly-hidden wry smile.

"Just remember, your Majesty. I'm a sailor. Not everything I write may be suitable for a lady's eyes." He did have a sense of humor, even if he tried to hide it sometimes. He certainly knew his colorful language, and who said he didn't use it from time to time?

Elsa rolled her eyes at his comment, maybe she was starting to regret her decision already, but what was done was done.

#helsa #hans x elsa #iceburns #frozen #frozen fanfiction #Shattered Reflections

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aquilamage · 4 years

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hello and welcome to my self-indulgent pile of headcanons in a fic-shaped trenchcoat, please enjoy the show:

Sebastian has no physical mementos of his mother. When she disappeared, it was as though all evidence of her existence vanished overnight with her. His father never talks of her; if it hadn’t been for the way he’d snapped the first time Sebastian had asked, after, he might have suspected she’d disappeared from his mind as well. What Sebastian has is memories – a bit scattered and fuzzy in places, but fiercely treasured.

---

He’s never quite able to picture her, beyond dark hair and a calm smile that always made him feel safe. People had remarked on how much he didn’t look like her, though; he can recall that. Then as well as now, he’s inundated with comments about how he takes after his father. For a while that had been a point of pride for Sebastian, something he’d tried to capitalize on to become even more like him. (Which only makes things hurt all the more when the truth is revealed. He avoids mirrors for a week, sick to his stomach by what he sees and terrified even long after about what it says about him, whether he really has any choice in what he will become.)

His father, on the other hand, only ever sees his mother in him. Sebastian – well, it can’t really be called imitation if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but in every little gesture he makes there’s a spark of her influence. Even more infuriating is the fact that no matter how hard he tries, Sebastian can’t be made to stop caring – about things, about other people, about wanting to be loved in return - and Blaise knows that’s all her doing.

If there was anyone else around who remembered, they would have spotted it too. It’s just another part of the tragedy that there isn’t.

---

He remembers her voice most clearly, solid and kind and always, always gentle. She spent a lot of time talking to him. Even when they weren’t conversing, she liked to explain what she was doing, would give a running commentary as they did errands to keep him amused, and there was always encouragement and praise at his attempts, successful or no.

He’d liked most the way she said his name, slightly drawn-out and with the cadence of a song. It had made him feel special, enough that when he finally told her he wanted a different one, it had been practically in hysterics over losing that feeling. But she’d simply scooped him up and held him, and the first time she said his new one – Sebastian – it had been sweeter than the other one ever sounded.

Sometimes, she would switch languages to a soft Japanese, talking with a freeness that only showed itself in those moments. It had been like a secret code between the two of them, albeit one that they didn’t use around other people. Sebastian came to notice her excitement whenever he’d ask her for a new word, and did so often, repeating it back to her as she patiently corrected his pronunciation. A particularly memorable afternoon, he’d noticed her solemn and quiet in a different way than usual and ended up bringing item after item from around the house for to her to name, piling things up around her on the couch until she cried with laughter.

In the time after she’s gone, he keeps up the language as best he can inside his head. A reassurance, like he can pretend he’s still able to talk to her. Like she’s still there to guide him, if only in this small way.

And after one of his early conversations with Prosecutor Blackquill, he even picks up learning it again, emboldened by the new life and layers of connection it brings. (Plus, it would’ve made her happy, he knows.)

---

The other thing he picked up from her was music. Her enjoyment was utterly contagious, even in that informal bits and pieces that were all he ever witnessed firsthand.

Sebastian remembers sitting on her lap in front of a piano (the wheres and hows and whys of the context that brought them to that moment completely forgotten) his small hands slapping at whatever section of keys he could reach. She let him for a while, laughing softly. Then, she reached forward and began playing. He doesn’t recall what the song was, just that at the time he was absolutely certain she was doing some kind of magic. As soon as she finished, he stuck his own hands back on the keys. He tried to mimic the graceful movements he’d watched her make, but the sounds still came out as a discordant and jarring as the first time. Tears welled up in his eyes, and she’d wrapped her arms around him, tight but gentle. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Breathe with me.” And when he’d calmed, she walked him through the basic steps, guiding with his hands with her own. The end result wasn’t anything as complex as what she’d played, but it was music, and Sebastian fell in love with it instantly.

Mostly she’d sung for him: lullabies whispered in his ear before naps, echoing choruses of whatever was playing at the store they were in, and her own playful renditions of his new favorites after he’d asked for them a dozen times over. Sometimes, she even made ones up, just for him. Usually simple and lighthearted, based on whatever they were doing at the moment as a way to entertain them. But occasionally she’d encourage him to add on bits of his own, or even start them off. Even if he faltered, she was always nodding along, gentle encouragement and support to keep him going.

His father mocked him for wanting to study music in school, but let him, saying that it was fitting, given that it was just as useless and a waste of time as he was. Sebastian ignored it as best he could anything his father said. Besides, once he’d started he forgot all about it, swept up in fascination that devoured his attention for days. There was comfort even beyond his established associations, in the structured variety and endless possibility that even if it didn’t come as easily to him always managed to be worth the frustration.

Klavier gives him regular music recommendations, something to entertain the both of them. Eventually, he stumbles on one in particular where just listening to the first few notes brings him to tears. He doesn’t realize why, though, until a while later, when Kay offers to help him research his mother. They stumble on something with her maiden name and he freezes. It’s the same one as on the piece of music. He does a bit more digging and finds a collection of other songs she’d apparently started publishing in her early twenties, which stop a few years later – around the same time she met his father. (Neither of them might be around for him to ask, but he’s still pretty confident in his conclusion that that’s no coincidence.)

It takes him some time to go through them all, less from volume than the sheer amount of energy it takes out of him. Hearing her voice for the first time in almost a decade is like having every feeling he’d tried to hide from pulled out of him at once. Not that it stops him. Even as he sits sobbing with the same song paused for the twelfth time, eventually the tears dry up and he takes deep breaths until he can handle the comfort and the memories again, and presses play.

Some of them are harder to handle than others. The first time he starts up a song and recognizes it, could have sung it himself from how many times she’d whispered it to him when he couldn’t sleep, he doesn’t touch any of them for a week. When he gives in it’s to listen to that same one on repeat for a couple of hours until it feels as though all the emotion has been wrung out of him.

---

It’s no coincidence that most of his happy memories of her are just between the two of them. His father had still been the same person back then, and while things got worse after she’d ‘disappeared,’ he’s pretty sure now that it had more to do with her not being around to try to soften things than anything else. He tries not to think about the times of his parents interacting. His mother was always different, then. Quiet and smaller and that scared him the most, sometimes.

As he got older, he came to understand more of it, some of that threatening to taint even memories of just her. (Like the delicate touch of lace from her gloves, which he’d found so pretty. He didn’t realize why she always wore them until a few years after she disappeared, and only then after the pain had died down).

There’d been a time, a while after she’d been gone, when Sebastian tried to forget about her, to hide away the memories. His father had almost convinced him that she’d left because of him, that she’d gotten tired of pretending to care about him, been fed up with how stupid and incompetent he was. That he was the good parent because he wasn’t going to abandon Sebastian (no matter how much Sebastian would deserve it if he did).

Sebastian believed him, for a while. It was the only thing that could make sense to him. After all, if his mother really had loved him, why would she have left?

Sometimes it had just been easier to deal with things that way. If he pretended like things had always been like this, it was easier to stand. To pretend like how his father treated him was normal. If he didn’t know anything else then there would be nothing to miss – no part of him that could hope maybe things would change, maybe he could convince his father to love him too…

But sometimes not forgetting was what made things easier. Sometimes, when he was huddled by himself (in his room, most times) after some encounter with his father, trying to muffle the sound of his crying, he’d recall the times when his mother found him in much the same position. She’d coax him out and scoop him up in her arms, whispering: soft, soothing.

And in the end that’s what happened more, what made it worth the pain of remembering her. Sebastian never could really bring himself to forget her. (Even if he also couldn’t stop telling himself he could change his father’s mind.) Now, he’s grateful for it. Knowing the truth of everything, that he can trust what he’d felt from his memories, and that despite everything his father had done to him, he hadn’t been able to take his mother from him completely.

He builds his life back up, with the precious bits and pieces she’s left him, with the parts of his father he’ll never be able to fully escape (and the slow acceptance that it’s alright, that he can still be a different person than his father was), and by walking a path fully and utterly his own with the help of those here to guide him.

And somehow, he knows it will be enough.

#rambles #fanfiction #my writing #Ace Attorney #Sebastian Debeste #Rita Debeste #bastard man #still vaguely wip-ish but. I! want! to! share!#uhhh #let me go ahead and warning tag this for #abuse #emotional abuse #and also a bit of #physical abuse #(implied)#for bastard man being bastard man in the background

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godlivesonthemoon-archived · 4 years

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK (I don’t see lot of content with him so he’s not so popular I guess? :( )

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK (apparently it’s a debate but I personally find him HOT)

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK

Are they underrated? YES / NO / IDK

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO (first one to introduce observation haki so heck)

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL

How strictly do you follow canon?

I’m trying my best to follow his canon character and the way he reasons, but I have to somehow make sure to be able to interact in several verses as well, which could end up turning him as a more canon-divergent character sometimes. We don’t know much about Enel, especially his past, it’s a vast playground which has never really been explored, so it gives me liberties regarding his interpretation and my own headcanons. I do believe I try to portray him in the most canon way possible, but I’m not Oda, and I didn’t create his set of mind in the first place! That’s just me trying!

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.

Enel is an asteroid suddenly entering your world, highly different from the casual villain you could encounter, with a set of mind different from what you have ever seen before! Egocentric prick full of himself and able to harm your muse either with in verbal joust or physically? For sure! You want to have debate about your muse’s most profound beliefs and challenge their abilities to think and manipulate someone else? He’s always up to have a conversation and will provide you so many topics to debate that you could stay here for years without even being done. Enel is the impredictable character you need to have spice in your life. He drifts between a terribly strong God Complex and a very human persona, leading you to various interactions where I dare you not to feel anything. Because that’s it’s his best capacity : ENEL WILL MAKE YOU FEEL SOMETHING, and either you will love it, or hate it, but you can’t remain neutral when he’s around.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).

Even if you believe he could be nice and understanding towards your muse’s sorrows, Enel remains a villain and probably one of the most unpredictable. He’s not here to be kind, not here to waste his time either. He’s more often harsh and insulting than really patient and open-minded. Could he really love your muse one day? That’s a harsh question, and he will probably disappoint them if you expect something more casual around him. Enel loves to destroy his environment, challenge his RP partners (all of them, not necessarily on a romantic ship), and your muse could walk out of his garden, thinking that they waste their time with someone like him.

What inspired you to rp your muse?

I JUST LOVE ENEL SO MUCH.

I have always been hooked by complicated characters in the first place, and when I started RP with my OC when I came here, I was already interested in having another canon character. I wanted to roleplay with him, and no one else. Enel is such... a forgotten character? We forget about his haki, we forget about his set of mind, we forget about his combat skills (DAMN he masters martial arts so WELL), we forget about his impressive logia fruit... Enel is a smart man, cruel and impetuous, but his philosophy is so interesting to develop, I’m just a weak girl for this boy.

What keeps your inspiration going?

Definitely the numerous roleplay I have, and the awesome friendships I developed with awesome muns!! I have received so nice comments regarding my portrayal that it’s a real pleasure to keep musing with him. Really, guys, thanks a lot for everything!!

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you do your character justice? YES / NO (doing my best)

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO

Do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO (I’m tough for sure but I’m also a bby)

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?

Only if it’s constructive and genuine in the first place! I totally get that people might find my portrayal divergent regarding his canon character, but argumenting is always important, and it’s still a game... I wouldn’t actively criticize someone in the first place because I don’t agree with the way they portray their muse ; everyone should be able to bring more diversity in the RP world and have fun in the way they want to play, as long as they’re having fun! So yes, and no, it really depends and I guess criticism comes with trust between two mutuals.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?

I’m a sucker for these questions! I’m often surprised by a lot of them, and it allows me to explore topics I didn’t think about!

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?

Like the criticism part, it depends on the way that person is talking to me! We can all have different opinions regarding characters, it must remain genuine. Sure we can have two points of view, that’s even amazing! But it doesn’t mean I will change my headcanon, because this is the way I like to see my muse :) People needs to respect my own creativity, as I respect theirs when it comes to their muses, it’s simple.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?

I just block and don’t care anymore. We can’t all get along for sure, and I’m too old to actually change the way I want to portray my muse, and also... too experimented on the RP world to turn it into something toxic again. You don’t like it? That’s alright, let’s just live our lives in peace, there’s no point in continuing interacting and seeing each others. Nothing personal! Just having some peace :)

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?

You can hate Enel, it’s absolutely normal to find him arrogant and despicable, but people need to draw the line between ENEL’s actions and ME as a mun. I’m not him, I’m writing how he WOULD react to something, so I don’t want to suffer from people’s hate towards me, or disappointment I guess if the RP relationship doesn’t go the way they want/hope? I have an EXTREME tendency to really separate my RP passion and my real life thanks to former experiences, which means I’m definitely able to play with my muse with a completely detached set of mind (it’s actually the only way for me to play villains XD). I’m perhaps not the best partner to interact with if RP gets under your nerves too much, or if you take things too... personally. Because actually, I have no more patience for this...

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?

I don’t mind, because english isn’t my first language in the first place! I’m always trying to write readable contents, and even if I have a good level in english, mistakes happen so... I really don’t mind if someone corrects me!

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?

I’m easy-going, an extrovert for sure, it’s easy to actually reach me, and it’s easy to talk to me. I won’t pretend though that I don’t have my flaws! Sometimes I’m not in the mood to talk on discord or here, and I have the terrible need to withdraw into myself after a long day at work. Though, I love interacting with people, musing, talking about everything!! I’m always up to share a chat! :)

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

➸ Tagged by : @seraphiixa (thank you ma’am!)

➸ Tagging: @chillin-at-partys-bar @kingofdesert @godsnaturalenemy @mightyxsprout and whoever is interested!

#⚡️god always wins the game | meme #⚡️deeper in the verse of spirituality | character study #⚡️the woman behind god | ooc #; thanks for the tag! that was a long introspection :P

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daxherrera · 4 years

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I fell for the world’s best troll

Tl;dr: If you’re about to say “I’m not reading this, it’s too long! Hoes mad!” Go ahead and fuck off immediately because you ain’t gonna enjoy this one.Many people have speculated on my “goal.” Including Dax. “Jamie just wants attention!” I do have reasons for all of this. But hoping that I’d inspire the support of a group of people predisposed to believing Dax would be idiotic. Your fans are not my audience.There is nothing that has happened so far that I didn’t already know would happen. Nothing said that I didn’t already know would be said. I can also tell you that destroying TDS is nowhere near my radar, either. And even if it were, it would be a fool’s errand. No, I’m very sure Dax will be just fine. And I want him to be, if you can believe that.Now, moving on to something I’ve waited a very long time for.I’m sure most are unaware how difficult it is to make Dax commit to an actual response to a question or an accusation. And when he does respond, it’s usually something weird and a little off-topic, making it confusing to say anything back. So to get him to finally respond to some of this is an opportunity I don’t plan on letting slide. Allow me to address the following!“Jamie is blaming Dax for ruining her marriage and she needs to take responsibility for it, instead.”I do not blame Dax for ruining my marriage. I blame Dax for offering me a fake option. One that, if I were to choose it, would have irrevocable consequences to my life. At the time, though the decision caused me an incredible amount of stress and pain to come to, it was true that he was the one I wanted to be with. BUT. If he hadn’t pursued me; if he had not given me the option, I would have continued my life without having it cross my mind. And maybe my marriage would have failed anyway. I would have much preferred it to have ended that way. The cruelty is in the fake option. It doesn’t matter how dumb I was in believing it was real.“I offered her room & board, and then some.”No, Dax. You didn’t. You offered me a full-on relationship. And you spent two months asking me to take your offer. And as soon as I did, you pulled the rug out from under me. I did not come to California for room & board. And I sure as hell NEVER would have come to California to be in a “thruple.”“I know that her husband kicked her out of the house for running up credit card debt and secretly being addicted to adderall five months before I ever met her, that’s about it!”Dax, I’m sorry but you can not use my embarrassing details against me in order to scare me, the way you do to everyone else. And you certainly can’t do it WHILE you’re telling lies.I told you all about the adderall. How it was my way of shutting out the pain of Chris and Alyssa’s relationship, and the way both things spiraled. You went-on many times to tell me how fucked up it was, the way he was treating me. You knew it wasn’t a secret, either. Never once was it a secret.I told you about our money issues with the business and how he blamed them all on me. You told me I was being too hard on myself and that I had, and I quote, “beaten. wife. syndrome.”You knew all about my money problems, including the fact that I didn’t have enough credit, after the separation, to even get a credit card because we always put credit in his name. You knew that I hadn’t even HAD a credit card since 2009. This may be an honest mistake on your part, though. Maybe you’re confusing me with the $9,000 in credit card debt your other girlfriend racked up recently. Not including the nose job she was petrified to tell you about for some reason. It’s not even that big of a deal.Additionally, to say you had limited knowledge of “why” I was kicked out is just straight up bullshit. In fact, you had a whole list of “it’s not your fault” theories as to why. Including, but not limited to, “He just wanted you gone so he could play ‘King of the Mountain’ at his small-time little CrossFit box in nothing Tyler, Texas.”Don’t worry, I won’t be as critical of your own substance abuse, though. Or the past substance abuse of those close to you. Because you taught me to have a very different perspective on it. Formerly, your generous acceptance and understanding of substance abuse and why it happens impressed me. I’m very sorry to see you all of a sudden use it as a weapon.“Kicked out of the house.”Do you really want to use kicking someone out of the house as a means of ridicule? Let’s just forget that you at least pretended to side with me on that…You kicked your girlfriend out of the house right in front of my face.And then proceeded to defile every inch of that house with me while crying, “Poor Marie! She’s so crazy and she can’t help it!” But let’s just compare the two scenarios, shall we?Dax- Breaks up with Marie, all for me to see (for the 2nd of at least 5 times total) and makes her pack her things and leave the house immediately after getting back from Ojai. Tells me that it is “very sad, and very permanent” and repeats this sentiment many times to me in the following weeks.Chris- Asks me for a temporary separation after some discord in the last year of the 15 years that we spent together, so that we can get some space before trying to work things out. the temporary nature of this being clear to not only he and I, but also understood by both Dax and Marie. I never gave either of them a differing position. In fact, Dax, more than once, threw a tantrum about this. There’s a whole episode writeup that he wrote out of anger over this. Told me he “forgot what it was like to write with hate in his heart.” Before profusely apologizing. Another time, he told me that he didn’t just want to be a “consolation prize” if Chris and I didn’t work out. I had to placate him with a sonnet about how I “couldn’t see my future anymore because of him.”So tell me again, what it proves that I was “kicked out of the house.”“It is profoundly sad to me that Jamie is letting Jessie use her like a click bait cum rag after showing distain for him previously.” (Oh also, “my intuition was correct” whatever in the fuck that means)I showed you very public and prolonged adoration and what did you treat ME like? A girlfriend? No. The only person you ever said I was your girlfriend in front of was your drug dealer. She hates you now, BTW. After I kept going to her to get a myriad of things to dull the pain of what you put me through. All the Zanax she sold me because I told her, “I just want to be able to sleep.” Go ahead and make fun of me, though, for that. For being dumb enough to actually have believed you. And your show. And all the talent you had that didn’t include shitting on Maddox. Go ahead.“This isn’t embarrassing! Look at all my game!” “Why is Jamie spiraling out of control? It’s because a lifetime without my love is torment.” etc.Thank you. Thank you for finally showing me a glimpse into why you’ve done all of this. I admit it. You’re such a chad, Dax. You’ve got bikini babes nuking their lives to be with you. Congratulations are in order. I’m sure lots of your fans will be very impressed. I know I am. Go ahead and screenshot it. Share it. Quote it.Personally, I’m glad to see you lean-in on this. For all the times I asked you if this is what you did to me, or insisted that I must have been some trophy for your ego- only to have you blow the fuck up at me; swore that I was being crazy; swearing that every single word you ever said to me was true- all the way through the end… Thank you for finally sacking up and admitting this. Maybe you couldn’t admit it to your biggest fan, but it seems you can to the rest of them.And I’m not even being sarcastic. THIS… this, I’m cool with. “Jamie was such an idiot to believe Dick.” I‘m pretty cool with that, too.But next time you feel like asking someone to be with you, don’t lie so much about who you are. That way, you’ll be way less likely to have some psycho broad wallowing in pain and confusion over some fake version of you, for any amount of time, that doesn’t even exist.You’re Dick Masterson, after all! What in the heck else should I have seen in you??! Definitely NOT what it was that I did…

#dax herrera #daxherrera #dick masterson #dickmasterson

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xsnappedxhummelx-blog · 5 years

Text

text messages as a para || kurtbastian

Who: @northsidesmythe && @gleedalekurt

What: Text messages between Sebastian and Kurt cause Kurt is a little desperate for help.

Mentions: @hartdalemd & @marleyrosens & @ghoulishboyhummel

When: 17th May 2019

Notes: Did on discord as Mary’s Tumblr did not want to play ball last night

KURT: I might regret this but.. KURT: Are you sure you don't know of any jobs in this town and nothing about a gardener or a pops server.

SEB: I love the fact that our conversation gets to start with those words. SEB: Damn. You took all the possibilities off my hands, Hummel. SEB: Jk. I might know of something, but I don't think you're going to like it.

KURT: Well with you, I have to be careful. KURT: But you were my best choice for this. KURT: You really know of something? KURT: Why won't I like it?

SEB: Damn right you should ;) SEB: Don't you mean the next best thing? SEB: I do. SEB: Because in the end, it means you would be working for me. With me, but for me.

KURT: I've heard what you and my brother did KURT: No I mean you were my best chance at getting a reply KURT: What do you mean? KURT: With you but for you?

SEB: Babe, you haven't heard HALF OF IT ;) SEB: I don't know if that should make me feel flattered, or make feel sorry about you. SEB: I've been thinking about getting an assistant.

KURT: I don't want to hear the other half, thank you. KURT: Don't feel anything... Can't say the town is desperate to talk to the man defending his 'murderer' father KURT: Assistant? KURT: You'd have me as an assistant?

SEB: Shame. You could learn something. SEB: You seem to forget I have a father like that too. SEB: Yes. I've been handling business myself since my father left town. And as perfect as I am, there are things that sometimes tend to slip through my fingers.

KURT: I'll continue to take lessons from my boyfriend KURT: Yeah sorry... KURT: I guess cause dad is accused of like 30 murders I just.... KURT: It was insensitive. KURT: Erm, but like me? KURT: I thought you couldn't stand me.

SEB: Yes, you were. SEB: if your father had hurt Aaron you wouldn't be talking about this so lightly. SEB: Moving on. SEB: Uh, I don't? But that doesn't mean that I don't think you could be of help. Plus, you need the money, correct? SEB: It'd be a win-win for both of us.

KURT: My father wouldn’t hurt Aaron and whoever did this actually hurt people I knew. KURT: Such a charmer KURT: Well yeah, I’m pretty short on cash right now... does it pay well?

SEB: I didn't think my father would kill my sister either, yet here we are. SEB: I know I am, thank you. SEB: I'd say that's depnding on how well you do on the job, but I can asure you minimal pay and benefits to start.

KURT: Well, I am sure my father didn't do this. KURT: Am I seriously considering this... KURT: Would you like, not tell any one?

SEB: Lucky you. SEB: I don't think you could do better, at least not for now. SEB: Jesus. What is it with people wanting me to keep their secrets? I must be doing something good. SEB: You have my word.

KURT: Yeah I'm so freaking lucky KURT: No you are right I can't do better right now KURT: Fine. I'll do it KURT: When do I start?

SEB: Wise choice. SEB: How about tomorrow morning? Around 8-ish?

KURT: Just... Don't make me regret it.... please KURT: Tomorrow morning is fine? KURT: Do I attend an office or do I just come to your house?

SEB: I'm really not that bad of a person, Kurt. Sorry to disappoint you. [DELETED] SEB: It's all up to you, Hummel. SEB: It's fine. SEB: Come to the factory. I'll let you in all the details.

KURT: I already said yes didn't I. KURT: Please just keep this between us until I can tell Aaron and Ale KURT: I'll be there bright and early, boss.

SEB: I already said I wouldn't tell, didn't I? SEB: See? You're already getting it.

KURT: Yeah you did. Thank you. KURT: Do you honestly think I'm going to call you boss... KURT: I'll stick with Sebastian

SEB: You said it first.

KURT: First and last time... KURT: Thank you though. KURT: I'll need to keep busy when I move back to Aaron's.

SEB: You two already kissed and made up?

KURT: No, I'm still staying with Ale. KURT: I've got to go back at some point

SEB: Good point. SEB: It's not really good to leave him alone while he's recovering. [DELETED]

KURT: I can't go back till I know he's sober KURT: If he locks me in that room again..... KURT: I just can't.

SEB: I'm sure he wouldn't do that again.

KURT: I hope not KURT: It's not like he's alone. KURT: He's got Marley there

SEB: Really? They moved in together already? Building the love nest and all that?

KURT: No thank god. KURT: I think she is looking after him while I won't. KURT: She does go there a lot

SEB: Makes sense. They're close, and all that jazz. SEB: What'd you mean "no, thank god"? You don't like her?

KURT: Yeah they are. KURT: I'm not her number 1 fan. KURT: And I can't quite out my finger on why...

SEB: Well, what'd you know? At last we have something in common, Hummel.

KURT: You don't like her?

SEB: Most definitely not. She's always had it for me and she pretends for me to simply sit and take it. As if. SEB: And I don't buy her whole sweeter than honey act.

KURT: She likes some people and not others. KURT: She seems like she could be someone I'd like KURT: If I end up forced into it

SEB: I can tell that much. SEB: That should be fun and painful to watch.

KURT: You won't get to watch KURT: You are after all my boss now KURT: Can't say I'll be rushing to invite you for Sunday Lunch

SEB: I'll just have to open my laptop and there I will see you, getting all wet over her oh so cute and sweet smile. SEB: Sunday Lunch? Is that a real thing?

KURT: Getting wet? KURT: 100% gay KURT: She does not do anything for me. KURT: Yeah sure it is... A roast dinner. Used to cook it for dad all the time

SEB: It was just a metaphor, jeez. SEB: You're worse than she is. SEB: Ah. That's nice.

KURT: Worse? Gee thanks. KURT: Now you definitely don't get invited.

SEB: Now how would I ever be able to survive?

KURT: Trust me, if you ever tried my cooking... You'd be asking that as a serious question.

SEB: Aaron told me about your cooking. Said he didn't wish to bother you much, but that he loves it.

KURT: He had better have said that! KURT: I'm a really good cook

SEB: He did. SEB: I can cook too, you know.

KURT: He's a good guy KURT: You can? That surprises me KURT: Bet it's not as good as mine

SEB: He is. SEB: Why? I'm French. Who else could cook if not me? SEB: We shall see about that.

KURT: I am not booking you meetings with him... KURT: I don't know, I imagined you had a chef growing up. KURT: Will we now?

SEB: Excuse me? SEB: I did. But I also had my grand mère with me, and she taught me how to cook. SEB: Absolutely.

KURT: I'm not booking you appointments to see Aaron. KURT: See if I had a chef, I'd never have cooked. Once mum died in was pretty much the chef of the house. KURT: Don't cry when I'm crowned best cook

SEB: Why in the fuck I would need an appointment from you to see him? SEB: You had to. What else could you do? SEB: i'll do my best to refrain myself.

KURT: As your personal assistant I assumed I'd be helping with your schedule KURT: I didn't have any other choices. KURT: Im sure you will.

SEB: I see. Look at you being so diligent. Don't worry. Me seeing your brother wouldn't happen during work hours SEB: It happens. No need to get mushy about it.

KURT: Please... Spare me the sordid details. KURT: I'm not mushy...

SEB: Glad to. SEB: You know you are. SEB: You know why those anons pick on you like they do? Because they know they get to you. You, who's always being overdramatic over everything. They know, and they grab on that.

KURT: Excuse you I was doing fine until they were being extremely mean about me to Ale. KURT: That was when it hurt. KURT: I've not been dramatic recently KURT: Considering my dad is in jail, I could be worse

SEB: Oh please, you know you are. SEB: But either way, it's your problem.

KURT: Gee, I already regret our arrangement

SEB: Au contraire. You will love it.

KURT: I wouldn't use the word love like that.

SEB: Why not?

KURT: I'll be working for you.... KURT: Can't imagine this is going to be a walk in the park

SEB: So? Are you scared you're going to fall for me, Hummel? SEB: On that agree. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

KURT: Fall for you? Please... Have you seen my boyfriend.... KURT: They do and trust me if I wasn't desperate, i'd not have asked

SEB: OF COURSE I HAVE. SEB: Still, it could happen. SEB: Then you know exactly how I feel.

KURT: So then you'll know how lucky I got, right? KURT: Wouldn't give him up for anyone. KURT: We seem to be in the same boat

SEB: Luck is all you have, Hummel. SEB: Please refeain yourself from bursting into a pop song.

KURT: I have so much more then luck Smythe. KURT: I'm sure I will, wouldn't want to show you up with my voice as well as my cooking

SEB: As my employee you will learn the value of silence, Hummel.

KURT: Will I now

SEB: Just wait for it.

KURT: Why are you trying to sound threatening

SEB: This isn't me sounding threatening. Trust me

KURT: Are you seriously going to be the boss from hell?

SEB: Let's call it a trail period. See if you have what it takes.

KURT: Oh come on... It can't be that hard.

SEB: Let's hope it's not. SEB: See you tomorrow.

KURT: Sure thing

#para #p:sebastian #texts #t:sebastian

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alphawave-writes · 5 years

Text

Snow days

Hank loves winter. Gavin doesn't. But Gavin is here to visit his boyfriend for a date and he's hoping they'll spend this winter day getting intimate. Instead, he has to endure the freezing cold, run away from men in white camo, and try not to think too much about Hank in a sexy santa costume.

It's by no means what Gavin expected, or even necessarily wanted, in a date, but as long as Hank's smiling and having fun, he's happy.

You guys ever wanna chat with me, hit me up on my discord server ‘Alphawave’s den’ for sneak peeks of my latest chapters and cool advice for anyone struggling with schoolwork or writing.

Everyone knew that Hank Anderson loved snow days. Countless stories dating all the way to his youth talked about how he played in the glittering white when school was cancelled, making snowmen, starting snowball fights with friends and strangers alike. If Hank could, he'd probably live in the snow, but unfortunately for him, he was only human and thus was limited to his exposure to the cold. Not that androids fared much better in the cold. It's one small advantage to humankind.

That being said, those who knew Gavin Reed knew that he was more of a summer person. Which meant that he hated winter with a vengeance. So it would be to the surprise of many when, on a crisp winter afternoon, Gavin Reed found himself outside of Hank's house to participate in one of Hank Anderson's patented Snow days™. Luckily, Gavin found that there was no one who knew he was in the neighbourhood—not even Connor, which was great, because just being here was humiliating enough. It's hard enough to pretend he hated Hank when he didn't. It's even harder to pretend he wasn't so fucking excited to be alone with Hank today. Much as he'd loathe admitting it, he had been eagerly awaiting today and the things they could do together, preferably within the confines of Hank's bedroom.

Gavin rung the doorbell and quickly shoved his hands into his coat in an effort to look cool and nonchalant. Hank opened the door with that smug old man smile that he simultaneously loved and hated.

"Took your time, didn't ya?" Hank chuckled warmly.

"Yeah yeah, you try and get here from my place," Gavin grumbled. He quelled the urge to smile when Hank leaned over and gave him a slobbery smooch to his right cheek. The urge to reciprocate overwhelmed him but he decided not to. Not now, while he's still at the front yard where he could be seen by anyone.

"You've got an awful amount of lip who willingly came here," Hank smirked. "Miss me that much?"

"Yeah, with a bullet, but my aim's getting better."

Hank only laughed at that, silently ushering Gavin into his home. Gavin stood by the doorway shaking the snowflakes embedded onto his hair and clothes while Hank went into his bedroom. Sumo, sensing the presence of a guest, ran toward Gavin and nearly tackled him over.

"F-fucking hell, you're gonna give me a heart attack," Gavin yelped. He put his hand towards Sumo. "Down, boy. Down."

But Sumo did not speak English, nor did he have the necessary training to understand anything more than the word "food" and "walkies". He continued his assault on Gavin, raining slobbery kisses all over Gavin's face. Gavin's futile protests quickly dissolved into weak giggles. Sumo's kisses were only slightly wetter than Hank's, and with far more tongue too. At this rate, Sumo was more likely to french kiss Gavin than Hank today.

Hank finally emerged with his trademark jacket and sighed wistfully. "Come on, Sumo, get."

Sumo whined.

"Seriously, leave Gav alone, it's my time to pester him."

Sumo let out one final whimper before dragging himself to his bed.

At the sight of Hank putting on his coat, the number of activies Gavin thought possible was drastically reduced. Gavin let out a quiet, disappointed sigh, hiding it with an excessive shake of his head. "Is this what this is? Pestering?" He smiled.

"You agreed to get pestered as soon as you came here," Hank smirked. "Now come on, daylight's wastin'."

Gavin found that he could not say anything to refuse the old man, least of all when he was smiling.

From Hank's house was a 15-minute walk to a small park covered in snow. Deciduous trees were topped with glistening white, and the whole park seemed to shimmer in the light of the sun, snow crystals transforming into diamonds that glitter and glisten with glee. At that moment, Hank embraced his inner child and ran straight into a snow bank with little regard for himself, his reputation, and the cold. Gavin giggled quietly, watching what used to be the most depressed man in the DPD turn into a five-year-old at the sight of what was essentially frozen water.

"Come on, Gavin, join me," Hank called out to him from behind the snowbank.

"It's fucking freezing. I'm not built like a bear like you are."

Hank popped his head up. "Did you just call me a bear?"

"Not that kind of bear. I meant it literally." Gavin let out a huff, trying not to let that mental image creep into his head and tint his cheeks. "And you call me the perverted one," he mumbled.

"I mean, I suppose I am but…I mean, do I count? Do I have to get some kinda experience with this, or am I just…" Hank paused and turned to Gavin with a slightly more serious expression. "Do you…think I'm a bear in the, er…other way?"

Hank blushed crimson, and his rosy cheeks conjured up an image in Gavin's mind of Hank in a Santa costume smiling sweetly as he awkwardly shuffled out of the clothes. Gavin wasn't sure what to make of that mental image. If he was able to convince Hank to wear a Santa costume to the bedroom, he's not sure he's ever gonna look at jolly Kris Kringle the same way again.

At this rate however, he'd settle for just getting Hank into the bedroom in the first place.

"F-fuck no," Gavin mumbled. His cheeks burn as he quickly wiped the image away from his mind before the rest of his body got the cue. The one good thing about embarrassment was that it made Gavin feel a little bit warmer. At the same time however he wished it didn't make him feel this warm. Winding his scarf closer to his neck, he went around the snowbank and approached Hank, who was in the process of packing up snow into crude little columns.

Gavin crossed his arms, more because he was still fucking cold than to make a point. "Please tell me we're not doing what I think you're doing."

"What's so wrong about building a snowman?" Hank asked.

"I don't know, the fact that it's childish?" Gavin glanced around the park nervously. "What would happen if someone sees us?"

"We're just two men making a snowman together. What the fuck's wrong with that?"

"An adult making a snowman with his kid is normal. Two grown men making one is just weird."

"If you think people are gonna presume we're gay, newsflash, but we are."

"You're bisexual," Gavin corrected.

"A bisexual man who's currently in a very gay relationship with another gay man." Hank gestured to the snowman. "Now are you going to help me with this or not?"

Gavin took another cursory glance around the park. He didn't know if Hank chose this time because he was being considerate, but it really was deserted. The only people he could see were a couple kids but they were at the opposite end taking turns on a swing set. No adults in sight, no one that he recognized.

He took another glance at Hank who was kneeling down, trying to keep the crumbling base of his snowman together. Gavin repressed a sigh and crouched down, bundling up snow in his hands into a ball. "Hank, you gotta compact the snow so it sticks together."

"I knew that," Hank said quickly.

"Did you really?" Gavin smirked knowingly.

"…Maybe not," Hank admitted.

Gavin chuckled, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Hank's cold lips. "What would you fucking do without me?"

"I'd certainly have much less to complain about in my weekly therapy sessions," Hank remarked, trying to hide the smile creeping up his cheeks.

Gavin rolled his eyes, grabbing snow from the snowbank to compact. He'd never made a snowman before, not even as a kid. It was rather difficult to make one when you used to live in California and it's perpetually warm and sunny. He had no idea if he even had to compact snow to create a snowman, or if there was a better method out there than whatever the hell he was doing, but just the simple process of creating something was strangely meditative. Dare he say it, he might actually be having fun?

He took another glance at Hank who was smiling serenely into the snow. His eyes trail downward to Hank's cold hands, almost blue from the cold. He forgot his mitts again. Fucking idiot, he thought fondly. He considered giving his own mitts to Hank, but it was only out of the principle of self-preservation (as well as the fact it was cold as fuck) that Gavin kept his on. That didn't stop him from grabbing Hank's hands in his own and heating them up.

"So you don't get fucking frostbite," Gavin said.

Hank just raised his eyebrows and smiled knowingly. "Sure that's the only reason, Gav. Sure."

They worked as a team in relative silence. Not a good team, but a team regardless, and eventually their pile of snow began to roughly look like a ball. The snow pile that they were using as ammunition was running low, so Gavin moved onto the next closest pile of snow beside the only evergreen tree in the park. It's a tedious process, mostly involving shovelling snow behind himself into Hank's general direction, but it's fine because he'd rather let Hank work on the artistic side of things. Heaven knew he was a shit artist.

The pile is nearly depleted, and Gavin was about to find another pile of snow for Hank to work his latent artistic skills on when he felt something buried in the snow. It felt like a plastic bag filled with something. Against his better judgment, he grabbed the bag and brought it out into the light.

It's a bag of red ice, and a full one too. He quickly dropped it in surprise.

…Did he just accidentally find a drug stache? Here?

"Er…Hank? Can you come over here?"

From far away, the sound of a slightly annoyed huff could be heard. "I'm kinda busy, Gav."

"Hank, seriously..."

"Give me a minute, I almost got the second snowball up on this goddamn snowman."

"Seriously, Hank, not to sound like an even bigger asshole than normal, but you need to get your ass here right now."

There's another loud sigh as Hank finally plodded his way over. "OK, what the fuck did you want me to…oh." Hank's eyes widen slightly. "Oh shit."

"'Oh shit', is that all you have to say?" Gavin wildly gestured at the bag. "Fuck, Hank, what are we going to do with a random ass bag of red ice?"

Hank narrowed his eyes. "You've done drug busts before, haven't ya?"

"Yeah, when I expect to find drugs. Not in the middle of a goddamn snowy park." Gavin rubbed the back of his head. What the fuck was happening?

"Look, let's all calm down and take a deep breath." A gentle, soothing smile eased out of Hank's lips. It quelled Gavin's racing mind, gave him something to focus on. Hank continued, "Treat it like a case, Gav."

Gavin closed his eyes and exhaled, not because it was sound advice but because it was Hank who was saying this. Whether he hated him or liked him, the result was the same. He couldn't help but obey Hank Anderson on an instinctual level.

"Did ya touch the bag?" Hank asked.

"No. Not even with the mitts." Gavin wiggled his fingers to make his point, not that it told Hank much.

Hank nodded. "Does the bag look like something a user might leave?"

Gavin carefully observed his surroundings. The bag was left right next to the only evergreen tree. There were cameras in the park except for this blind spot. And the sheer amount of red ice here. This wasn't something a person would just forget about. Someone left it here. "It's a drop," Gavin uttered.

"Seems like it," Hank shrugged.

Gavin crossed his arms. He should probably know the street value of red ice by now, but the number of drug busts he'd done was pitifully small in his long career in the force, and he was content on sticking with his usual homicide cases.

Still...he did need to ask. "Hank, er...how much—"

"200,000 dollars."

"Er…what?"

"That's 200,000 dollars worth of drugs in there."

Gavin was about to ask more when he saw in the corner of his eye a couple of people slowly approaching. They were all wearing white, clothing that perfectly allowed them to blend into the snow. Gavin looked back at the hole he made where the bag was and saw something glitter faintly, just beneath the red ice, a small black object no bigger than a watermelon seed.

An audio device.

"Phck," Gavin muttered.

He grabbed the bag and hugged it close to his body, urging Hank with his other hand to run, run, run. The people in the distance began running too until it's a chase away from the park. Hank's not slow, thank god, and the chasers were wearing clothing specifically designed for stealth and not speed, also thank god. The entire time Hank and Gavin don't stop running, not even to see where those chasers were, just mindlessly heading towards Hank's house. By the time they're there, as Hank quickly enters his car in one smooth move (something told Gavin Hank had practised that particular move before), the pursuers were nowhere in sight.

Hank started the car and began driving down the streets, nervously checking his mirrors every couple of seconds for signs of a pursuit but there was nothing. Gavin finally took the time to look at the bag sitting on his lap.

"Phck," he muttered again.

"Don't start snortin' it up, Gavin. Wouldn't want to see you more irritable than normal," Hank joked.

"I'm not that bad," Gavin said, knowing full well he was very much an easily irritated person by nature.

Hank pointed out, "The last time you stayed over at my place, you were grumpy as all fuck."

"You called me over to 'Netflix and chill'," Gavin said pointedly.

"So? We watched a movie on Netflix. We chilled at my place."

Gavin scratched the bridge of his nose. "You really don't fucking know what 'Netflix and chill' means, do you?"

"Well, then what the fuck does it mean?"

The traffic light turned red and the car stopped. Hank glanced over to Gavin just in time for him to see Gavin repeatedly poke his index finger in and out of a hole made with his other hand. Hank's blush returned as he turned his attention back to the road. "O-Oh. T-that…."

Gavin let out a puff of air as the light turned green and the car lurched forward once again. He glanced at Hank and saw the old gears turning ever so slowly in his brain. A part of Gavin regretted the crude way in which he talked to Hank lately. It wasn't the old fuck's fault he was so far behind the times he was practically last century…well, OK, maybe it was his fault, but it was also his choice to remain in blissful ignorance. He'd invited Gavin to his place to watch a movie with the nicest of intents. He'd invited him to hang out today, the first time in what felt like forever when they both had an off day. Hank meant well, even if he clearly was not picking up the signals Gavin had been projecting for months now. He shouldn't be so pissy when he's sexually frustrated.

Gavin waited a minute before he finally spoke again. "You know, I was sorta hoping when you invited me on this date that we'd…you know, take the next step further. Third base, or home base, I don't fucking know. Just…you know…something more than a couple of kisses every now and then."

Hank was silent. Gavin decided to continue.

"Look, I get it. You haven't been with anyone since your wife, I haven't been through it but I understand. And if you wanna take it slow, I'm OK with that, but for the love of god, you gotta tell me so we don't end up in sticky scenarios like this." Gavin gestured at the bag of red ice before him.

Hank chuckled weakly. "I don't think our sex lives could have ever determined whether we find a bag of red ice in the middle of the fucking park or not."

"If we'd gone all the way, we wouldn't be at the park, Hank," Gavin leaned towards Hank and stared meaningfully into his eyes. "We'd be doing something warmer and more fun than making a snowman, I can tell you."

Hank's embarrassment got the better of him, and he stayed silent, unable to comment. After a minute waiting for Hank to speak, Gavin turned, propped his head up with his hand, and stared at the busy Detroit streets that passed him by.

It's not long before they found themselves back in the DPD. The heated room was a saving grace as Gavin hefted himself out of his coat. He let out an annoyed sigh. The one time both he and Hank had an off-day and they both end up having to return to the office anyways for the craziest, shittiest reason ever. Just their luck.

Before Gavin could bemoan his misfortune verbally, Fowler is already out of his office after catching sight of them. His eyes flickered from Hank, to Gavin, then to the bag cradled in Gavin's grasp.

"You fucking didn't," he groaned.

"Jeffrey, I know this sounds ridiculous, but we just found a bag of red ice literally in the park," Hank said. "And I think this could be related to some of the gangs of that local area. If we could just analyse this, we might have a break." Fowler didn't look convinced. It didn't stop Hank. "Jeffrey, seriously, I—"

"Let me just stop you right there," Fowler sighed. "You're telling me you just found a bag of red ice? Just now?"

"Er…yeah?"

"Were you approached by three people wearing snow camo?"

"Yeah?"

Fowler slapped his palm forcibly into his forehead. "Hank, you fucking stumbled yourself onto one of the SWAT team exercises."

"Wait…what?" Gavin said.

"I just got a call minutes ago from Captain Allen saying two lunatics stumbled onto them in the park managed to accidentally dig up the fake drugs they had buried in the snow and ran away with it before they could do anything! And now you come here to me with it?!"

"I mean…it was hidden quite well," Hank chuckled nervously. "Cut me some slack, it looks like the real thing."

"Hank," Fowler said, "you're holding a bag of pop rocks."

Gavin peered into the bag and opened it. It sure didn't smell like red ice. He took a small bit of it and placed it on his tongue. "H-hey hey hey! What the fuck are you doing?!" Hank yelled.

Gavin's eyebrows furrowed. "It is fucking pop rocks." He smacked his lips experimentally. "Strawberry flavoured?"

With a groan, Fowler swiped the bag out of Gavin's hands. "I swear to god, I'm gonna get a migraine from you two." He shook his head incredulously. "What the fuck were you two even doing in a park anyway?"

Hank turned to Gavin. Gavin turned to Hank. The two men stared at each other, desperately hoping they had progressed into that stage of the relationship that they could telepathically communicate to each other because they were both sending the same signal. Shit shit shit shit, they mentally told one another. Whether it was out of ignorance or because of the lack of fucks in his possession, Fowler let out one last sigh before returning to his office, the bag of pop rocks in his hand.

That left Hank and Gavin awkwardly staring at each other in the middle of the precinct. Gavin glanced around, trying to see if he spotted any familiar faces but there were none aside from Fowler. Tina and Connor weren't around for some reason. A case, a really late lunch break together, or the earliest of Christmas miracles, Gavin didn't know but he fucking did appreciate it. He didn't know how the fuck he'd have to explain this.

Hank coughed loudly into his hand. "You, um…wanna…get out of here?"

"Fuck yes," Gavin said, quickly putting his coat back on.

They go outside into the cold, Gavin almost immediately shivering. The combined time they spent in the precinct and car had made Gavin acclimatized to the heater, so of course, winter had to give him a middle finger by making the wind pick up its pace, which had the effect of lowering the perceived temperature by about five degrees. That was ten degrees colder than Gavin could tolerate. He fucking hates winter.

He'd further curse winter's name if he could, but a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, and suddenly he was pulled close to Hank. He whipped his head to Hank, who was very conveniently looking in the other direction. The sight of Hank's ruddy cheeks ignited a small chuckle out of Gavin's lips, warm and soft like the sun. The corners of Hank's lips peek upward.

"Well, this incident pretty much ruined any chance of us of us enjoying the snow today," Hank sighed.

Gavin could only shrug. Yeah, today's outing was ruined, but he wasn't so hung up about it. He was never all that crazy about being out in the cold. Making the snowman wasn't that bad though. Not that he'd say it out loud.

"A-about today. You…you thought me inviting you to hang out in the snow was another euphemism, right?" Hank asked nervously.

"Yeah," Gavin admitted. "But I kinda got the message of what you actually wanted to do when you began talking about things we could do. I got the idea you were being sincere when you started talking about fucking ice skating of all things a couple days ago."

It's Hank's turn to chuckle. "Still can't believe you can't ice skate."

"Well, what do you expect? I never liked winter, and I've never seen snow till I came here. I haven't even made a snowman before, which, FYI, is incredibly dumb and only appropriate for children, Hank." Gavin pressed himself closer to Hank. It's partly for warmth, but also partly because it felt nice.

"If you don't like winter, and you didn't wanna fucking hang out in the snow, then why the fuck did you come anyway? Why not just tell me you wanted to stay inside?" Hank asked, a childish curiosity seeping into his voice.

"Isn't it obvious?" Gavin let out a rare, quiet smile. "I wanna hang out with my fucking boyfriend, that's what. And if I have to suffer in the freezing cold to see you smile for once, then fuck it, I'll do it."

Hank's eyes widen in surprise for a second, but it soon faded into a gentle smile. Gavin knew it was a smile from the heart because Hank's eyes light up like fireworks exploding in the night sky. "That's the nicest thing I've heard you say, Gavin. To, like…anyone, actually." Hank rubbed the back of his head bashfully. "I'm not so sure I'm, er, worth all that extra effort. Or the nice words."

"It doesn't matter if you are worth it or not, because I'm gonna fucking say them to you regardless," Gavin grinned up to Hank. "You're not the worst human being in the world."

Hank scoffed. "Is that supposed to make you feel better?"

"I'm Gavin 'asshole' Reed apparently. That's the best compliment you're gonna fish out of me."

"I don't know, that bit about me being a bear might've been up there," Hank teased.

"Oh, so now you decide to flirt with me."

"Look, Gavin, I'm trying to insinuate something." And Gavin began to turn his head away derisively but Hank gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. Hank was probably trying to do his best bedroom eyes impression, but to Gavin, he only looked like he was half about to go to sleep.

A giggle broke out of Gavin despite himself. "What the fuck are you trying to insinuate?"

"You were the one who wanted to know where we take this relationship, well…" Hank grabbed one of Gavin's mitted hands with his own, "…I think I'm ready to take the next step. Wouldn't want you to get tired of me too quickly now."

Gavin entwined his hands with Hank's. He could already feel Hank's cold hands seep the heat from his mittens but still, Gavin felt a little bit warm. It didn't matter if Hank stole a bit of heat from him. Not if they were gonna be generating a whole lot in the next hour or so.

"OK, first of all, I don't have the necessary supplies."

"Supplies?" Hank creased his brows. "You're not talking about…condoms?"

"…You've never been with a guy, have you."

Hank smiled sheepishly. "I mean…I know lube is involved, right?"

"Yeah, but do you have some?"

"I do, actually." Hank's brows furrowed. "...wait, can lube expire?"

Gavin withheld a sigh as he pulled Hank towards the car. "Fucking hell, I really do have to teach you everything," he shook his head. "You're taking us to the fucking pharmacy to get some lube and condoms from this century, and then we're going back to your place."

"Gonna show me the ropes, Gavin?" Hank laughed.

"You bet your ass I do," Gavin paused before adding, "and before you say it, yes I meant that one literally."

Hank laughed again. "I think we're gonna have to discuss the details in the car before one of us gets our rocks off."

Gavin eagerly agreed. Once they got inside the car, they got into what was the most mundane conversation about sex ever. Not that Gavin minded. Tried as he might, he couldn't help the swell of excitement rise in him. Regardless of what Hank said, today wasn't ruined. In fact, with all the craziness of finding those fake drugs, Gavin was already having fun.

Given the circumstances however, he might wait until after their activities before he considers telling Hank that though.

#DBH #detroit become human #Hankvin #hank anderson #Gavin reed #dbh hank #dbh gavin #The gift fic is done! Hankvin shippers rejoice!#This was the prize fic from a contest I conducted earlier for my reed900 fic 'DPD'#I might make more competitions or polls so keep your eyes peeled #I had a lot of fun writing this (even if I might've went overboard with the humour)#Regardless I hope it's good. Hankvin shippers you are a treasure and I hope this fic gives the ship the justice it deserves

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Fifteen

(Prevoius Chapter Here)

(Discord Here)

Been a while since I’ve posted, sorry about that-

I’m supposed to be in school rn lol

When finally taken back to the lockers, after thirty exhausting hours, Cryptor feels as though he’s on the verge of a forced shutdown.

The damn brat had switched out with someone else, claiming something about an internship. And that had at least meant that the one hurting him no longer had a personal vendetta, but it was still painful.

Cryptor hates how close he had come to actually asking them to hurt Zane instead, but he didn’t. Though judging by the way the other looks when the two of them are put in the locker, they hurt him anyway.

DID THEY GIVE YOU A CHOICE TOO?

Zane doesn’t answer for a moment, likely out of surprise or maybe exhaustion.

I DIDNT GIVE IN

Cryptor snorts. Of course he didn’t. He’s a self-sacrificing dumbass, and it had been that knowledge that had allowed Cryptor to hang on himself.

HOW LONG A BREAK DO YOU THINK WELL GET?

It’s a morbid game, really, but the two of them had taken to guessing how long they would get before dragged out for testing or torture.

AT LEAST SIX HOURS WE WERE THERE FOR OVER A DAY

Mulls over the words, Cryptor considers the idea. Zane’s probably right, but he feels like arguing.

OR THEYLL WANT TO BEAT IT INTO US WITH A SHORTER ONE

There’s a pause, and Cryptor takes a moment to hate himself. Yes, start an argument with his one friend, that’s a wonderful idea.

IS SOMEONE HAVING A BAD DAY?

Cryptor snorts. Good, Zane can tell when he’s only pretending to argue. Probably picked that up from his teammates.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

The friendly banter continues for a while, but Cryptor can eventually feel himself shutting down from exhaustion.

He taps out a goodbye and a quick explanation before falling asleep, hoping- but not expecting- that they’ll get today off.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Jay is starting to lose his grip.

Kai had gotten himself under house arrest by breaking into the government building- which he neglected to tell them the location of before doing so- and since they live on the Bounty, they’re stuck grounded so that the police can make sure that Kai’s not leaving.

Also he’s been sulking the whole time.

It’s already been almost two months, but he still has another four left, and everyone on the ship is going crazy from it.

“I am this close to renting a hotel until his house arrest is over.” Nya holds up her hand so that her pointer finger and thumb are almost touching.

Cole sighs, shaking his head. “I’d join you, but at this point I’m scared of leaving him unsupervised.”

Jay laughs a little. “Honestly, what could he do that’s worse than what he’s already done?”

The two immediately snap over to looking at him.

“Are you trying to jinx it?!” Cole groans. “You know full well how crazy he can get when it comes to protecting us.”

Wincing, Jay accepts the point. “That’s fair. But I doubt he would-“

Lloyd comes running into the room. “Kai left the ship. He tied his house arrest bracelet to the roomba so it would move, and I don’t know where he went.”

Jay blinks. “I stand corrected.”

Then they’re all scrambling to their feet, rushing off to try and find the dumbass hot head that is Kai.

Cole runs outside, probably off to go look at his usual hiding places- he’s run off before, but never under house arrest.

Nya goes to her computer, most likely going to try and track his phone- that’s her usual go-to for when one of them goes off to do something stupid.

He’s not entirely sure where Lloyd’s going, but he probably has some kind of plan.

But before Jay has the chance to come up with his own, his BorgPhone rings with a number that he doesn’t recognize.

A flash of fear takes over him. Oh, Kai better not have gotten captured. What happens if he has? They might hurt him, he might go to prison, he could get into all kinds of trouble!

With shaky hands, Jay hits accept and holds the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, this is Jay Walker. Who is this and how have I ruined your life?” Somehow, he manages to keep his voice from shaking.

“It’s more of your boyfriend who’s doing that.” Sentry grumbles. “I found Kai sneaking into Borg Tower- he was trying to find more hints of ways to rescue Zane. Please come and get him before he gets caught- I shoved him in a back room to keep people from finding him, but he’ll probably find a way out pretty soon.”

Jay curses softly. “Of course he did. Okay, I’m on my way.” He starts to head out even as he speaks, silently complaining about how reckless his boyfriend can be. He loves him, he really does, but sometimes- like now- he really wants to slap him.

It takes him around fifteen minutes to make it to Borg Tower, and when he steps inside, Sentry is standing right next to the door.

“He escapes from the room, so I put him in the timeout corner. He’s handcuffed to the wall, but I’m pretty sure that-“

Jay blinks a few times. “Wh- why do you have a timeout corner? And why does it have handcuffs?”

Sighing, Sentry shakes his head. “The white nindroids were created recently and are pretty immature,” he explains, “so a timeout is a pretty effective way to get them to behave. The handcuffs are for when they still don’t listen- now come on, we should hurry before he finds a way out.”

So Jay lets the nindroid lead him through the tower, trying to stop the way he’s nervously jittering. It- it’ll be fine, it’ll be totally and completely fi-

They come into a back room where Kai is in a chair and in handcuffs that are attached to the wall, forcing his hands above his head.

Jay glances over at Sentry. “Uh-“

“We have two timeout corners. This one is for the nindroids who cause trouble repeatedly. Or in this case, the ninja who does that.” He glares at Kai, but the red ninja looks utterly unapologetic.

“I need to rescue Zane. And you didn’t have to call someone to pick me up, I’m not some child in a school’s principal’s office.” Kai huffs, shifting in his bonds.

Jay starts to try and tell him that he’s totally acting like he’s just got his parents called in an office, but Sentry shakes his head, and speaks up.

“There’s a back door you can take him out so that he doesn’t get caught, but keep a better handle on him next time. We really don’t need him getting an actual prison sentence.”

Glancing at his boyfriend, Jay thinks for a moment, trying to figure out if he’d actually be able to get Kai out of here without being seen.

“I’m going to call Cole,” he decides, “he’ll be able to carry him out of here.”

“I can walk!” Kai protests, looking betrayed. “I don’t need to be carried-“

Sentry nods. “Probably a good idea. He might put up a fight on the way out.”

“I can hear you, you know! I’m right here.” Kai sounds annoyed and frustrated, and Jay sighs, feeling himself cave a little.

“It’s okay, Fire-Hazard. I’ll talk Nya out of murdering you, so long as you promise to actually stay on the ship this time.”

At his words, Kai pales a little. It’s clear he hadn’t thought about how his sister would react to him running off.

“I’ll behave.” He grumbles, clearly unhappy about it. “But I can’t just do nothing.”

With a start, Jay realizes that he’s right. The reason that he keeps doing stupid things is because he needs to be doing something to help- if he doesn’t, he’s going to feel like he’s failing Zane.

So they need to come up with something that he could work on, some way he could get them closer to freeing him.

Maybe if he was working on part of the plan…

Jay looks over at Sentry. “We’re looking for legal loopholes right now, right? Could he help you try and find some? From the computer on the ship, I mean.”

Kai perks up a little, and Sentry looks like he’s considering the idea.

“Will that keep him out of trouble?” He sounds hesitant, but Jay quickly nods.

“He just wants to help, give him a way to do that and he’ll be fine.”

The nindroid looks over at Kai. “Is he seriously going to be able to look through legal documents for longer than thirty seconds?” He sounds unamused, but he pauses again when he sees Kai’s determined expression.

“I looked through a ton of them to break in. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him out.”

After hesitating for only a moment longer, Sentry nods. “Alright,” he agrees, “I’ll send over some I haven’t gotten to yet.”

So Jay ends up only calling Cole so that he can let the others know that Jay found him, and Kai actually walks back without putting up a fuss.

It takes a bit of work to get him on the ship stealthily enough so that any potential cameras couldn’t see, but they manage it.

However, when they step onto the bridge, the three others look annoyed beyond belief.

After a pause, Kai chuckles nervously. “On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in?”

“Eleven.” Nya’s smile expresses anything but happiness, and Cole and Lloyd look only slightly less upset.

Somehow, Jay manages to uphold his promise, talking Nya out of giving Kai some five hour lecture that would probably make him regret existing.

Lloyd grabs Stabby and re-attaches the house arrest bracelet, and it’s not long after that the red ninja is in front of the computer, having about seven files open that he’s comparing and researching.

Later, Cole comes up to him. “The research thing was good thinking; it’ll keep him distracted while still allowing him to help.”

Jay flashes him a smile. “What can I say? I actually have good ideas sometimes.”

Cole smirks. “That’s debatable.”

“You literally just told me that I had a good idea.” Jay reminds with his own grin.

With an overly thoughtful expression, Cole strokes his chin. “Did I? I don’t remember that.”

“Wow, and here I was with the idea that elephants never forget.” Jay snarks back, barely containing his snickers.

Mock gasping, Cole puts a hand over his chest. But as he starts to teasingly reply, his smile fades, and he looks down.

“... Zane loved mock arguments.” He murmurs softly, pain suddenly written on his face.

Jay feels his own cheerfulness drain a little. “It took a while to teach him how, but he got pretty good at them.” He quietly agrees as he remembers the difficulty Zane had used to have with humor.

“He got pretty good at them though.” Cole’s smile is more pained now, but it’s there.

With a soft chuckle, Jay nods. “Absolutely trashed us with them.”

But then the emotions are over taking him, and Jay feels himself shaking at the thought of his titanium boyfriend. Who knows what they’re doing to him, from Kai’s recount they’ve been outright torturing him, he-

Cole puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.” He speaks softly, and his voice is uncertain, as though he’s not really sure of himself, even though it sounds like he’s trying to keep it steady.

Jay nods weakly, feeling tears burn at the back of his eyes. “It’ll be okay.” He repeats softly, desperately trying to believe the words.

In the end, Cole has to coax both him and Kai into bed with gentle reassurances and promises that he sounds slightly unsure of, but at this point, Jay’s too desperate to think about how he might be wrong.

He just wants Zane back… is that really too much to ask for?

Apparently, because it doesn’t seem that they’ll be getting him back anytime soon.

That night, even when cuddled in the arms of his other boyfriends, he cries himself to sleep.

Zane will be okay. He has to be okay.

Jay won’t be able to take it if he’s not.

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

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watolocke · 6 years

Text

Watolock Figure Skating AU

So this all came to me at once and I wrote a lot of plot points and possible moments down. I’m not much of a fic writer so if you want to force yourself through this disconnected block of text, have fun! I sent this to the Miss Sherlock Discord but I’ll give it its moment in the Tumblr tag lmao.

Sherlock began as a rising star in the junior figure skating community when she was 15, holding an excellent track record of consecutive wins. She had excellent technical skills and creative flair. Her interaction with fans was minimal but she remained popular regardless.

Unfortunately her teenage years appeared to be the peak of her career when her abilities began to crash after the death of her parents (and some other secret angsty backstory involving figure skating) soon after she turned 20. She began crashing in competitions and her renowned self-choreographed routines fell flat. Her heart and soul was no longer in it.

The only time she feels fully at ease on the ice in her early 20s is in private.

Wato is a hobbyist when it comes to skating. While she is fascinated by the sport she is by no means a religious competition follower and while she could probably list a handful of names she's read about, she wouldn't be quick to recognise. Admittedly she is a bit of nerd surrounding the physics of figure skating jumps.

She uncovered years old tape recordings of the Olympics in her parents' attic and pored over the figure skating footage in her free time while getting through high school. (I honestly just needed an excuse for her not to be a Figure Skating Fangirl who would know Sherlock immediately).

She continues to practise into her college years when she has short breaks between working for her medical degree. It's always in public rinks and it is never more than a hobby.

Kimie Hatano is the rink owner. Gentaro Reimon is Sherlock's coach. Tatsuya Shibata is a pairs skater.#

Their first encounter is at the end of Sherlock's private rink time. She begins to unlace at the back to avoid being rudely talked to or god forbid, asked a question.

Enter the public. Among the groups of friends and couples, a shorter frantic woman stumbles in. She's hefting an assortment of bags and dressed terribly in Sherlock's opinion. Sherlock watches her hastily tie her laces connected to her ratty old skates and push in earphones before she steps onto the ice amidst the rush. For some unknown reason she seems to stand out despite the lacklustre attire. Her expression is just so full of will and determination.

She is soon gliding effortlessly and stepping rhymically across the ice the best she can amidst the admittedly sparse public. There are stammers and blips occasionally and it would be a lie if Sherlock didn't admit one or two falls escaped the woman. It wasn't completely fluent but the beauty and luminescence of the her character easily erased the most minor of errors.

She begins to slide into more advanced step sequences before launching into a series of single jumps. Sherlock hadn't been aware, hadn't even considered the thought, that what she'd seen had simply been a warmup for this assumed amateur. She throws herself without almost any hesitation, catching herself when she underestimates a landing. She continues, never letting the proud glow leave her eyes.

There's a moment where she seems to *prepare* herself, remaining motionless on the ice and taking a breath before she sets off again. Moving with unexpected strength and a spark in her eye. Jump. Sherlock holds her own breath as she sees this woman take off with the clear ambition of a toe loop. One revolution. Two. Three. Landing. Slicing into the ice on the right back outside edge, she lands with only a slight wobble. An almost flawless triple toe. Sherlock is enraptured. Of course, she can do such moves in her sleep but, here she is... Awestruck.

Frozen in place, Sherlock doesn't appear to notice the glee and surprise on the woman's face as she pushes herself to the exit, breathing heavily and reaching for a discarded bottle of water by her bag.

Sherlock practically falls out of her seat in an attempt to catch the woman during her break. Sherlock knows how much she herself despises being interrupted. She fills with a strange emotion as she approaches slowly in the building afternoon crowds. Nerves? She has not been noticed. She could still turn away. No, not Sara Shelly Futaba! She's a figure skating prodigy... with nerves of steel! And really she should take note of potential competition that could jeopardize her consistent wins.

Sherlock: Who's your coach?

Wato, pulling out her earphones: Eh? Sorry?

Sherlock: Do you have a coach?

Wato, looking bemused.

Sherlock, taking in Wato's scuffed and worn skates and attire: No! Of course you don't. What am I thinking!

Wato, quickly growing angry and scoffing in disbelief.

Sherlock, failing lamely: No no... No! Sorry I just... Uh, what's your name?

Wato: Tachibana... [Sherlock is clearly waiting for her to elaborate] Wato.

Sherlock: [to herself] Tachibana Wato... Listen- [cut off by phone buzzing, glances away] Ugh..! Listen- [Wato has disappeared; initiate frustrated Sherlock stomps and hair mussing]

Sherlock rushes out instantly, knowing she has no time to hunt down this newly named mystery girl without incurring the wrath of her ballet instructor. She spends the whole lesson a little out of focus and enamoured by Wato. It certainly doesn't go unnoticed. She's endlessly teased by Shibata on the sidelines as her (usually flawless) form is corrected. Sherlock obviously gives him a murderous look and already has 4 possible scenarios in which she can end his career.

The next time she's at the rink, she casually attempts to ask around about a Wato Tachibana. Yet we all know that Sherlock lacks any semblance of discreetness and of course Kimie Hatano, rink owner and Sherlock's designated moral support, knows the "sweet girl who has been showing up for about a week now and oh! She is so lovely, she'd probably even like you, Sherlock! Whoops, I didn't mean that..! Anyway, since you like her so much I'll introduce you both!". Cue Sherlock indignantly denying any interest but not denying the offer.

Mrs Hatano is endlessly encouraging Sherlock to speak to Wato but let's face it... She's a hopeless lesbian.

Wato has just returned from a gap year in Syria she took in pursuit of her dream as a doctor. She was doing training as a nurse and was further encouraged to chase a higher medical career. Now in the summer building up to her final year in university before she enters medical school she is taking her free time to pursue an outside hobby she enjoys to lessen the pressure of such a demanding course.

She becomes close friends with Mrs Hatano during her visits and praises Wato each time she sees her but Wato is much too humble and even unaware to admit she's any good. Mrs Hatano remarks on her days as an ice dancer and all the many incredible men and women she met (in more ways than one). Wato laughs along at her stories that would be unbelievable if they weren't coming from her lips. Sherlock is often seen moping in the sidelines lamenting her inability to approach Wato after their awkward first encounter.

After some long, hard talks with Mrs Hatano Wato decides that she can afford to fish out money for a few lessons, purely to occupy her summer *obviously*. Sherlock, who is usually opposed to assisting any beginner's lessons jumps at the chance when Mrs Hatano mentions Wato.

However, the instructor insists she just show what she can do first lesson while Sherlock is lurking in the back of the rink seating. Wato gets off to a shaky start due to her nerves but is soon smoothly gliding across the ice and doing moves, slowly increasing in difficulty. Amid this she is periodically throwing out single and double jumps. Sherlock is convinced she needs to speak to this girl and maybe advise her on how to improve her technique. Sherlock can already see the magic if Wato were to improve her rotations and unstable landings. Although these things never come out quite as smoothly she skates...

So unfortunately the first time they speak sherlock unintentionally comes off as pretentious and the two get into some verbal combat despite being interested in each other.

Kento definitely approaches Sherlock later and she pouts and mopes about how badly she handled that situation but that Wato was *totally* in the wrong too..!

Sherlock thought she was being constructive when advising wato on her technique but she was just pointing out everything wrong. She didn't have time to get to the positives before Wato was offended and began the verbal warfare.

They also both make the mistake of going to Mrs Hatano, wondering how they could apologise. Mrs Hatano, of course, has a genius idea: Coffee. However, when both women arrive and suddenly there's four coffees between the two of them. There's a lot of uncomfortable fumbling and light blushes as they talk over each other attempting to defend themselves. Sherlock tries to act cold and unaffected but they're eventually both giggling.

Conversation is still awkward as they both lace up before Wato's first proper lesson but Sherlock lightly nudges Wato before shoving a piece of chocolate in her hand. Before Wato can reply Sherlock has turned away, shoved on her skate guards and marched off. And lucky she did because she may have melted if she saw the soft smile Wato had on her face.

Next thing you know Sherlock is pretending nothing happened and patiently leading Wato in a beginner's class. Sherlock notoriously doesn't have the patience for *anyone*. Period. On the side we have a slightly stunned Mrs Hatano. Sherlock is so caught up in explaining successful landing technique in detail that she doesn't even notice them. Shibata films it as "blackmail material" but Sherlock steals his phone. Before deleting the video she sends it to herself... because Wato looks so cute in it but she'll never let anyone in on that.

As first professional lessons usually go, Wato falls over an unimaginable amount of times by over-rotating on her jumps and Sherlock rushes over each time to check that she's alright.

Wato, grinning: You know I'm getting a medical degree, right?

Sherlock, holding the sides of her face gazing very intently at Wato's pupils: You can't determine your own concussion!

They probably look in each other's eyes for a few moments too long before clearing their throats and getting back to practice.

Sherlock leads Wato through the appropriate motions by lightly placing her hands on Wato's hips and waist and demonstrating the leg and arm movements for better balance. It's all in the name of sport yet it ends up achingly intimate.

By the end they are both glowing and Wato is gazing up as Sherlock rambles about everything and nothing all at once and she can't take her eyes off her. They end up beside each other once again, yanking off their skates and mindlessly discussing breathtaking routines from *decades* ago because of course Sherlock has endless knowledge on all her interests. They end up sat there late into the afternoon as the public passes in front of them and Mrs Hatano brings them drinks and snacks.

Wato talks about her school life and how exhausting it can be but how much she adores it. Sherlock laughs at her affably for not following modern skating competitions. Wato jokes that Sherlock isn't as popular as she claims she is. Conversation is cut short when Wato cheekily requests to see one of Sherlock's apparently *incredible* routines. Sherlock stalks off with a less than friendly farewell and Wato has to use all her energy not to chase after this woman she's barely known a day.

Sat speechless she confides in Mrs Hatano who halfheartedly mentions Sherlock's "moods", although it seemed like more than a mood to Wato.

They each spend that night pondering the fun they had and just how much they want to see and speak to each other again.

The next time that they meet Sherlock stomps up to Wato with a phone number and a proposition. The number is to organise additional practises with Sherlock who gets extra rink access because "it's practical, Wato! Don't be dense!" The proposition is an invitation to witness one of Sherlock's routines privately during one of the previously mentioned additional practises. Sherlock requests that she set the date for it but Wato quickly agrees.

It takes a week more of practises in the presence of Mrs Hatano and various instructors before Sherlock finally approaches Wato to make good on her offer that night.

When Wato enters the rink it is the quietest she's ever seen it. She doesn't even see Mrs Hatano shuffling about. Admittedly it is quite late in the evening on a Sunday. She calls out, spotlights flash and as she blinks Sherlock appears from the other side of the rink all booted up with a long, *extremely fashionable* coat draped around her. Wato laughs loudly at her dramatics and Sherlock badly covers a smile as she skates to the centre of the ice.

Wato shades her eyes from the lights as she tries to see who's in the tech booth although she's almost certain she already knows. She hears a yell of "catch!" before feeling the impact of a coat on her face. Before she can protest Sherlock has assumed her opening position and she is... *dazzling*. Her outfit is delicately sequined and elegant.

The music sets off at a somber pace and Sherlock possesses all the majesty and grace of a prima ballerina. The pace picks up and though she feels slightly wobbly in front of this new audience she slices through the air, elevating herself half a metre off the ice and landing with perfect balance.

Sherlock does the most impossible choreography and Wato is *beyond* amazed. She is void of speech or even breath to fully convey the beauty of what she'd just seen.

Sherlock bows deeply after showcasing one of her early successful routines and twirls, waving timidly to the audience of one.

As Sherlock begins to exit the ice Wato rushes over and grabs her arm as she sings her praises. Sherlock goes to shake Wato's arm off in habit but is stuck halfway through putting on her skate guards by Wato's fascinated expression and sparkling eyes.

Since this is just a very long sneak peak of my ideas... I’ll stop here. Feel free to send me asks with your thoughts and questions about this AU though. I am very invested in it.

#why am i posting this... i might post my royalty au if yall like this #miss sherlock #sherlock futaba #wato tachibana #watolock #my writing #that's a strange tag to write gfsjdka #au #my au #skating au #mine #this is so cheesy... why am i such a romantic

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