#Been lurking but finally felt like actually being active

[f1povs]

You’re safe with me

Pairing : Sergio Checo Perez x reader

Summary- y/n sister of Carlos Sainz. When he followed his dreams of being a f1 driver she followed hers and became a firefighter. After things went south on a call y/n decided to move in with Carlos.

A/n : so this is an idea I’ve had for ages and thinking of writing a whole story on this idea. This is my first time actually posting something as never had the confidence to post but after seeing so many amazing writers on here and other apps I thought I might as well try so please no hate or negativity. If you have any advice then feel free to share and if you think I should write a whole story then please say and I will do my best 🙏

Y/n watched the world go by as she sat in her favorite park, her gaze distant and unfocused. It was as if she was watching a movie play out before her eyes, with all the characters moving in slow motion. She knew everyone around her, the way they smiled, the way they laughed, the way they lived their lives. But she felt disconnected from it all, as if she were merely an observer in someone else's story. Her mind wandered back to the countless times she had watched her brother, Carlos, race his heart out on the track, cheering him on from the sidelines, her voice echoing above the roar of the engines.

She remembered the day she had decided to become a firefighter. It had been an impulsive decision, born out of a desire to protect those she loved and make a difference in the world. Little did she know that it would lead her down a path filled with heartache and loss, with every victory she achieved coming at the cost of someone else's suffering. But she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her accomplishments, even as she struggled to come to terms with the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

The wind picked up suddenly, rustling the leaves of the trees and sending a shiver down her spine. Y/n looked up, her eyes meeting those of a stranger who was staring at her intently. For a brief moment, they locked gazes, and she felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her. It was as if this person knew everything about her, all her secrets and fears, and they were offering her a glimmer of hope in return. But then the moment passed, and the stranger turned away, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost. After sitting in the park for a while y/n decided that she couldn’t be here, in this town anymore. Y/n picked up her phone and rang her brother.

Carlos: hey y/n are you okay?

Y/n: um yeah I’m okay. Um I’m just wondering if… I… um… could come move in with you?”

Y/n held back the tears trying to escape her eyes as she spoke to her brother.

Carlos: yeah of course you can move in when are you coming I’ll get a room ready.

After couple hours flight, Y/n smiled as she spotted her brother, Carlos Sainz, standing outside the airport terminal. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed impeccably in his racing gear. Despite the hectic week of training getting ready for the race on the weekend, he'd managed to take time out of his schedule to pick her up from the airport. She hadn't seen him in months, not since the accident at work.

It wasn’t a long drive but seemed like forever. Carlos tried making small talk but y/n wasn’t really interested. She was in a world of her own as she stared out of her brothers car window. No one knew how bad the accident was. All they knew was that y/n was in an accident at work.

Finally y/n and Carlos arrived. The paddock was abuzz with activity, a whirlwind of color and motion that seemed to swirl around her like a dream. She had been away for months, as y/n stepped out of the car the familiar smell of racing fuel and burning rubber hung thick in the air, mingling with the sounds of engines revving and tires screeching. It was like being in a live-action painting, vibrant and alive with the energy of a thousand hearts beating as one. Y/n thought it was nice to be back with her f1 family. Everyone was excited to greet y/n but there was one particular driver who was more excited to see her.

As Sergio Perez turned the corner, his heart skipped a beat. There she was, standing by the lockers with her brothers and his friends, her back to him. It had been months since they'd last seen each other, and the familiarity of her figure was almost overwhelming. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he walked towards her. His gaze drifted over her shoulder-length hair, the way it casually fell across her back, and the way she was hugging herself, as if she were cold. He fought the urge to run up and envelop her in a warm embrace, instead opting for a friendly wave as he neared.

“Hey, y/n!" he called out, his voice sounding a little more nervous than he'd intended. She turned around, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. But the usual sparkle in her eyes had gone. Before her eyes would sparkle in the fluorescent light, and Sergio would find himself blushing, but this time was different.

"Hey, Sergio," she replied, her voice soft. "It's good to see you ." She walked over to him, her steps light. He noticed that she was wearing the same perfume she had been wearing the last time they'd met, and it made his heart race a little faster. But as she got closer Sergio could see something was wrong.

Fast forward to race night

The sun began to dip below the horizon, bathing the grid in a warm, golden light. The race was about to end. Everyone cheered as the drivers rushed past the checkered flag. Max at P1, Sergio at P2, and Carlos at P3.

The three men stood on the podium as they celebrated their wins. The crowd cheered and shouted celebrations. Fireworks exploded overhead, their colorful bursts of light painting the sky with a kaleidoscope of colors. It was a beautiful sight, one that would have filled her heart with joy on any other day. But tonight, the sound of the explosions sent her spiraling back to that fateful night, the night of the explosion that had taken the lives of so many, including those closest to her. the fireworks only served as a painful reminder of the day that had changed her life forever. She couldn't help but shiver as she stood on the edge of the crowd, her heart racing and her palms slick with sweat. The memory of the explosion was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday: the screams of terror, the heat that seared her skin, the deafening boom that shook the ground beneath her feet.

Sergio Checo Perez stood on his podium and searched the crowd for y/n. As soon as his eyes landed on y/n, He could see the pain in her eyes, the fear that gripped her soul, and in that moment he jumped off the podium and raced to y/n in the crowd. His fellow drivers and his team was shouting for him to come back and celebrate the win but he had to do everything in his power to make her feel safe, to make her feel loved. He knew that the accident was more than a normal accident that can happen on the job like she had said. He knew there was more to the story, he knew that the the memories were painful, he knew what was happening as he has experience people he knew go through the same thing and he could never erase the memories that haunted her, the demons that tormented her every waking moment.

Now, as she sat there, on the floor in the crowd, watching the fireworks light up the sky, she felt him approaching, his presence a warm, comforting blanket wrapping itself around her. He knelt down beside her, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. "Hey," he whispered, reaching out to take her hand. "You don't have to go through this alone." She didn't know if she could believe him, but for some reason, she found herself leaning into his touch, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within her. "I know it's hard," he continued, his voice gentle and soothing. "But we'll get through this together, okay?"

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for her to find peace, to find happiness again. And in that moment, she knew that she wasn't truly alone anymore.

They sat there together, watching the fireworks explode overhead, their fingers intertwined. As the last of the fireworks faded away, leaving the sky empty and black once more, Sergio leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're okay. You are safe with me," he whispered.

Y/n closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin. She knew he was right. Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his gaze once more. There was something in his eyes that she had never seen before, something that told her that he was in this for the long haul.

As they sat there, the wind picked up again, sending a shiver down her spine. But this time, it felt different. It felt like a new beginning, like a promise of better things to come. And for the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still goodness left in the world, still a reason to keep fighting, to keep going.

Hand in hand, they rose to their feet, the weight of memories and losses not so heavy now. Together, they began to walk through the paddock , their steps echoing through the darkness. As they walked, they talked, sharing stories and laughter, finding solace in the comfort of each other's company. And with every step they took, Y/n felt a little lighter, a little more at peace.

Eventually, they reached a small, secluded clearing, surrounded by tall, ancient trees just outside the circuit. Sergio turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for an answer. She knew what he was asking, and she knew what she wanted to say. Slowly, she nodded, her heart racing with anticipation and fear. He smiled, a soft, gentle smile that made her heart skip a beat, and then he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

As they kissed, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, their love for each other the only thing that mattered. And in that moment, Y/n knew that she had found her home, her place in the world after everything she had been through. She knew that together, they could face anything, overcome any obstacle. Because no matter what happened, they would always have each other.

#f1 fanfic #sergio perez #sergio perez x reader #carlos sainz #formula 1 #f1 x reader #checo perez #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 racing

[starstruckmoony]

illicit affairs.

masterlist

pairing - sirius black x slytherin!reader ft. jegulus

summary - you and sirius are dating in secret. so are james and regulus. and you all find out about it in the most ridiculous way possible.

trope/tags - established relationship, fluff, light smut but not really, shitty humour

word count - 2k

warnings - language, reference to sex

sneaking around hogwarts at ungodly hours of the night was not an activity you cherished very much. and that is mostly because of the outrageous amount of detentions you had managed to get due to being caught in places where you should not have been hanging around in. that was before you started dating sirius black, though. instead of dreading it, like you always did when you were basically forced to loom around the school with your friends because they felt like getting up to mischief, you began looking forward to slipping away from your dormitories.

sirius knew about many places in the school that were unfamiliar to you, but he was more than willing to reveal them all to you. you weren't sure how he did it, you'd asked him countless of times, as it seemed almost impossible to be so knowledgeable about all those hidden passages as a student. but he was always very secretive about it, acting like he would die if he told anyone.

you couldn’t push yourself to be mad at him, though. it was enough that he knew about the passages, which definitely came in handy and especially because you were both so eager to keep your relationship a secret. it was for the better, regulus was your best friend and telling him that you're dating his brother sounded like an absolute nightmare, so you settled for not saying a word to anybody. not even james.

"how'd you get out this time?" you quiered once sirius finally met you outside of the castle, intertwining his fingers with yours. you had snuck out through one of the passageways sirius previously showed you after the two of you agreed where you'll meet. convincing your friends that you were heading to the library to pick up some things from the restricted section was an easy task, so you wondered what sirius told his this time. you were starting to run out of excuses.

"told them i was going for a run." he grinned proudly.

"how convincing." you scoffed. who in the right mind would go on a run at ten in the bloody evening? well, james probably would, and you assumed that the idiot most likely believed sirius' lies.

"what? i'll be flushed when i return, anyway." and you will, too. your cheeks turned pink, and you kicked him playfully as you walked together.

"that is, if you return." you teased.

"is that a threat?" he challenged.

"well–" you bolted before he could reach out to catch you, heading straight for the forbidden forest. the place was rather familiar to the both of you, since it was one where you often spent time together. it seemed unlikely, but not very many students actually had the courage to lurk around on those grounds so late at night.

you kept on running, and you looked back to realise that sirius was much closer than you thought. you let out a huff of laughter when you almost tripped, and he took the opportunity to pull you by the hand and turn you around. he locked his arms around you and pressed you close to him, so much that you wouldn’t be able to run away again. not like you'd try, anyway.

he quickly pecked your lips, and then repeated the action several times before kissing you properly. doing this with sirius always felt... euphoric. not only because he was good at it, but because he always did it like it was the last time he'd ever get to do it. so he never really took it slow, his kisses got more eager by the second, and he didn't take long to move to your neck, either.

"you–" you opened your mouth to make a sarcastic remark because of sirius' wild enthusiasm, but he wasn't having any of it, "shut up." his lips were on yours once again, his thumb tracing over your jaw and neck. you held onto one another as you failed to keep your balance, laughing in between kisses, and then stumbling backwards and falling into the grass below you.

***

"you think we should go back?" you questioned as the smell of smoke filled the air. sirius lazily shook his head.

you pulled the cheap cigarette away from your lips and placed it between his. you nuzzled into him, burying your face into the crook of his neck and hugging him tightly. his arm was thrown around you, his hand resting on your bare hip. he took one last drag from the cigarette before he put it out and tossed it away.

you shifted in your spot, turning his chin towards you with your finger to peck his lips. he hovered over you, pinning you to the ground with a kiss that was a bit more heated than you had anticipated. he trailed his lips over to your shoulder and nibbled at it gently. then he kissed you again, and you tangled your fingers in his dark hair, curling the strands between your fingers. his hands found your sides, tickling them lightly. you squirmed in his hold, and you both laughed between kisses as he continued with the act.

a branch snapped. you froze for a moment, and then instinctively reached to cover each other's mouths, staring at one another in horror. you retrieved your hands once the sounds of walking faded into the distance, and sirius cast a silencing charm, just for extra precautions. it was a good thing you were hidden by a large tree, you were able to move and put at least some of your clothes back on without being noticed by the person who was somewhere in the distance behind you.

"if anyone finds us, you're as well as dead, potter." potter? a startled sound escaped you. sirius immediately sat up, much more alert than he was before. "calm down, i told you no one ever goes in here. and besides, my friends wouldn't go exploring without me." james responded to the mysterious person. a mysterious person who peculiarly sounded like your best friend.

"is that– is that reggie?" sirius whisper-yelled, obviously distressed. "i don't know, but it sounds an awful lot like him."

"probably? i need precise certainty here." regulus shot back, and you heard what appeared to be a smack which was followed by a pained 'ouch'.

"a bit too much like him." sirius furrowed his eyebrows. you could see that he was just as confused as you were, a million thoughts rushing through his mind. james and regulus? prongs and reggie? something definitely had to be up, because sirius' brother wouldn't just simply show up at the forbidden forest and with his best friend.

sirius risked it, and peeked his head behind the tree to make sure that this wasn't some sick prank. he cursed. much to his dismay, it was not.

"oh, it's them, alright." he hid himself once again, his expression sour. he shifted in his spot after pulling his trousers on, ready to get out there and confront the pair, but you pulled him back, "what are you–"

"shut up, i wanna see what's gonna happen." you shushed him, squinting your eyes in thought and listening attentively.

it was safe to say that you were pretty disappointed when the pair resorted to whispering, you were barely able to hear them. you sighed, reaching for sirius' sweater that was crumpled up somewhere at your feet and pulling it over your head. you noticed his smile in the corner of your eye.

"what?" you laughed. "nothing, it just looks better on you than it does on me." you blushed, burying your face into his shoulder. but then you heard it, a thump, the crunching of leaves, and laughing. bloody laughing. you lifted your head and exchanged a knowing glance with sirius. it was like both of you could tell what the other was thinking, and it wasn't any good.

"maybe they're studying?" sirius said, his voice a bit shaky. how you hoped they were.

"in here? and this late?" it was plausible, kind of... it wasn't, really, but you couldn't offer a better explanation, at least one that sirius wanted to hear. and it only got worse for him.

"can't you just cast the bloody charm?" regulus groaned frustratedly, only to be shushed by james who seemed a lot more relaxed. thoughtless as well.

"we don't need it." he reassured.

"potter, don't make me– oh." your jaw dropped. they were definitely not studying. sirius let out what sounded like a sob.

"james–" you burst out laughing, but your boyfriend looked like his whole world just crumpled. both his brother and best friend had been keeping secrets from him. you didn't have time to be angry at regulus, though, too busy clutching your stomach as you watched sirius regret and question absolutely everything. it was rather ridiculous, as all four of you turned out to be nothing but a bunch of dirty little liars.

it would have been hilarious if the noises hadn't got worse. they became almost unbearable and you were seconds away from standing up to get the bloody hell out of there, not even caring about making your presence known. but then sirius became strangely calm, and it was a bit scary, like he was plotting something. you found out that he was rather soon, and you miserabley failed at snatching his wand away before he uncast the charm you two had set.

"if you two don't shut the fuck up, i swear to merl–"

"sirius!" you chastised, but realised your  mistake about a second too late.

"y/n?!" regulus exclaimed. you heard another thump and assumed that was the sound of james landing on the ground after the other pushed him off.

"hi, reg." you laughed awkwardly,

"sirius, we can explain–" james started, only to be cut off by regulus, "we?!" he screeched.

"yes, you!" sirius shot back.

"you have my best friend with you!" the younger whisper-yelled.

"and my best friend has my brother with him!" sirius argued.

"i can see how that's worse, really." james added, only to get a jumper thrown in his face. an awkward silence ensued. of course, what else could happen? you were all caught red-handed, and the feeling was not particularly pleasant.

"i say we pretend this never happened." james broke it, obviously, if anybody was gonna do it, it was him.

"yeah, right, like that's gonna work after what i just had to hear." sirius scoffed, crossing his arms. you peeked your head from behind the tree, just as regulus did from the one him and james used to hide. you had a staring contest for several seconds, and then flipped each other off before dissolving into laughter.

just then, remus and peter came walking by. it was like a cherry on top, and it only made you and regulus laugh harder. the tall boy looked at you in shock. sirius and james (very smartly) revealed themselves too, and remus felt like turning back and leaving.

"what the fuck, guys?" he sighed, not even sure if he wanted to know the explanation behind this.

"why do i always miss everything?" peter whined, not the least bit affected by what he just saw, but more that he wasn't there to witness the good part. if there even was one, that is.

"nice evening, huh?" james said to try and defuse the tension, and regulus rolled his eyes in disproval, falling back into the grass with a loud groan.

turns out that the two came looking for your boyfriend and his best friend since both of the idiots were gone at the same time. judging by how easily they located you all, you realised that whatever they did was also whatever sirius does when he always 'spontaneously' manages to find you. and you were definitely gonna make him tell you how he does it after this.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x slytherin!reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot #sirius black drabble #sirius black headcanon #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius black smut #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #jegulus #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #the marauders #taylor lyrics posing as my fic titles once again #i love this song

[pianocat939]

Unjust Punishment: Prologue

I love 2nd person, and no one can do anything about it-

Summary: Art block is a bitch, and your dumb self went out to the woods to paint a few landscapes. But of course, some crazy things happen *ahem* feral horse *ahem*, and you end up nowhere near where you were.

Tw: implied attempted murder, attempted beheading, MC gets so tired they're a bit delirious

Word Count: 1.1 K

Taglist: @dewdropthesimp @msvanillabean (Inbox or comment if you want to be added-)

This mountain fucking sucks. You aren't at all an active person, but this is just pure torture; scaling up the path while your ankles are halfway dead. At least you could see the top now, maybe another 15 more minutes of pain.

Finally, after reaching the top, there's a feeling of relaxation. No more coughing and wheezing like someone with Tuberculosis. You turn to admire the view before you: every tree top, every bird, and every bush. It simply maybe was worth your struggle. The sight is wonderful and gives great inspiration to your clouded mind.

Being an avid landscape painter, you had a fair share of going on different trips to paint the view. But this time around, a block had been in your way, and you haven't been able to wave the brush like you usually could. So what better than to spend a few days on the mountain, and paint whatever you see? It's a truly great method to pull you out of the entangles of no creativity.

You settle your luggage somewhere, only taking your easel and canvas. After setting up the items, you dig around for your paints, finding them shoved into the bottom bag. Vermilion, Prussian Blue, that ugly bastard yellow that no one likes but is also crucial for shadows...You have them all.

You take out a pencil and do a rough sketch of the landforms of the scenery before taking a light blue and painting over the entire canvas as the initial background. Soon, you start filling in each leaf and blade of grass, making dots and sharp strokes. Your mind turns blank, as concentration fills your head in a heavy, but empty void.

——————————————————

Once the sun sets, you set up your sleeping site in a rush. You were so concentrated on your painting you forgot you're in the fucking woods with a bunch of feral creatures lurking around. Fortunately, you actually practiced once or twice getting everything ready and managed to finish in record time.

By the time it's nightfall, you're still not quite ready to sleep, so you laze around on your phone, scrolling through your latest interests. You oddly felt calm, despite being in an unfamiliar place, alone. The isolation didn't feel foreign, if anything, it was nice compared to your hectic life.

That is until you hear a neigh. You know your animal sounds. That was a horse. Confused more than ever, you glanced out the makeshift, plastic window. There was in fact a horse. You could only see its hooves, but you could tell it was a gigantic horse. Its black legs and honed clipper-clapper hooves are a bit intimidating.

Then, the horse started to dash, at full speed.

In sudden panic, you took your phone and ran, out the exit. You didn't want to be squashed by a feral horse! After reaching the outside, you head for the nearby path, carefully skidding on the downhill parts. The horse was still running after you, and it freaked you out. Equinophobia was so real. As soon as the path was flat, you turned your direction into a zig-zag formation, trying to confuse the horse.

When you passed a tall pine tree, an object came flying at you, barely missing your head. You felt your heart stop, and your mind go blank for a split second. It was an axe. A fucking axe. First the feral horse, and now flying axes? Your night just went from peaceful to an absolute murder chase. You were basically running on adrenaline and nothing else as you dashed.

The moon illuminated the surface, bright and shining in a silvery colour. If it weren't for the fact you're trying not to collapse and freak out, you would have found the moon another lovely view to paint. Now that your frazzled mind leads back to awareness, exhaustion is really kicking in. You can't even hear the clapping of the horse's hooves anymore. In a desperate attempt at security, you leave the route, sitting on the nearby grass within the shadow of the trees.

You're already witnessing some stereotypical horror story not even five hours in. At least you didn't have to call the emergency number. Maybe in an hour, you can wander back to your settlement and go back home. You missed your bed; your wonderful bed.

"Hey...Are you ok?" A distant voice called, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You blinked and glanced behind your shoulder, deciding whether the voice was a threat, or not. It didn't sound hostile in fact, it felt familiar. Like someone you knew. You stood up, the slight ache in your knees more prominent than ever.

"Are you lost? Hurt?"

You slowly climbed the hill, eyes wide in curiosity as you approached to the source of the voice. You weren't lost or hurt, but something strange and eerie about the calling made you want to see the person behind it. You heaved yourself up the hill, using your abilities to your best. You aren't an athlete, nor an athletic person. You're a painter for fucks sake.

After a few moments, you call out, responding to the message, "Hello? Is someone up here?" You don't know exactly what you were doing, but you hoped for the best. The scare you had earlier made your heart crave comfort. This stranger probably just had a similar voice to someone you knew, but in a way, your body automatically wanted to go towards it. You notice a figure through the thin silhouettes of the trees. Your pace picked up a bit as you waddled through the grass.

The person turned their head, making a lovely smile. They were in a perfect pose, sitting on a spacious boulder underneath the moonlight. The sight was almost like a perfect shot from a movie. Your eyes picked up the shade of Rouge painted across their lips. The deep red highlighted their features nicely.

But in a flash, the person disappeared. Before you could even utter a word, your body tumbles back down the hill; bumping into every rock and twig in sight. It was painful at every impact. Your spine and head pounding terribly. What had happened? You couldn't muster any thoughts. All you could remember was the image of the lipstick.

You landed on the flat ground not long after. You're too exhausted, too out of it to bother sitting up. You just mindlessly stare at the sky, a few twinkling stars laughing upon your pitiful state. Wow, the phrase "Karma is a bitch" has never been more apparent than ever in your life. You should have listened to your close ones about not going out to the wilderness alone. Well, what could you do? You hoped no serial killer would hunt you down. You're tired. You need sleep. Getting murdered can happen another day for you.

You close your eyes...

——————————————————

WOWWW I ACTUALLY GOT SOMETHING DONE FOR ONCE-

Literally this is probably more confusing and disorganized than it is logical, but hey- my little brain tried lmao

Originally, I was gonna make this a much longer part, (as in including Mikey's introduction) but because of how busy my weekend turned out I had to cut it short.

Fun fact: all the weird shit that goes on in this part is a foreshadowing of the upcoming weirdos haha- I'm so smart /sarc

Well- that's all I got for now. Goodbye world as I turn dead for a whole week and come back to life later-

- Celina

#rottmnt #yandere rottmnt #yandere x reader #rottmnt x reader #yandere tmnt #tmnt x reader #yandere #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #bullshitting is so real homie

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

“It’s okay. They’re gone now.”, but with the reader stopping Mark Heathcliff from committing death and saving him from le Alternates

After you finally arrived at Mark's house--having exceeded several speed limits in doing so--you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, hands still gripping the steering wheel despite the car being off.

You had no idea how you managed to drive all the way here when your mind was so preoccupied with worries and fears. But you made it anyways, despite him telling you over the phone several hours ago that you really shouldn't come.

Given the rise in Alternate activity all over Mandela County...why wouldn't you?

Why wouldn't you wanna be with the man you knew and loved?

You, him, Sarah, and Cesar grew up in this county together, having known them since you were around 4-5 years old.

All of you went to the same elementary school, becoming practically inseparable since the day you met each other.

Although most of your earliest childhood memories faded into the back of your mind, there was one in particular that always stuck with you:

The time Mark presented his class with the story of an "imaginary friend" lurking in the darkness of his house--who was actually an Alternate that spared him for some unknown reason.

He was sent down to the office by the concerned teacher and was harshly reprimanded by his parents for drawing "demons".

You and Cesar didn't see him until recess, where he sat all alone, bursting into tears when you asked if he was okay. You comforted him and reassured him you liked his story, saying that everyone who laughed or stared at him were "weirdos", which made him laugh a little. And he became your best friend ever since.

Looking back, you realized that encounter left a profound impact on him, given how he's grown up with heavy devotion to God: always going to church, praying before every meal and before going to sleep, writing affirmations in his notebook, refusing temptations to smoke weed, and more.

The truth was that he held extreme religious guilt all his life, along with an irrational fear of the dark. His mental health was never the best as he struggled with self-worth a lot of times, but you stuck by his side as a supportive friend, and he appreciated it more than you knew. Even Sarah saw how good you've been towards her brother.

Around the start of high school, Mark fell for you hard and fast, but never worked up the courage to ask you out until Cesar suggested that he invited you to the end-of-the-year dance. With some encouragement, he finally did and was shocked when you immediately said "yes".

And, well...the rest is history.

You've been dating for about a year now, and your presence continues to be a comfort for him, especially on the difficult days where he felt like God had "turned his back" on him.

And with the ongoing Alternate threat, your commitment to this relationship was ultimately tested as you two tried existing as a normal couple, while always being cautious about everything.

That being said....it was most unusual for Mark to miss school.

Sarah and Cesar were both out of town, so he didn't have any reason to be absent.

Then you got a call from him after you got back home, with your boyfriend informing you that he was sick, keeping the conversation rather short as he insisted that you didn't come over, worried that you'll catch whatever he got.

But what confused you the most was how he described his "sickness", claiming that he had a stomach bug....yet when he called you the next day, he said it was the common cold.

Even he seemed perplexed when you asked him which one it was.

That response was extremely suspicious. You knew he was a good and honest man--and he sure as hell knew the difference between the two.

Unless...that wasn't actually your Mark...

Something was definitely wrong, and you wanted to find out what.

So you drove over to his place under the cover of nighttime, taking a metal bat with you in case you had to break any windows or bash an Alternate's head in.

Hopefully, it didn't come to the latter...but you never know.

You would've taken up a firearm as the broadcast advised all residents to in the face of an Alternate encounter, though Mark already had a gun. Even so, you figured it's better to have a different kind of backup weapon in case he misfired or bullets proved ineffective.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you got out of the car and entered the house, immediately learning it was unlocked. That alone caused your anxiety to spike as you frantically searched for Mark.

It wasn't long before you heard the sounds of muffled sobbing coming from his bedroom. You were relieved to hear he was still alive, and knocked on the door in a specific rhythm that 100% confirmed it was you and nobody else.

The sobs eventually stopped and you heard sniffling on the other side.

"[Y/n]...?"

"Yes, it's me, Mark." You gently called out. "It's alright. You can open--"

"You'retoolatetoolatetoolatetoolate..."

Hearing the sudden eerie whispers from behind you, you shivered as you glanced over your shoulder...immediately wishing you stayed ignornant.

There at the end of the hallway, you spotted a tall shadowy figure with glowing white eyes staring back at you.

Its hair.

Its suit.

That rose in its pocket.

It looked a lot like-

You didn't have time to fully register what or who you were exactly looking at, as the door flew open and you were yanked inside the room by the arm.

The Alternate saw its opportunity and laughed hysterically. "THANK YOU, FRIEND-D-D!!" It cackled in a horrid, distorted voice before it began charging down the hallway at a near-blinding speed.

But luckily it didn't get in as you kicked the door shut on its face, quickly locking it as it wrestled for control over the doorknob. All the while, it shrieked angrily, cursing you and Mark in several different voices--one of them sounding like Cesar's--and knocked rapidly, desperate to break the door down.

Eventually, though, all of that stopped and you backed away, seeing the shadows underneath the door lingering for a few long moments...before they faded away.

Only now did you see it was riddled with a bullethole or two.

Finally breathing a sigh of relief, you turned around and saw Mark curled up in the corner of the bedroom, the gun by his feet and a bible hugged to his chest.

"Mark.." You were utterly shattered at his disheveled state as you approached and kneeled down in front of him, taking in everything.

His face was sweaty and stained in tears, heavy bags were under his eyes, and he was completely shaken. He looked as though he hadn't slept in ages, flinching as you reached out to him.

It ached your heart to see him jump to the brief assumption that you're an Alternate, but you cupped his cheek ever-so gently, and his shoulders relaxed.

"It's really me, sweetheart..it's me. I'm here." You murmured, wrapping him up in a hug which he instantly melted into, utterly exhausted from everything.

He started sobbing again, burying his face into your shoulder as he mumbled incoherent things, his voice hysterical. You just rubbed his back, hushing him softly.

This just confirmed your worst fear.

He wasn't sick at all.

That thing got inside his home, keeping him hostage here while fooling you into thinking he was alright and had a small cold...when in reality he was suffering and likely being induced with M.A.D.

Thank god you outsmarted it.

Otherwise..you had no idea what could've happened. You didn't even wanna think about it.

"It's okay. They're gone now.." You soothed as your hand stroked the back of his hair, feeling him letting go of the bible so he could hug you as well, clinging desperately to you.

This felt so..familiar.

It's like you were at recess all over again, comforting this scared, lonely boy who witnessed unimaginable horrors.

A minute or so passed before the sobs that filled the room fell into silence, aside from the occasional sniffles. But even after Mark was calm enough to let you go, he kept his head bowed, afraid to look directly into your eyes.

He's still terrified that it got in somehow, wearing your skin, and that this was all just a trick; he didn't want the illusion to be shattered.

Though as you gently cupped his tearstained cheeks, he was finally able to see that it's really you in front of him.

You're still you.

His lips trembled as you planted a gentle kiss on them, before you leaned back to brush away the tears. You had to blink back your own, wanting to be strong for his sake.

Finally Mark spoke, his voice still hoarse from all the screaming he's done before you arrived. "H-How..did you know..?"

"I just..had a bad feeling." You shrugged. "That thing tried mimicking you when it called me, saying you were sick and not to come over here.."

"It did...?" His eyes widened in horror. "It..It must have used the other phone out there...fuck-!!"

He crumbled again, clinging to you for support. His body shuddered several times, the realization sinking in.

That Alternate tried its hardest to keep you two separated. It knew that you were closest to him and wanted to ensure that he died all alone, without you ever knowing what really became of him.

It could have worn his skin and targeted you next.

But it failed.

Thank god.

You held him tightly, rubbing his back again. "Shh, it's alright. Clearly, those freaks can't fake an illness for shit. It wasn't gonna fool me and keep me away from you. Not my sweet angel."

"...I-I don't know what I'd do without you, [y/n].." He began weeping, this time in joy and relief. "God finally heard me...! I-I was starting to think He just...left me all alone. But H-He knew I needed help and...and you came.."

"I did. He's with you, and so am I." Smiling softly, you let him cry for a few moments longer, before you helped him to his feet. You both exchanged another kiss; this one lasted much longer, proving that your love was going to triumph over those demons.

Once you broke the kiss, Mark sniffled as he rubbed his eyes. "C-Can we get out of here now? I-I'll..tell you everything later."

"Yeah." You nodded, taking him by the hand. "Let's go while we still can."

#this good christian boi deserves better fr #clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #mark heathcliff x reader #hurt/comfort #angst/horror

[phyllisthefirst]

No tired sigh, no rolling eye, no irony - Part 1

[So, after rewatching the episodes and lurking in the Band of Brothers fandom for a few months, I've decided to finally get active myself and try my hand at a little writing. I love so many of the Easy Boys, but I felt like giving Luz some attention, so here we are. I haven't really had time to do much research yet, so there'll be a lot of inaccuracies to handwave away.

Obviously, this fic is based on the fictionalized representation of the Easy Company men as portrayed on the show. I intend no disrespect to the real men.]

[Masterlist] [on ao3]

Part 1

The first time Phyllis Baker meets George Luz, he nearly knocks her over with his radio. He can't really be blamed for the collision - the radio's a heavy, unwieldy thing and she guesses he's only just received it and hasn't had time to familiarise himself with it yet. And she was the one who rounded the corner at full speed, still riled up from another morning's worth of being overlooked and talked down to and sent for coffee instead of doing her actual job. It's the perfect blend of ingredients for an explosive collision.

"Watch where you're going, Private!", she snaps. "That radio is top-of-the-line equipment, and the military certainly wouldn't want to see it wasted on someone who can't even manage to navigate a corridor, let alone a warzone."

The effect of her words is immediate: The young man's face falls, overcome with a mixture of shame, guilt and fear. His big, brown eyes widen until he resembles nothing so much as a kicked puppy. And Phyllis feels her insides sink as if her stomach had been filled with stones.

"I'm so sorry, Ma'am. I should have paid better attention."

Phyllis runs a hand through her hair, a nervous habit she's spent years trying to suppress that's been coming back with a vengeance lately.

"It's not your fault; I didn't watch where I was going. I should apologize for snapping at you."

She doesn't know why she says those words. Never apologize unless you absolutely have to , that's what she's been trying to drill into herself, because every apology these men hear makes them more sure in their assumption that they're better than her. But something about him makes her forget about that self-imposed rule.

Oh, who is she kidding - it's the eyes.

"Did you just get assigned a radioman?" She nods her head towards the radio, although it's fairly obvious that was her clue.

He nods his head, vigorously.

"Yes! We got our designations at breakfast, and this morning we'll begin our specialized training."

"Well, then you better pay close attention - you and that radio may be the difference between reinforcements or defeat one day."

He nods again, somehow even more energetically, tucks his radio under his left arm and raises his right in a salute.

"Yes, Ma'am."

For a second, she thinks he's mocking her. But his face is earnest as ever, the salute perfectly executed and held until the radio under his arm begins to slip and he has to support it with his right. Then she realizes: He thinks she's an officer, or a sergeant at least. He sees the modified WAC uniform she's wearing and doesn't even question why there are no sergeant's stripes, no lieutenant's bars on her jacket.

He doesn't question that she belongs here.

He might be the first man to do so.

She's still working through that revelation, staring at him wordlessly, when he clears his throat and hitches the radio higher up under his arm.

"I ought to get going, Ma'am, or I'll be late for training."

"Of course. It's been nice meeting you, Private..."

"Luz, George Luz."

"Private Luz. Have a good first day of radio training."

With that, she turns to walk away, all her social graces depleted for the day - only to be stopped in her steps when he calls out:

"What's your name, Ma'am?"

When she turns back around, he's smiling, open and curious, and she can't help but smile back.

"Perhaps we'll meet again, George Luz. I'll tell you then."

He laughs.

"I'll hold you to it."

It only occurs to her when she's already rounded the corner that that exchange might be misconstrued as flirting.

What a ridiculous idea, she tells herself. As if any man would ever think that she was flirting with him.

***

The second time George Luz meets Phyllis Baker, he gets the feeling she's trying very hard not to be seen.

He doesn't know why she thinks it would work - even with her shoulders slouched, her hair up in a severe bun and her lipstick a subtle, natural shade she's still awe-inspiring in her olive drab skirt and jacket and still very much a woman, and those are rare around here.

He's been wondering about that, actually: What is she doing here? There are women preparing for the war, he knows that, but they aren't necessarily stationed at Aldbourne. The nurses are in nearby Swindon, and he hasn't yet seen any members of the WAC around here.

But then, what better excuse to approach her than to ask about exactly that?

He mumbles an excuse to Tab and Perco, with whom he was on the way to The Crown after snagging a rare weekend pass, and jogs over to where she's standing by a half-unloaded supply truck, frowning at a clipboard.

"Ma'am? I believe you still owe me a name."

She startles at being addressed, clearly very engrossed in her task, and he feels momentarily bad for disturbing her. But after a moment's struggle to get her bearings, she seems to recognize him, and even smiles.

"Private Luz! How's the radio training coming along?"

"It's going well! I think. At least I haven't blown the whole thing up yet."

She laughs, the melodic sound at odds with her severe appearance. Together with the fact that she remembered his name, the sound makes him bold.

"But don't believe you can distract me from my goal: Your name...?"

"Phyllis Baker. But I have to correct you right there: I'm not an officer, so you don't have to address me as such. I'm sorry I let you believe otherwise the last time we met."

He shrugs.

"It was my mistake, wasn't it? Not your job to teach me how to read someone's insignia." He tilts his head to look at the sleeves on her uniform, but they don't really clear things up. "But if I may ask - what is your rank? And why are you here?"

The second the question is out, George has to fight the urge to slap his forehead. Of all the ways he could have posed that question... His cousin joined the WAC and told him a little about what the women have to put up with in response to their attempt at joining the war effort - doubt, hostility, and outright smear campaigns questioning their morals simply for joining up. He guesses she knows a little about those difficulties as well, and the pinched expression on her face suggests the same. He quickly corrects himself.

"I mean, what division are you with? I didn't know there were WACs at Aldbourne."

"There aren't. I'm with the 506th, to support the logistics and supply officers."

He nods, not fully understanding yet but not stupid enough to ask for more details. But before he can ask, she blurts out:

"Which means I know more about logistics than most of the men around me, but they still insist on ignoring my advice in favour of sending me to get coffee."

She's barely finished speaking when her eyes widen comically.

"I mean... I didn't mean to say..."

The surprise on her face turns to outright fear, and he quickly reaches out to place a calming hand on hers, right where she grips the clipboard with white-knuckle force.

"No need to explain. Our CO's an absolute ass."

For a moment, the fear in her eyes remains, then it slowly eases out, replaced by a relieved smile. He drops his hand, surprised to find himself reluctant to do so. Her skin is soft, surprisingly so for such a pragmatic-seeming woman.

"Most of my superiors are sensible men, luckily. They just have their difficulties accepting that they're supposed to work with a woman sometimes."

He nods, not quite knowing what to say to that - he can imagine but probably never quite understand what she's dealing with. Then something else occurs to him.

"So, where did you learn so much about logistics?"

She hesitates for a moment, the way he's seen her do before.

"My father is in the import trade. I've been helping him at the office since I was a little girl, and I’ve been running his entire office for the European branch for years."

George whistles through his teeth.

"That sounds like a lot of responsibility. And you gave all of that up just to come here and fetch coffee?"

She laughs again, a sound he's quickly becoming addicted to.

"We all should do our part, shouldn't we?" She tilts her head to study him, and he suddenly feels like a specimen under a microscope. It's a strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation.

"What about you, Private Luz? How did you end up here?"

He shrugs - compared to her, he doesn't have any special knowledge to add to the war effort - just his body and a certain recklessness he hopes will translate into fearlessness, when the time calls for it.

"Like most of the men - Pearl Harbour was attacked, and I figured I better sign up to do something ." He grins, aware that he's making himself seem a little too selfless with that description. "Plus, the pay's double for a paratrooper."

She laughs again.

"So is the risk, I hear."

"Hopefully the glory as well."

It's a stupid thing to say - sure, he doesn't mind the attention his uniform gets him when they're out trying to impress women - even though he never takes it quite as far as some of the others, presenting sob stories of their impending heroic death in the pursuit of some female attention. But he probably should try and make himself look a little more upstanding in front of her, shouldn't he? Then again, he has a feeling she'd see right through any front he'd try to put up.

"You're the first ones to attempt dropping out of airplanes into occupied territory. I'm sure your place in history is secure."

He doesn't know what to say to that, but he doesn't have to come up with an answer: Behind them, Muck, Penkala and Malarkey are passing by on their way to the pub and calling out to him.

"Hey Luz, you about done bothering the lady?", Penk calls out, and George suppresses the urge to send him a rude gesture. He does have some manners.

"You're not bothering me," she says, a little hastily, and he swears he can see the faint hint of a blush on her cheeks. "But I don't want to keep you from your friends."

"Why don't you just come with us? Or join us later, if you still have work to do."

She looks at the truck beside her, grimacing.

"I do, unfortunately. Half of that truckload was supposed to go to Littlecote, but no one seems to be able to figure out which half. I'm afraid I'll be here a little while longer."

"That's a shame. Some other time then? You gotta meet the guys - we're both part of the same division after all."

"Sure, maybe some other day."

That doesn't sound very convincing, but George chooses to believe it's just because she's mentally preparing to go back to work, and not because she isn't all that keen on going to the pub with him.

"Well, if you ever find the time, look for us at The Crown. If you can't find me, just ask around for Easy Company, and the boys will take care of you."

"Easy Company, huh? I've heard of you."

"That's cause we're the best. Have been since Toccoa."

"Is that right," she teases.

"That's right," is his firm reply, followed by an equally firm "and we'll prove it just as soon as they finally drop us into Germany."

With that, he jogs off to catch up with Skip, Penk and Malarkey. When he turns around to look back at her, Phyllis's head is already bent over her clipboard again.

#band of brothers #george luz #band of brothers fic #George Luz/OC #Hi! Im new to this fandom and I havent posted a fic in years #So I'm super nervous but excited.

[chi-the-idiot]

I've had an idea for a WHILE now (as in like, for about a year ever since I first saw Negative Legend's video on the show) of making a Regal Academy fan rewrite, either in fic or comic form.

The premise is basically the same, Rose gets isekaied to the fae world and Regal Academy itself, wherein she discovers that fairy tales are actually real and she is taken in by headmistress cinderella under the excuse that she is her grandmother. The story follows very closely to the actual show, Rose building herself a close group of friends and having to excell in all her clases.

The actual change is in the worldbuilding, more specifically the magic sistem. It always felt weird to me how the princesses had magic, since their original fairy tales centered around them being human damsels in some horrible situation, where magic from a third party either saves them or puts them in danger. So, the sistem is as follows:

In this world, there are two primary species. Humans, who are born without magic. And fae, who are naturally adept.

Humans can, however, learn magic from the direct teachings of the fae, which grants them the title of sorcerers.

Sorcerers can then teach magic to other humans, but the magic these lower sorcerers have is significantly smaller. They can, however, become high sorcerers themselves if they decide to study alongside fae in their kingdom (a secluded land that not many are privy to)

A second option is that a child is born from the union of a fae and another being, but that is improbable due to the hermit nature of faries.

The third and final option is strictly forbidden, having been concieved as inhumane: to become a witch.

To do so, someone must kidnap and restrain a fairy, extracting the magic from them. Its an archaic form of magical activity, and is no longer practiced. In theory, at least, because 20 years before the events of the story, catastrophy struck when a fairy was found dead in a cabin in the woods, originally belonging to three bears. The witch was caught and encarcerated, but some suspect that she might have had descendants.

This is what Rose and her friends discover to be the case, upon realizing that Vicky and Cyrus are planning to kidnap a fairy themselves. It is now their job to stop them.

However, darker secrets lurk in the shadows. A broken family, a corrupted mother, and a story of loss and vengance that will catch up with its protagonist sooner or later. You can turn off the clock before it strikes 12, and you can turn your head and ignore the ringing bells. But time continues, the magic fades, and all pretenses are dropped once and for all. Truth is oftentimes hurtful, but can you really ignore it for the sake of a "happily ever after"?

#regal academy #regal academy rewrite

[mysticwitc]

Part 1 of my story

As you enter Mystic Falls, you are immediately struck by the picturesque beauty of the town. Lush greenery surrounds the quaint houses and shops, giving the town a sense of tranquility. The streets are lined with charming old buildings, some dating back to the town's founding in 1860 by the Founding Families.

But beneath the surface of this seemingly idyllic town lies a dark secret. Mystic Falls has a long history of supernatural beings, including vampires, witches, and werewolves. These creatures have lived among the townspeople for generations, causing fear and mystery to shroud the town.

Despite its dark past, Mystic Falls is a vibrant and bustling community. The town square is always buzzing with activity, from farmers markets to festivals celebrating the town's rich history. The locals are friendly and welcoming, although there is always an underlying tension due to the presence of supernatural beings.

As you explore Mystic Falls, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. The town's aura is both enchanting and unsettling, with its hidden secrets lurking just beneath the surface. Mystic Falls is a place of contradictions, where beauty and danger coexist in perfect harmony.

Clover and Tyler sat down at a table in the corner of the Mystic Grill, the dim lighting casting a warm glow over their faces. They exchanged nervous smiles, both unsure of what to say next after so much time apart.

"So, it's been a while," Tyler finally broke the silence, looking down at his drink.

"Yeah, it has," Clover agreed, swirling the ice cubes in her own glass. "But I couldn't ignore your call. You sounded..." she paused, searching for the right word, "urgent."

"So how can a witch lose her powers?" Tyler asked, genuinely curious.

Clover, with a mouthful of fries, paused before answering. "Well, she can lose them from the elders because she used them for personal gain," she explained between bites.

Tyler nodded, absorbing the information. "That makes sense. It's like there are rules and consequences for using magic."

Clover nodded in agreement, wiping her hands on a napkin. "Exactly. Magic is a powerful force and it must be respected. Otherwise, it can be taken away just as easily as it was granted."

The conversation continued on, touching upon different aspects of magic and the consequences of misusing it.

Caroline couldn't shake the feeling of jealousy as she watched Tyler talking to Clover. Stefan and Elena noticed Caroline's unease and decided to follow her as she approached the pair.

"Who's this?" Caroline asked, her voice tinged with a hint of jealousy.

Tyler introduced Clover as the daughter of a Charmed one, explaining that she was even more powerful than Bonnie. Caroline felt a pang of insecurity at the thought of someone being more powerful than her friend.

As they all sat down to talk, Caroline realized that Clover was actually quite nice and down-to-earth. They ended up having a great conversation, exchanging stories of their supernatural experiences and bonding over their shared struggles.

By the end of the night, Caroline had let go of her jealousy and had gained a new friend in Clover. And she realized that there was room for all of them to coexist in their supernatural world.

Clover born on 18th June to Dean Winchester and Piper Halliwell. She is part of a big, magical family that includes her uncle Sam Winchester, aunts Prue and Phoebe Halliwell, and aunt Paige Matthews. Her stepfather, Leo Wyatt, has raised her as his own, showing her love and support every step of the way.

As a Gemini, Clover possesses a dual nature that often keeps those around her on their toes. She is a witch, gifted with powers passed down through her family lineage, which includes the powerful Halliwell family, the Winchester family, and the Warren line. She is also connected to the Campbell family.

Clover's siblings, Wyatt and Chris Halliwell, are her closest companions, and they navigate the magical world together. With her unique blend of familial connections and magical abilities, Clover is a force to be reckoned with.

Clover walked over to Damon in the crowded Mystic Grill and greeted him with a friendly smile. "Hey, Damon. I heard you were in San Francisco last year. That's my hometown, you know?" she asked.

Damon chuckled and replied, "Oh yeah, I was there briefly. I must have missed running into you while I was there."

"So, you took Elena there trying to find a way to turn her humanity on?" Clover asked Damon, her voice filled with curiosity.

Damon took a moment before answering, his gaze focused on Elena. "Yeah, I thought maybe if she saw someone she cared about, it would trigger something inside her," he replied, his voice tinged with hope.

 Stefan approached Damon and Clover with an awkward smile on his face. "Sorry about my brother," he began, "he can be a bit sarcastic and very into pop culture."

Clover shrugged, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's okay, I'm the same way. Just add stubbornness on top," she replied with a laugh.

The three of them settled into their chairs, the sound of other patrons buzzing around them. They engaged in a lively conversation, sharing stories and jokes, their personalities blending together in a harmonious way.

Caroline is described as having striking blonde hair that cascades down her shoulders in soft waves. Her piercing blue eyes are often described as sparkling with intelligence and curiosity.

Caroline is known for her effortlessly chic style and graceful demeanor. She carries herself with confidence and grace, exuding a sense of approachability and warmth that draws others to her.

Her features are delicate and feminine, with high cheekbones and a perfect smile that lights up her face. She often wears minimal makeup, preferring a more natural look that enhances her beauty without overpowering it.

Elena is described as having straight dark brown hair, which sets her apart from her counterpart Katherine, whose hair is curly. Elena also has dark brown eyes that seem to hold a depth of emotion within them.

It is mentioned that Elena is of Bulgarian descent, which adds a unique cultural aspect to her character. Despite their differences in heritage, Katherine and Elena share a striking resemblance to each other, often being mistaken for one another due to their doppelganger status.

Bonnie with her clear and soft light brown skin, Bonnie exudes a natural radiance that draws others in. Her long, luxurious dark brown or soft black wavy hair cascades down her shoulders, adding a touch of elegance to her overall look.

But it is Bonnie's striking green eyes that truly set her apart. They sparkle with intelligence and depth, hinting at a world of thoughts and emotions beneath the surface. Those who meet her are often captivated by the intensity of her gaze, finding it hard to look away.

Stefan Standing at a slightly above average height of around 5'11", Stefan possesses a lean, flat-muscled, and athletic physique. His toned body hints at the dedication and passion he invests in maintaining a healthy lifestyle. This physicality not only enhances his overall appeal but also suggests a certain level of endurance and strength that may come into play later in our story.

Moving on to his fashion sense, Stefan exudes an air of trendiness combined with casualness. He keeps up with the current trends without compromising his comfortable, laid-back style. Stefan is the kind of person who effortlessly pulls off a well-coordinated outfit, whether it be a crisp white t-shirt paired with faded denim jeans or a cool leather jacket and sneakers. His fashion choices reflect modern sensibilities while also maintaining a touch of relaxed sophistication. This effortless sense of style contributes to his overall charisma and appeal.

Now, let's explore a unique aspect of Stefan's appearance—a tattoo. Positioned on his right shoulder, Stefan proudly displays a beautifully inked rose. This rose symbolizes different things to him, perhaps representing love or the delicate balance between beauty and strength. It may also serve as a reminder of some significant event or person in his life, lending depth and intrigue to his character.

Among Stefan's distinctive accessories is a large, silver lapis lazuli daylight ring adorning the middle finger of his right hand.

Stefan possesses classical handsomeness intertwined with athleticism, resulting in a striking presence whenever he enters a room. His brooding nature and intense aura draw people in, leaving them intrigued by the mysteries that lie deep within his soul.

If you were to observe Stefan closely, the first thing you would notice is his pale complexion. It almost seems as though he is immersed in the mysteries of the night, his skin glowing gently in contrast. His broad forehead gracefully frames his face, accentuating his strong bone structure, particularly his angular jawline that adds a touch of masculinity to his features.

His eyes, deep-set and captivating, shimmer with the hues of a serene forest. Their rich, vibrant green color can enchant even the most indifferent of onlookers. They hold stories untold, secrets waiting to be unveiled.

A straight nose, proud and well-formed, perfectly aligns with Stefan's other features. It seems to be an extension of his enigmatic persona. Beneath this strong facial structure resides a well-shaped mouth that can curve into a heartwarming smile, one that radiates kindness and warmth when it graces his face. His straight, short, dark blonde hair is often styled with gel or spiked, adding a touch of edginess to his overall appearance.

Damon is undoubtedly a sight to behold, possessing a striking handsomeness that catches the attention of those around him. Standing at the admirable height of 5'10", he carries himself with confidence, further enhancing his allure. His well-built and toned physique speaks of a dedication to physical fitness, making it evident that he takes care of himself.

Despite his age surpassing 170 years, Damon's appearance defies the passing of time. He bears the countenance of a man in his mid-twenties, with a youthful exuberance radiating from his every expression. It is truly remarkable how his ageless charm captivates both young and old alike.

Damon's complexion is a testament to his unique beauty. A light complexion with subtle olive undertones lends an exotic touch to his overall appearance. Accentuating his facial structure are his high cheekbones, which add a touch of angularity to his features. Complementing this attribute is a solid jawline, hinting at a sense of strength and determination.

The allure of Damon's physicality extends to his hairstyle, as his dark brown hair nearly borders on black. It falls just over his ears, adopting a casually disarrayed appearance that hints at his laid-back nature. On certain occasions, however, he takes the effort to style his hair with a gel, showcasing his attention to finer details when needed.

With his striking, intense light blue eyes contrasting wonderfully against his dark eyelashes and eyebrows, Damon's appearance is one that instantly catches the eye. Often sporting a "bad boy" smile, he exudes an air of confidence that is hard to ignore.

Physically, Damon can be described as relatively athletic, tall, and strong. His well-defined muscles give him a powerful presence, making it clear that he takes care of his body. It is safe to say that many find his seductive aura quite irresistible and his attractiveness is further enhanced by his confident and alluring nature.

Considered by himself as the "eternal stud," Damon is quite aware of his magnetism and charm. This self-assured attitude only adds to his appeal, drawing both men and women alike towards his irresistible charm. He has a way of making everyone around him feel captivated and desired.

When it comes to his style, Damon's fashion choices consistently lean towards darker clothing. He often opts for black shirts, t-shirts, and boots, which perfectly complement his brooding and mysterious personality. However, he does occasionally surprise others by incorporating lighter colors into his wardrobe, showcasing his ability to adapt and experiment with different styles.

Rarely seen without his signature attire, Damon's fashion choices reflect his preference for an edgier, more alternative look. From his darkened jeans to his black trousers, his clothing reflects his taste for a slightly rebellious and enigmatic image. This carefully crafted fashion sense only adds to his overall allure and adds an air of mystery to his persona.

Damon has a remarkable fashion sense that is rarely seen without his iconic leather jackets. These jackets seem to be an inseparable part of his wardrobe, reflecting his edgy and rebellious personality. Besides, Damon confesses an affinity for the renowned clothing designer John Varvatos. Whether it's the intricate details or the cutting-edge style, Damon finds himself drawn to the creations by Varvatos, which undoubtedly adds flair to his appearance.

When it comes to special occasions like dances or significant events, Damon knows how to dress to impress. His smart attire often includes elegant tuxedos and polished dress shoes. This attention to detail demonstrates Damon's ability to adapt to different situations and reveals a hidden side that can exude charm and sophistication.

However, being a vampire comes with its own set of challenges, especially when it comes to exposure to sunlight, which can be deadly. To overcome this limitation, Damon possesses a remarkable accessory known as the lapis lazuli daylight ring. This unique ring was enchanted by the talented witch, Emily Bennett, as a means for Damon to safely traverse the daylight realm. With this magical ring, Damon can confidently walk under the sun, shielding himself from its lethal rays.

the group sat in the living room of the Salvatore boarding house, a somber mood hanging over them. Elena relayed the news about Bonnie losing her powers to the others, prompting a collective sigh of concern. Tyler, always the one to have the inside scoop, filled in the details.

"It's crazy, right?" Tyler said, shaking his head. "Clover told me that the elders stripped Bonnie of her powers because she was using them for selfish reasons."

Stefan furrowed his brow, his concern for Bonnie evident. "But she's always used her powers to protect us and help others. Why would she risk it all for personal gain?"

Caroline chimed in, a worried expression on her face. "Maybe she thought she could handle it. I mean, we all know how headstrong Bonnie can be."

Elena sighed, feeling guilty for not being able to help her friend. "We have to find a way to support Bonnie through this. She's always been there for us, it's our turn to be there for her."

The group nodded in agreement, a sense of determination washing over them. They may have lost Bonnie's powers, but they still had each other. And with their support, they knew they could help Bonnie through this difficult time.

Clover and Damon walked into the Salvatore boarding house, the wooden floors creaking beneath their feet. Stefan was sitting on the couch, his brooding gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

"When did Angel get here?" Clover asked, her eyes scanning the room.

"Who's Angel?" Stefan looked up, confusion evident on his face.

Clover chuckled. "Angel is a friend of mine from LA. He runs Angel Investigations, and he knows Buffy and the Scoobies, as well as the Charmed Ones and the Winchesters. He's even crossed paths with God and the literal Devil. Oh, and he's acquainted with the Royal Four, you know, the Roswell heroes."

Stefan raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You sure know a lot of interesting people."

Clover grinned. "Life's been quite the adventure, that's for sure. But enough about me, what's been going on in Mystic Falls?" 

Stefan sat across from Damon in the dimly lit living room , The tension between them was palpable as they both knew what needed to be discussed.

Clover Halliwell, the young witch who had stumbled into their lives, sat quietly on the couch, listening intently.

"Alright Damon, we need to talk about what happened in Mystic Falls," Stefan began, his voice firm but filled with concern.

Damon leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, Mystic Falls. So many memories, so many deaths caused by yours truly," he said nonchalantly.

Stefan's jaw clenched at his brother's callousness. "This isn't a joking matter, Damon. We need to address the past, for Clover's sake and for our own."

Damon's expression softened slightly as he turned to Clover. "Listen, sweetheart, Mystic Falls has a dark history. It's filled with pain and loss, much of it caused by me."

Clover nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity and fear. "I understand. But I need to know the truth, the whole truth."

And so the conversation continued, with Stefan and Damon recounting the horrors of Mystic Falls, the lives lost, and the mistakes made. It was a difficult and emotional discussion, but one that needed to happen.

In the end, Clover had a better understanding of the town's dark past, and the Salvatore brothers had faced their demons once again. Though the conversation had been hard, it had brought them closer together, bound by their shared history and the desire to make amends for the past.

 Clover is a 5'6" tall woman with long, wavy hair that can sometimes be curly, straight, fluffy, or messy. Her hair is naturally dark blonde, but it often looks dark or even dark brown depending on the lighting. Clover loves experimenting with different hairstyles, always on the lookout for something new and interesting.

One of Clover's most striking features is her piercing blue eyes, which seem to hold a sense of mystery and depth. Her slim body type and pale skin complexion give her an ethereal and delicate appearance, adding to her enigmatic charm.

As the peaceful town of Mystic Falls prepared for Easter, the streets were filled with a sense of anticipation and reverence. The church bells rang out in a rhythmic pattern, calling the faithful to gather for the Good Friday service.

Inside the small church, the priest stood at the pulpit, his deep voice resonating through the sanctuary as he read passages from the Bible. The congregation listened attentively, their faces reflecting a mixture of solemnity and devotion.

The sun streamed in through the stained glass windows, casting a warm glow over the wooden pews and ornate altar. The smell of incense lingered in the air, adding to the sense of sanctity that filled the space.

Outside, the town bustled with activity as people hurried to complete their preparations for the holiday. Storefronts were adorned with colorful Easter decorations, and children ran through the streets, their laughter echoing off the brick buildings.

But amidst the hustle and bustle, there was an underlying tension that seemed to hang in the air. Rumors of strange happenings in the nearby woods had been circulating, and some whispered of a dark presence that was stirring beneath the surface of the town.

Clover stood in front of Ric, her heart pounding in her chest as she faced the demon that had taken hold of him. She knew she had to act fast before the demon could harm anyone else.

"I know you're Wiccan," Ric hissed, his eyes filled with malice as he took a step closer to her.

Without hesitation, Clover grabbed the vial of holy water she had stashed in her pocket and threw it at Ric. He let out a blood-curdling scream as the water made contact with his skin, causing him to recoil in pain.

As the demon writhed inside Ric's body, Clover began reciting the exorcism chant she had memorized. The words flowed effortlessly from her lips, filling the room with a sense of power and determination.

Ric's head snapped back, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as the demon struggled to hold on. But Clover was relentless, channeling all of her energy into banishing the evil presence from his body.

And then, in a swirl of black smoke, the demon was gone. Ric fell to the ground, panting and exhausted as he returned to himself, free from the evil that had taken hold of him.

Clover let out a sigh of relief, knowing that she had successfully sent the demon back to hell where it belonged. But she also knew that this was just the beginning of her battles against the darkness that lurked in the shadows. And she was prepared to fight until the very end.

Ric sat at the bar inside Mystic Grill, nursing his drink and trying to make sense of the events of the past few days. He had woken up in his bed after being passed out for what felt like ages, only to discover a strange tattoo on his arm.

Damon slid onto the next barstool, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, what have we here?" he taunted, eyeing the tattoo on Ric's arm.

Ric looked up at him, a mix of confusion and concern written on his face. "I have no idea how it got there," he admitted. "I woke up with it after being unconscious for days."

Damon raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes. "That's an antipossession tattoo," he explained. "It's meant to protect you from supernatural forces, specifically possession by demonic entities."

Ric felt a shiver run down his spine at the revelation. "But why would I need protection from that?" he questioned, trying to wrap his head around the idea of supernatural threats.

Damon leaned closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "You never know what forces are at play in this town," he warned. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

As Ric pondered Damon's words, a sense of unease settled in his stomach. The world he thought he knew had suddenly become a lot more complicated, and he realized that he would have to tread carefully from now on.

Clover sat at the table with Stefan, Caroline, and Elena at the Mystic Grill. The atmosphere was light and cheerful, as they chatted about their days and caught up on each other's lives. Bonnie was off visiting her mother in the next town over, so it was just the four of them enjoying each other's company.

Caroline, Elena, Stefan, and Clover were having a great time at the Mystic Grill. They laughed and joked as they ate and drank, enjoying each other's company. Mrs. Lockwood was busy with the event she was hosting, leaving the group to enjoy their evening.

As they chatted, the conversation flowed easily between them. They talked about their lives, their friends, and their plans for the future. Caroline shared funny stories about her latest antics, earning laughs from the rest of the group. Elena talked about her latest art project, while Stefan and Clover discussed their favorite music.

Despite the hustle and bustle of the restaurant around them, the group was completely engrossed in each other's company. They were happy to be with people who understood and supported them, and who made them laugh until their sides hurt.

As the night went on, the conversation turned to deeper topics. They discussed their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities. They opened up to each other in a way they hadn't before, forming a stronger bond between them.

#damon salvatore #tvd #caroline forbes #explore #original character #stefan salvatore #wattpad #tvd fanfiction #fanfic #ian somerhalder #my edits

[sunnyville36]

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem reader

Series themes: mafia au, arranged marriage, strangers to enemies to lovers, slow burn, featuring members of multiple groups including Stray Kids, BTS, Ateez, Itzy, BTOB

Series warnings: violence, misogyny, heavy swearing, illegal activity, major character injuries, eventual explicit content, *allusions to harmful and abusive family dynamics 18+ minors dni

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: y'all it has been a minute 😅 but I'm excited to be back with the next part and hopefully be writing/posting this more consistently in the near future! as always, let me know what you think! 💕

need to catch up? {series masterlist}

*** Part 4 ***

How hard could it be?

Turns out… pretty fucking hard.

First, there was the sheer amount of watchful eyes on your husband-turned-target.  Tensions were high in the compound after Chan’s capture and the apparent nonchalance of his former top advisors in assuring his safe release, so heavy security was placed on the gang leader around the clock.  Then there was the fact that you’d revealed some of the cards you’d been holding close to your chest before the incident. You were essentially an operative across enemy lines, and, while people hardly paid any attention to you beforehand, after the little stunt you pulled with the old traditions, you felt like there was someone intent on exposing you lurking around every corner.

And finally, there was the small matter of you not actually wanting him dead.  Chan was never supposed to suffer in this.  Sure, he would have had to submit to the Kims once you had him under your control, but he would have been perfectly welcome to go on living his puppet-like life under your direction, something you were relying on the pretense of your marriage to facilitate.  

It wasn’t even that you were particularly fond of the man causing all this trouble.  He seemed fine, certainly far better than your father and older brothers, and honestly almost any other man you could recall meeting in this business. Still, you’d barely had any kind of real relationship.  Your “engagement,” if you could even call it that, was fast and clearly business-driven for both of you (even more than he was aware of for obvious reasons). You didn’t usually exchange more than a few pleasantries, and the fact that you shared the same bed seemed to do very little in the way of igniting intimacy between the two of you, a brief kiss on the cheek or hand on the waist covered the extent to which you’d touched one another. It was a bit sobering that his newfound interest in you after his rescue was the most you'd ever interacted.

You’d been willing to sacrifice your romantic freedom to get you into this strategic position; power was more important than that anyway.  At least, that had been your plan, but now it was your fault he was going to die.  All because you chose the one mafia boss who didn’t have an iron grip on his underlings. 

In fact, you were kind of pissed off about that if you were being honest. You thought that by trusting you with spearheading this mission, your father was finally willing to hand over the reins for one of his major areas of influence to you. But you’d clearly fucked it up, if the way things went the other day was anything to go off of. If only Chan had done what you’d wanted him to do, you could have had the position you’d been fighting your whole life for. 

But maybe your father was right. How could you expect to gain any respect when you couldn’t even pick a proper mark? 

***

You didn’t really put your heart into the first attempt, just paying off a couple of hired guns to run his car off the road on the way to a benefit you knew he was attending. His security dealt with it easily enough, which you knew they would, and it was more of an attempt to buy you some time with your family more than anything. Your father was sure to move up his timetable if he figured out you were having second thoughts. 

On the second attempt, you really did try, insisting on visiting his office with a pair of drinks and going so far as to slip the ricin into his mug yourself on the way to him. But your conscience got the better of you at the last minute, and you switched your tea with his when he wasn’t looking and chucked the tainted liquid into the bushes when you left. 

The following morning, with only 2 days to go until your deadline, you flop dejectedly onto your friend’s bed before screaming into her pillow.

“Fuck!”

“Well, good morning to you too, I guess,” Yeji laughs, walking out of her adjoining bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. You roll over onto your back, an arm covering your eyes while the other reaches for her hand. 

“Why can’t I do it, Yeji?” you ask, eyes peeking out at her from your elbow-blindfold when you feel her hand squeeze yours. Your friend’s normally sharp eyes soften in sympathy as she sits down next to you, letting you rest your head in her lap as you continue. “It’s literally what I’ve been trained to do my entire life, and the first chance I have to prove myself, I chicken out like a little bitch.”

“You don’t mean that,” Yeji replies softly. “I know you don’t mean that and you know you don’t mean that.”

“That’s the problem though,” you insist, pushing yourself up gruffly and shaking your head. “I wish I did mean it. If I don’t do this we’re as good as ruined, and I can’t even get over myself to to-”

Yeji pulls you into a hug as the tears welling up in your eyes threaten to fall, smoothing her hand over your hair. “You always told me you didn’t want to be like them, remember?” You nod, sniffling slightly as she pulls away, grabbing you by the shoulders and looking directly into your eyes, her gaze impressing upon you the seriousness of what she’s about to say. “This is you proving that you aren’t. We said we would figure out how to get out of this life one day. Maybe today is the day we start.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, feeling a smile creep onto your lips. “We’ve only got two days.”

“We’ve done more in less.”

“You think Hyunjin is up for it?”

“I know Hyunjin is up for it.”

Right as she says it, the door slams open and a frazzled looking Hyunjin bursts into the room.

“Speak of the devil.”

“Hyun, we were just-”

The man cuts his sister off, eyes in a panic. “We need to go. Now.”

“Why?” you ask cautiously, both you and Yeji staring at her brother in concern. 

“Just come on,” he says, pulling his sister up and yanking the towel off her hair, “I don’t have time to explain, we just need to get out of here.”

“Wait, stop, Hyunjin calm down, Y/n and I were just talking about how we need to make a total extraction plan and then you come barging in here like-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, raising your hand to quiet Yeji. You hear shouts coming from downstairs and, as you walk closer to the window, you make out what sounds like gunfire in the garden outside. 

You turn back to Hyunjin. “It’s them, isn’t it?” He nods, lips pressed into a grave, straight line. “How did you,” you start to ask, but then you realize. “Seungmin. Seungmin told you?” It’s phrased as a question, but you already know the answer, and Hyunjin’s lowered gaze tells you you’re right. “When?”

“Like five minutes ago. Told me it was an 'early surprise.' I threw some essentials in a bag and came to find you both. We need to move, like, yesterday.”

A single shiver of paralyzing fear runs down your spine, but you shake yourself out of it. You’d made up your mind a long time ago about what you would do in this situation, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“Yeji, I need you to get Jeongin and head to the garage. I’ll get Chan and meet you there. Hyunjin, you’re with me.”

“But we-”

“No arguing,” Yeji admonishes her brother, already finished tying her hair up and unlocking her safe. She throws you both a pistol and tucks her own into the back of her jeans. “We’ll have a car running when you get there.”

You place a hand on her shoulder. “Be safe.” She nods, and takes off down the north stairway while you and Hyunjin head inwards towards Chan’s office where he’s supposed to be meeting with a new client.

“You didn’t tell us you were still in contact with him,” you say pointedly as you check around the bend for any coming intruders.

“I wouldn’t exactly say I was ‘in contact’ with him,” Hyunjin responds, defensiveness clear in his tone. “He contacted me, usually when he was drunk so he could mock me by telling me about all the strippers he let give him head at the club.” 

You wince, knowing that was just the kind of thing Seungmin would do to get at your friend. “Still, you should have said something, Hyun. We could have gotten him to stop.”

“Kind of a good thing we didn’t though.”

You make it to Chan’s office without running into trouble, but the sound of conflict is slowly encroaching on your position. You put your hand holding the gun behind your back, morphing your face into a sweet smile as you open the door. “Chris, I need to talk to you,” you say, entering the office with Hyunjin at your back. 

Your husband looks like he’s about to protest, but with the door now open both he and the other men inside hear the gunfire and glimpse a couple of Chan’s men running towards the sounds. “I believe we’ll have to resume this discussion another time, gentlemen,” Chan says, and the others immediately agree. Hyunjin watches from the doorway as their own security detail escorts them down the hall while you pull Chan aside. 

“What the hell’s going on? Is the compound under attack? Why didn’t anyone call me?”

You wave off his questions. “Don’t have time to explain. Listen, if you had to leave here right now, who would you need with you?”

Chan looks annoyed, but answers quickly. “Jeongin.”

“Just him? No one else?”

“Just him.”

“Good. Get anything you need from in here. We won’t be coming back.” Despite his confusion, Chan seems to be taking you seriously. He grabs his laptop, a hard drive, and a set of keys and meets you at the door. You take his hand and head back in the direction you came from, trying to remember the quickest way to the garage. 

“Okay, is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” 

You put your arm out, blocking Chan and Hyunjin from walking past you. “Remember that car you told me about the other day? It was a hit put out on you by the Kims. Looks like they got tired of outsourcing and are here to take you out themselves.”

“How do you know that?”

“Doesn’t matter. We just need to keep moving.”

“Wait, what about Jeongin?” Chan asks worriedly. 

“Yeji’s getting him. She’ll meet us in the garage,” you answer, pulling him around another corner. 

“If we’re going to the garage we need to go this-” You put your hand up, silencing your partner, and hear Hyunjin, who’s still out of sight behind the wall, suck in a breath. 

You both would know the sound of those shoes anywhere.  

Seungmin walks casually into view at the other end of the hallway, his favorite rifle resting on his shoulder. “Hey Sis… miss me?” You glare back at him, wishing you could wipe the ugly sneer off his face. “I can see whose side you’ve chosen on this one.”

“Hey, you know me, just the problematic child always getting in your way, right?”

Two more men join your brother, guns pointed at you and Chan. “Please, it gives me no pleasure to do this to you,” he says, shrugging while playing up his fake puppy-dog eyes, “but you’ve forced my hand.”

You brace yourself for the impact of the bullets, but before either gunman can get off a shot, Hyunjin jumps in front of you and Chan from behind the wall. “Stop!”

Seungmin’s face loses its veneer of disgust, eyes widening. “No wait!” he yells as you hear a trigger get pulled, pushing the arm of his gunman and ricocheting the bullet above their heads. All three men duck and you take the distraction for all it’s worth, bolting the other direction with your two companions close behind you.  

Chan’s face is incredulous as you drag him down the corridor, Hyunjin covering you from the rear. “Wait, wasn't that Kim Seungmin? Wha- what… why the hell was he calling you ‘sis?’”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer again, finally turning the corner that leads to the garage. Hyunjin runs ahead but Chan stops in his tracks. 

“It fucking does matter.”

“I’ll explain everything later; I promise,” you say, eyes pleading with him as the sound of running approaches. “We just need to get out of here.” Chan’s head whips back and forth between you and the hallway you just came from, eyeing you with suspicion. “Please, trust me,” you beg. Finally, he gives in, grabbing your hand and running the rest of the way.

You reach the garage and see Jeongin in the driver��s seat of a large service van. Scanning the passenger side, you don’t see any sign of Yeji until a desperate wail comes from the open sliding door, a distraught Hyunjin ripping the sleeves of his shirt to wrap around his sister’s waist where a pool of blood is forming. A dreadful pit forms in your stomach as your husband now pulls your shocked form forward and jumps you both into the back of the waiting vehicle. “Drive!” Chan yells, just as a barrage of bullets hit the side of the van. You sit up just enough to see through the window, glimpsing a disappointed Seokjin slowly walking to stand beside your maniacal looking other brother, who’s already barking orders for the men to follow you. But you can’t worry about them now; you have a bigger problem on your hands. 

Hyunjin is screaming at Jeongin as the van peels out of the driveway, demanding to know how Yeji got shot. You’re trying to block out the noise, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly. “You’re gonna be okay, yeah? We’re gonna take you to a hospital.”

“No!” she and Chan yell in unison, the latter’s hand coming to your shoulder to brace his kneeling form. “We can’t take her there; we’ll be too exposed.” You snap your head towards him, about to throw him from the car for suggesting you shouldn’t help your friend, but he continues. “I know a place we can go. We’ll be safe, and there’s a medic there who can patch her up.”

He looks at you expectantly, and you turn to Yeji, letting her nod in agreement for the both of you.

Chan nods back, turning towards the driver's seat. “Jeongin, take us to the Lee’s.”

{check out the fourth character reveal}

{series masterlist}

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fic #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #skz fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz x reader #skz angst #skz smut #mafia bang chan #mafia au #ateez fanfiction #itzy fanfiction #bts fanfiction #btob fanfiction #ateez fanfic #itzy fanfic #bts fanfic #btob fanfic #hmbottwdwm

[undertow-story]

CHAPTER 001

THE GAMBLE

I will admit... I am unconvinced that I am qualified for this job. These numbers are ludicrous even for the upstairs to offer, and whatever this guy has done has clearly gotten someone upstairs Very Angry....

Although, I would also love to stop sleeping in dumpsters and other bins that happen to be nearby... My fur deserves far better than washing up in whatever pond is in the outskirts of town.

Sachiel holds the paper in his grip, scratching at the long tanned fur on his chin.

Hm... and having a proper place to sit and clean my weapons would be ideal... No dirt getting right back into them after cleaning.... Ugh, whatever. I suppose I need to submit an ‘application’ first before I can muse the possibility.

He shuffled his way down the neon and gloomy street. Many shady persons lurked in the alleys and boulevards just beyond the main strip... But the market’s people were far from being the same. These people resided here happily (despite their living situation) and came and went as normal, some as always giving him odd glances. They were all just normal people, forced to live in a dangerous and unregulated place just because they weren’t ‘good’ enough. Sachiel didn’t understand it.

He looked up at the sign for his usual tavern. With a name like ‘The Hovel’ you wouldn’t expect it to be a very good place to dine or frequent. Surprisingly, it was actually quite well kept. Actually, it was the best kept bar in the entire Undertow if you were to ask Sachiel.

They also carried his favorite whiskey.

He slumped in through the door.

The very short, sunglasses bearing barkeep greeted him with the usual, “Hey there Fangs, what’ll it be?”.

Sachiel tossed his remaining coin at them, telling them to get him “The Usual, food included this time... with a request.”

“Request, eh? That’s unlike you bud, what’d’ya need?” They grinned, taking the coin and popping it into a lockbox below.

“Paper... Mhh, specifically one of those applications those thronies need for their hits.” He sat down at the counter, actively avoiding looking around at the other patrons whom he was aware had already started their odd glances.

The bartender gave him a chuckle and slid him a glass of his usual whiskey, an old one, a strong one, something with a hint of orange and smoke. They gave their coworker the food order, while rummaging below. “Oh-hoh, so you saw the notice. I’m surprised at you, Fangs, you don’t usually work for the Upstairs... what’s with the change of heart?”

Sachiel took the paper and started to fill in his information, name, experience, any previous hit with their invoice numbers... listed weapons? He huffed, struggling to talk and fill it in at the same time... His penmanship and focus were lacking.

“Mh, yeah... Look, Cy... I don’t like hunting you folk. Humans that is. I also however don’t like sleeping in empty dumpsters either. A hit like this could secure me a place to live in, finally... as well as replace my broken weapons.”

Cy smiled, it was always nice when Sachiel did refer to them by name and not just reply to what felt like no-one.

“Yeah we all dream of that one huh? I can’t blame you for wanting a place of your own. You've only been here a year and a bit now and still tend to be kicked out of bins. Not exactly the most ideal setup.”

“You’re telling me.” He scribbled, pulling out a set of crumpled and sad papers from his satchel. “I just hope I can A) get the job, and B) pull it off.”

“Ey, don’t worry about it Fangs, you’re a talented dude. Still glad I hired you before to take care of that ‘rat’ problem I had. Who’da thought all you’d need to clear the riff raff was just some cheap intimidation... Though I am glad you keep comin back here, does my business good to see your patronage, buddy.”

Sachiel sipped at his drink. “Do what I can to not be a nuisance.”

He finished up with his paperwork, stuffing his face with as much of the calamari he ordered as he could, then left as he usually did- silently and without much more to add to the room.

-

The application process was fairly simple. The Hunts were generally regulated by the people above, however anything requested from a persons of Undertow were marked with their own symbols next to the request file. All Hunters needed to be documented- and required invoice receipts in order to take on hits from wealthier individuals. As well, they were judged and graded on their hits based off their performance and how much damage they caused to surrounding areas, being docked accordingly.

Application desks were always found at a "Spire". Around the city were 8 Grand Spires. These spires connected the undertow to the guys up above ground. There was one in the middle, Alpha, then 7 around the outer areas of the other sectors. They basically were just support beams to hold the upper city off the ground and into the air.

Spire Gamma was the one closest to the place Sachiel generally lingered. This spire was also one of the most beaten down because it, and Theta, were near what was described as a ‘hot spot’, or an area where there was frequent 'entity' attacks.

Sachiel was wasting no time... He wanted this done and over with.

Dropping his application off and then sitting on a bench nearby, he refused to move along with the others who had also applied. It was easier than having the huntsmen workers come and find you... and he wanted to know sooner than later.

-

It didn’t take long, hits like this usually had a prompt response within 4 hours of the posting. If you missed it then it sucks to be you. A worker called over the loudspeaker, requesting Sachiel to the desk.

Not bad.

“Awrite Mistah Sachiel, lemme see ya ID.” The front desk lady held out a hand, she seemed quite old to be doing a job like this still.

... Mistah? Sachiel is fine... and I thought it was pronounced 'Mister'.

Sachiel handed over his ID. Thankfully these people didn’t care where it came from, just as long as theres a photo of you and a name that matched their signup records.

“Ohkay, Mistah Aethurt will see ya in his office, sweetie, head to the back I’ll open the elevator.” She boredly gestured to the other side of the spire.

...His office? Does that mean..?

Sachiel looked up, his ear once again turning backwards in concern.

I guess I get to know a little more about the upstairs.

Previous | Next

#look you actually get more than the prologue for the first time ever #wrow #002 is in the works again though bc i hate the flow so its getting redone.... but otherwise #yeah expect to actually see things.

[memento-fugaces]

The Wicked Way Exchange

Hi ! The work after the cut is for the Jacques and Quigley prompt. I hope you like it :) @nothing-to-see-here-bye-yall @asouefanworkevent

A taxi of an alarming shade of yellow dashed through street after street in a seemingly nonsensical pattern until it crashed to a halt; out of it and past a row of serpentine hedges, a tall man with an aquiline face and a nervous energy bounded. As he slipped out of the vehicle, he whispered 'May the world be quiet here' and so fled the taxi eagerly. The building before him was somehow different now, confirming the terrible telegram he had received only yesterday, which hear means news of Monty's death. So many friends had perished of late- most of them by fire- but he held fast to the hope it would be worth it if they could finally extinguish the terrible fire that disquieted the world.

Within the house, Quigley was watching all this fearfully: the stranger and his bewildering actions. He had packed to leave and was almost ready before he was interrupted by turbulent sounds outside. It was with care that he threw himself into the cupboard from which he was to observe this unknown figure. Having lost his parents and siblings recently, he had gained a weariness toward those he did not know. So it was that he retreated into his mother's advice on being able to tell the true character of a person by their actions.

Jacques's activity as he burst through the door was frantic and frenzied and as full of fear as Quigley felt but what it did not suggest was a villain. For his part, Jacques knew both that the Baudelaires were not to be found here and that something was off but he had a file to find so got out his commonplace book and began leafing through pages 197-198 in all the books he could find, scrawling down notes as he went. This behaviour was enough to convince Quigley and so he stepped out of the cupboard with mock confidence and the sound of an incomplete tea set crashing, startling Jacques. Instinctively, the stranger reached into his lower left pocket and presented a blurry, unclear picture of three siblings whom Quigley did not recognise. They were at a dock of some sort with a sword dangled dangerously above them and they were not the Quagmires. 'The Baudelaires, have you seen them?' he asked a little too loudly.

Quigley was perplexed by this faintly familiar man and his strange actions. 'No I'm-'

'Quigley Quagmire, the third triplet!' Jacques realised with excitement. 'You're alive!' Something lurked behind his exuberant grin for an instant then flickered out. They conversed quickly, without pause, growing intrigued by the other's life. Both found common ground in having been considered dead by The Daily Punctilio.

'Siblings can be like that; I'm as worried about mine as you are Duncan and Isadora,' he tried to reassure Quigley. He knew how hard it was to be dragged from the world you know and felt he ought to offer Quigley what comfort he could.

Sharp as a stick drawn to a point, Quigley asked, 'How do you know who my siblings are. Who are you anyway?' He was a little defensive after the perilous series of events that had brought him here, feeling alone and wishing desperately that he did not sound so like a scared child.

'I'm sorry,' Jacques replied more to the tone of Quigley's voice than his words. He recognised a fierce courage beneath the temporary yet heavy coats of misfortune, which he found unexpectedly familiar. 'I was a friend of your parents. Actually, I think I've met you once before at a dinner party when you were just a few years old.'

With some strain, Quigley remembered the stranger who was not really a stranger and began to trust the unsteady hand that squeezed his shoulder. They had only met briefly but it was something, which here means enough for Quigley to be able to trust Jacques a little. 'How did you know my parents?'

'We were all once members of the same noble organisation.'

'Can they help me get to my siblings?' Quigley enquired.

'I'm afraid you mustn't go after them. It would be unsafe for you to be seen in public or you might be captured by our enemies.' Unconvincingly, Jacques tried to reassure Quigley what little he could. However, sensing Quigley's unaltered determination he made a promise that as soon as it was possible, they would go together in search of the other Quagmire children.

'Which organisation?' replied Quigley, attempting to gather information as his parents had taught him- he missed them a great deal.

'VFD, though it's not what it once was' Jacques said, gradually trailing off into the recesses of his own mind. 'Not since the schism.' Truthfully, he felt guilty for having told Quigley so much; he had slowly found the organisation less noble than he had believed- he thought it better not to reveal much lest Quigley find himself embroiled in the bitter troubles of VFD.

'What does it stand for?' questioned Quigley who was not certain what Jacques had meant.

'Tell you what, I've got a present for you: it'll help make sense of the world,' said Jacques with undue hopefulness. Research was a powerful thing but it would neither help them make sense of their sadness or what had happened. Regardless, he produced a purple commonplace book as if it were the calm after a storm, though the storm was hardly over.

'Is that a commonplace book?'

'Yes. You can use it to help navigate this murky world. For now, though, you ought to get some rest.'

And so, after a little resistance from Quigley who would much rather be looking for his siblings but was also extremely tired, he slept. Jacques watched over Quigley for a while, face flushed with anguish at another orphan, a victim of the firestarters. Tomorrow he would get to know Quigley.

*

Next morning early, Quigley started awake from a nightmare- the exhaustion gone, his memories of the fire amassed. The roar of shattering glass and the cloudy plumes of smoke and then the wretched silence.

It was bright outside so he must've overslept: he was eager to learn more from this person he had met last night. So it was that he leapt out of bed only to be surprised by the overly loud creak of floorboards that told of an eerie stillness. Hot with panic, he let himself downstairs with his newly gotten commonplace book and decided to make notes as he looked for signs of Jacques. It was oddly calming.

He was sad, alone again after the merest flicker of company. The house felt bare and abandoned as the walls started to swallow Quigley up, which here means left him in desolation once more. In his search, he became even more acquainted with the rooms and in particular the library, expansive and full of obscure volumes but what interested Quigley the most was a book entitled 'Remarkable phenomena of the Mortmain Mountains' that seemed to contain many maps.

At last, he came upon a small postcard sized note, though the paper was thin as papyrus, that attempted an explanation: 'I'm sorry to have had to leave you all alone, was unavoidably detained- VFD business. I promise to be back by half past one at the outside, for brunch.' Beneath it was a signature in a flamboyant hand that stretched up and down, carving out loops in which Quigley could find some precious little comfort. Eventually his attention wandered to a vaguely familiar symbol of an eye that, as he remarked in his commonplace book, seemed to be part of the page itself. Where had he seen it before?

But before he had time to find answers to his questions, Jacques vaulted through the door and towards him with slightly too much friendliness. What drew Quigley's attention, however, was the tattoo on Jacques's left ankle- the eye. Jacques gave a fraternal embrace as Quigley peered over his shoulder and let out a tear. There was a theatrical clock on the wall with green and purple hands, which Quigley soon realised were reptiles, most probably snakes, that informed him it was not quite yet one o'clock. People who arrived early were likely to be noble, his father had taught him, for they have little time for villainous deeds. Still, he decided that he would not mention either the monogram of the eye or the tattoo; he could make his own little research into the matter.

He took to the embrace with a little exertion and they each found a little comfort in the other's company.

Once they had managed to separate themselves, Jacques took his turn to look at the clock. This time, the silver snake hissed in fear as it indicated thirteen minutes to one. He was earlier than even he had expected to be, he realised, but felt guilty anyway for having left Quigley alone at all. He made an apologetic smile, which here means attempted to make amends for having already been unable to be as reliable as he would have liked. The tattoo on his left ankle seared.

'Since I'm back early, shall we spend some time together before brunch?' he asked, almost calling this place home. Was he really so lost in this loud world that he had already grown accustomed to this place?

Quigely nodded in assent as a singular concoction of emotions bubbled over in his heart- anger, fear, love.

'Tell me, have you ever heard of the piece La Forza del Destino?' He had remembered Monty's piano, an extravagant gift from him actually, which would help them pass the time together. The piece was one Quigley would need to know about at some point, perhaps already did, so he thought this might at least be a less painful introduction to it.

In fact, Quigley had: his mother and father had talked incessantly about it for a while. It was impressive with its dramatic, bellowing melody but it hardly seemed anything much special to him. Quigley's medley of emotions, however, had an unexpected effect. 'No,' he lied. 'I should be happy to hear you play it.'

Without another word, they both embarked toward the piano room. They remained silent, though not for lack of questions such as where have you been?, how are you coping with what has happened? and wouldn't it make more sense to just have an early brunch.

The piano was a rich maroon, patterned intricately with swirls and engraved reptiles: on his first day in the herpetologist's house, Quigley had noted this remarkable instrument and was glad once more of its comfortable grandeur. Resolutely, Jacques set himself before the piano and began to play this piece that had once meant only a fictional tragedy which here means was previously not associated with the fires that had torn apart his organisation. The noise swelled, rising and falling rhythmically to a climactic crescendo and Jacques let out a silent tear. How much had been lost? Quigley was reminded of his mother who had often played to him in the evenings before that awful event and he felt a shiver of loss arc across his spine. Once what felt like an eternity had passed, the strokes on the piano reached their conclusion.

'I didn't realise this was a sad occasion,' Quigley said quietly to Jacques, remembering indistinctly something he had been told by his parents. He felt determined to offer some comfort to Jacques.

'The world is quiet here,' Jacques returned. 'That is the reply you should give; it is part of a secret code- one used to identify noble people. But then I suppose your parents taught you that. They were good volunteers.'

'Volunteers?' Quigley asked. What could he possibly mean by using such an odd word. How did this man know his parents so well, he wondered. 'Yes,' Jacques said solemnly then broke off. 'I'm afraid I'm only here on my search for the Baudelaires and as such won't be here all the time. In fact, it's likely VFD will need me elsewhere soon enough.'

Unusually distraught at this, the usually brave Quagmire asked something of Jacques. 'Stay.'

I'm afraid, however, Jacques felt a certain responsibility to the Baudelaire children who were in gravest danger, which he explained solemnly, and he was therefore unable to stay as he wanted. If he had, it is possible he would have lived to grow close to Quigley, though in truth it is likely this would not have kept them safe from other fires. Instead he promised with the kind of lie reserved for those one loves that his absences would not slowly lengthen until he was gone entirely.

Their emotions overpowering, the two departed afterwards to brunch in silence.

At first, the meal was quiet but Quigley was determined to put on a brave face, here meaning hide his sadness much like his companion. Conversation, then, was not hard to come by.

At length did they talk about Quigley's parents, exchanging trivial bittersweet anecdotes until they began to feel time slipping away around them. They painted vivid memories of the happiness that their lives had held before descending into chaos. Within the glorious tales, Quigley noticed something about Jacques's stories- something of his parents that he did not recognise. Although he maintained a smile, he began to feel disoriented by the discovery that his parents had kept secrets from him. Jacques reacted subtly and gradually shifted conversation from their tragic pasts to a future that would never be realised.

Quigley learnt that Jacques had been up all night researching and, against Jacques's protests, offered to help him in this search for the Baudelaires.

Each night, they sat together on the carpeted floor of the library, in the radiant heat of the fireplace for hours on end, poring over countless documents together. This help, it turned out, was vital as Quigley's adeptness with maps allowed them to determine that the Baudelaires had moved on to Paltryville.

#wicked way exchange #vfd #quigley #jacques #fic #aah this was ao fun #and i'm quite a bundle of nerves

[nabnab-official]

my initial thoughts/observations on chapter 3/deep sleep

this is gonna be a long post. and i mean really long. !!SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!

opening thoughts

so, after a long and deserved wait, chapter 3 has finally released. i was very excited, and i wasn't disappointed. this one still follows the formula of gameplay chaper 2 established, but is far longer and far more scary.

as much as i enjoyed chapter 2, it was not scary at all. the only tense moments were during the games, and even then its not scary scary. they failed to build up that atmosphere of dread that a lot of horror games strive to have. chapter 3 delivered. home sweet home in particular, and the red gas hallucination scenes were scary. i still have a quarrel with poppy over their scripted scares, but this chapter was much better about that than chapter 2.

this chapter has a much different, darker vibe than chapter 2, and im glad. i hope they keep going in this direction, and i suspect they will, especially with the morbid story they want to tell with this game.

i was glad we also got to see the majority of the playcare, even if im a bit bummed out that we didn't get to go in the toystore. the playcare itself is a really good environment, it looks cozy but its also so obviously fake, reminding me of those little miniature towns in trainsets. I did not expect it to be inside a dome. my favourite area in the whole chapter had to be the playhouse.

the new hands were also a great addition, and made the puzzles much more fun and varied. changing up the mechanics like that was a great idea to keep people from getting bored of the same puzzle and gameplay every single time.

the school section was fun. miss delight was kept a secret and that was the best choice, because she was a good surprise. the weeping angel chase sequence is great, if a bit complicated. still, its nice to have an actual active threat.

we got a lot of answers in this chapter, including specifics on what the hour of joy was. it seems that the game is being much more open about its dark lore, and im happy about that. im tired of games being theory bait in the sense they make the story next to impossible to figure out to bait theorists. i just want to understand whats going on.

criticisms.

one thing ive always had an issue with about poppy is the scripted scares. in some places its ok, like the huggy tv scene. but i wish there was more of an active, ambient threat. like in the playhouse for example, having to use the flare gun to keep them away. part of the scare is knowing something is out to get you. it helps build up tension and fear.

on that topic, catnap is definitely underutilized, as are the other smiling critters. catnap is good when he shows up, hes got a great design and im really glad they kept him mostly silent. but i wish he showed up more. tying this point to the above one, it would've been cool if he was lurking around in home sweet home. it would be the same way he does in the office towards the end of the game, and you have to fend him off in a similar manner.

the smiling critters in general are underutilized. dogday only appears for a short amount of time, and while his appearance is very good, i wish we got more. we didn't even get to see what the other bigger body critters looked like, or even have them mentioned other than once or twice.

they could have been a sort of resistance group against catnap, or even have been additional threats. picky piggy is a cannibal and craftycorn wants to paint with your blood. something could've been done with that. they couldve even taken the role that ollie filled. though i think ollie is probably important so probably not.

i didnt like the catnap boss fight. i dont know, it just felt weird. i also didn't like the weird nightmare form he transformed into. i much prefer him in his normal state, hes creepy enough as is.

last critique. kissy died. thats it, thats the complaint. look we've done this before in batim when they killed boris. we're gonna have to wait until chapter 4 comes to see if shes alive or not and shes likely gonna be dead in some horrific violent way. this is more of a petty thing than anything but im still sad about it.

deep sleep

so, the ost for the game isn't out yet [once it is i might post about it if i notice anything interesting]

but one thing i did notice is the main [possibly] leitmotif is actually a song from all the way back in chapter 1, titled deep sleep, which likely not a coincidence. i dont know if they had this planned all along, or decided later, but its cool either way.

you can hear it here when you enter the playcare for the first time, and in the menu theme [at the very end before it cuts off]. im unsure when else it plays but it probably does play elsewhere, similar to how the thousand year melody is also a common leitmotif

lots of death [and huggys death]

so, huggy is confirmed dead, by poppys word. im kind of sad about that. i think it wouldve been cool if he had come back, covered in blood and all messed up from his fall, hungry for revenge. at first he just wanted to eat you but now its personal.

but alas we can't always have what we want. PJ is also possibly dead, but im not sure. its confirmed that he doesnt die in chapter 2, as mommy doesn't kill him like she does bunzo and the wuggies. but in chapter 3, it looks like PJ is on catnaps shrine. but until hes confirmed dead im holding out on saying he is. it also seems like huggy is haunting the player, in a way. he appears in their nightmare hallucination, and then again as a cutout later almost tauntingly.

poppy is right, we have killed a LOT of people. we killed huggy, mommy, miss delight, and helped kill catnap. we indirectly caused bunzo and the wuggies to die [mommy killed them, but if we hadn't won the game she would not have done that, so we are involved regardless]. and now, we have to kill the prototype. i did not expect this much death in this chapter, but i enjoyed it.

catnap

out of all the main antagonists, catnap is by far my favorite. in the long wait leading up to chapter 3, the anticipation to his reveal was a lot of fun. theorizing with other fans, making fan interpretations of what he would look like. originally i thought he would be a bat

his actual design is fantastic. i didnt expect him to be so skinny, but it really works in his favor. him being on all fours also sets him apart from the other antagonists. i wont go into detail about his design here

his actual character is really good and is what makes him my favorite. those who followed the arg that led up to chapter 3 know catnaps full story, about how the prototype saved his life. im not gonna talk about that here because im gonna talk about that and his death in a different post. but catnaps religious devotion to the prototype makes him really interesting. hes so obsessed with him he builds shrines, and is even willing to kill all the other smiling critters for being heretics the choice to keep him mostly silent also really elevates his character. i think it wouldve been much different were he talkative like mommy long legs.

i do think he was underutilized though, especially with how much he was teased

prototype

i was kind of hoping to see at least a little bit more of the prototype's body, but we got a voice reveal so thats good enough. the prototype is a very interesting character, and im really excited to see what he looks like in the future. he must be huge, if he took catnaps body to presumably use on himself. the prototype interests me, because im trying to figure out what his deal is. poppy seems to think hes pure evil, but we never actually see him being evil. the only truly evil thing we know he has done is enact the hour of joy. does he kill other toys all the time? what else does he do thats so evil? we dont really know yet i guess he saved theodores life and sacrificed his freedom for it. right now he is morally grey. he also killed catnap, but im not sure why he did that. was it a mercy kill? did he simply not tolerate that failure? its hard to tell with a silent scene.

either way, the prototype intrigues me. some people think he is elliot ludwig, but i dont think so. i think he will just be nobody in particular, ideally. hes good enough on his own as a character

elliot ludwig and ollie

during the hallucination sequence in the home sweet home, its said that they found the body of a young boy in an upstairs room in elliot ludwig's house, a body which was missing organs and bones. this was after ludwig had died, and playtime co seems to want to fight the allegations. so either ludwig killed that kid or someone was framing him. either way, its not looking good for him. its been speculated for a long time whether or not elliot ludwig knew about the sinister happenings at playtime co, or if it happened after his death and leith pierre took over. this might be our answer. now whos body was that? so, i have a weird hypothesis. its said in his backstory that elliot had someone die in his family, which caused him and his wife to split. people first speculated this was his daughter, who became poppy. i think maybe, with this revelation, it was a son. and maybe, like the poppy theory, that son became something else. maybe hes ollie. maybe hes the prototype. who knows. it would explain why the body was there, and parts were missing. maybe those parts were used to make a bigger body. it has a lot of holes, but thats why its a hypothesis

on the topic of ollie, who are they? i definitely think they're a toy, possibly a bigger body, which is why they're hiding their appearance from us. theres also no way its been 10 years and theres still kids here. they either would have died or grown up by now. i dont completely trust them, or poppy for that matter. people have theorized ollie might be the prototype, since the prototype can change his voice to sound like a variety of things. heres my crack theory, which i know is not true but it would be funny: ollie is boxy boo. listen. ok. the phone is first seen in project playtime, which is boxy boo's debut game, and reveals all his lore, like how he was the first bigger body created. the phone also resembles him in appearance. obviously this probably isnt true but its funny to consider.

speaking of him, im really glad boxy boo was in this chapter. i hope he appears physically in the next one, because i like him a lot. make fun of the name all you want but hes my special guy.

kissy and poppy

kissy is my favorite character so im very glad she was here. though i wish she was there a bit more, beggars cant be choosers. im also glad poppy got more spotlight. when she first appeared in chapter 2, she just felt like circus baby 2.0. but chapter 3 expands on her character a lot more and makes her feel more unique and alive, and like an actual character. which im glad for because shes the namesake of the game and is obviously very important she hates the prototype because he locked her in that case, and killed all those people. but obviously she cant kill him herself, shes so small. so we have to do it. ill be honest, i still dont completely trust her. like the prototype doesnt seem THAT evil to me. we havent seen him do a lot of things. imagine if theres a huge plottwist at the end where poppy is actually evil and the prototype is good. no way thats gonna happen but whatever.

the players identity

before chapter 3 released i thought the player was maybe a past orphan who worked at the factory later in life only to return years later to end things. people theorize that they're the head of innovation. now it just seems to make sense that they're rich. i mean why would we be constantly hearing about this guy who seemingly is just another employee. the player also seems to have done bad things, or at least known about them, because the game constantly references their guilty conscience.

chapter 4

its quite possible chapter 4 will be the last chapter. poppy said that catnap was the final obstacle the prototype had set out before us. and now we have the clear goal of killing the prototype.

in the next chapter, we will probably go down to the labs mentioned time and time again, and uncover the final secrets. as we go deeper down and progress through each chapter, things become more grim and dark. this will probably be the darkest chapter yet. if we go down to the lab, with the goal to finally kill the prototype, we are going to be in his domain, his kingdom. we will probably see new monsters, maybe even scrapped toys like daisy.

anyways i will make smaller posts for other stuff like catnaps death, and other things i find deserve their own posts. thanks for reading if you have made it this far

[tresca]

Ngk

Stealing Crowley’s inarticulate consonants here to convey how ill equipped I feel to actually post anything. But I find myself completely overwhelmed at stumbling into the joyous and abundant good omens fandom. I’m no stranger to fandom but its been ages and ages since I attempted to be an active participant of any kind (big fan of lurking, me). My past fandoms have mostly been me going along the ride as things get rolling, building up, etc, slowly friending people, reading, finding forums, etc.

With GO though - I’ve always been a fan of the novel, enjoyed season 1 immensely, but never really went looking for the fandom. Was happy to enjoy it as a stand alone and await the next season and pick up my novel every now and then for a reread. (And get back to making my slow progress through more and more of discworld). I came back to S2 late, was caught up in other shows when it premiered and then I finally watched it in October/Nov and I was promptly bowled over with the tidal wave. That ending meant I couldn’t help myself, had to go find fics and discourse and art and anything to tide me over (particularly since S3 hadn’t yet been announced!). And I haven’t stopped since. I have felt like Aziraphale getting my first taste of the ox ribs and now I am voracious and I can’t seem to get enough. I thought it would be enough for me to just lurk and lurk and lurk, reading and following and liking and consuming. There’s just so many wonderful things to see and read amongst the fandom - yall are a bloody wonder. AND I’ve watched all of Staged multiple times now, listened to Radio Omens, am finally making my way (slowly) through Doctor Who (new, not classic) - a show countless people have always told me I need to watch, and on and on and I find myself wanting to be more a part of things this time, but not really sure how to jump into to a fandom months Too Late (I live in Another Place I guess). and oh god, don’t even get me started on how devastated I am to have missed the graphic novel kickstarter by being Too Late… and how are DT and MS in SO many things, and how do i even break into discord groups? and how did I not know how active NG is on tumblr, I mean, I hadnt even logged into tumblr in maybe a decade and its all so different yet so the same…

Er, ahem I got away from myself there. Not even sure anyone is actually reading this..

All this to say that If you happen to have stumbled here since I have been madly following and liking for the past few weeks. Hello! I’m gonna try to lurk less. You are all wonderful. Please dont mind the inarticulate tresca in the corner here. *meep*

#good omens #fandom #ngk #i miss livejournal #ramblings #hi

[suenitos]

its rlly interesting hearing everyones canon events for what got them here the diversity in peoples reactions to dream or dnf or dteam and parasocialism etc is actually breathtaking. anyway here's mine (with most of the journey as a bonus) that no one asked for. WARNING IT'S LONG:

i was more of a slow burn in that i first became aware of who the hell dream (i think george too?) was during summer 2020 when the maia thing was happening (i think it was trending or something and EVERYONE knew her from prom dress so i was like hey i know her!), though i dont remember all of the details i just remember thinking "ok!" then closing the twitter app. didn't pay it any mind.

later i started to get dteam content on my tiktok fyp from compilations and thought why the hell not and started to watch them on youtube. i found the mc tag video and was HOOKED with the solo dnf challenge videos. fell out of it for a while because online school then came back officially on november 16 when unus annus ended and lmanberg exploded and i needed something else to obsess over to cope with isolation. i dont quite remember when quackity came into the equation but he was THE reason i got into cdnf (and lore too i guess) because he gave us the only pov of the dethronement and that was the first lore stream i watched live. i remember recognizing him from the raids and discords got talent videos and got more into him and dteam at the same time especially as 5/5 became a thing (so you can see why i was hurt really bad when april happened lol)

another part of it was heat waves.. i was pretty opposed to it at first because after dan howell's coming out i thought rpf was inherently invasive to content creators. and to be fair there was a lot of freaknasty shit written about phan that made them uncomfortable! but since i have no morals i caved and read it anyway under the justification that everyone kept saying this is really good characterization and writing so why not! (up until chapter 3 was released at this time) i finally decided to register for an ao3 account along with thousands of other people (before the waiting list got really long lol) and read it and well. here we are

the parasocial drontroversy was happening around this time too and i sort of talked about it but that indirectly caused me to lurk for the entirety of 2021 mostly on tiktok and twitter and twitch (i knowwww. it was pretty bad). part of that too was because of the drontoversies so i avoided engaging directly until i knew for sure that dream wasn't the evilest man ever. i was really cautious about him because i had this assumption of his character (white cis het (lol) man raised republican) but after seeing his growth and learning a bit about him i grew out of my initial timidity and embraced the stan label (in secret). i was also a big youtube viewer too i loved the animations people made and still do! a xanyleaves manhunt animation also convinced me to watch manhunt and dteam (any object show fans here lol?) i got sick of doing that and not dumping everything in my brain somewhere my irls wouldn't see so i lurked here for a while and officially joined in january 2022. it was pretty fun! but then after a while you could tell the wheels were falling off the wagon!

i left for probably a month following the drituation drop (still lurking for updates etc) but then decided to come back with a different account because 1. i decided for myself that it was ultimately a nothing burger after seeking out evidence when i was ready 2. i was sick of using that blog as a sideblog and this is all i blog about anyway 3. i was lonely :( i missed the few mutuals i had and seeing life on the dash. i also just wanted to help build something healthier from before. i think the christmas streams were the first time i felt READY and sure to actively come back and my time here here has been really wonderful for the most part. this is MY toxic radioactive echo chamber dumpster and i love being a bacteria living in it.

#tldr; slow burn. timid pet that doesnt trust people gets exposure therapy over time. i was always gonna end up here anyway no matter the #avenue i took LOL #only read if youre curious about my convoluted lore haha

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Hey.

So, it’s been a while. I have a lot less energy than I used to and I’ve found that being online is extremely bad for my already struggling brain. I’ve really struggled to keep up any connections I used to have, even though I wanted to and I felt extremely guilty for struggling so much with just talking to people. I feel like I’ve become a completely different person in the past few years. I guess I kind of outgrew Tumblr and I felt like I was a fraud when I couldn’t reach the same levels of energy and enthusiasm to behave like I used to and I felt like I didn’t belong here any more and that I was a disappointment, but I still think about all of my friends on here a lot and I’m really sorry I faded out without any explanation, it was never a deliberate choice, time just did time things and all of a sudden it’s been years and I felt too guilty and ashamed to come back, like I was being kept prisoner by my own skull raisin. I still think about you all and I hope you’re living the wonderful happy lives you all deserve and that the world is being so, so kind and gentle to you. I hope you find new happiness and love every single day. I still love all of you with my whole heart and soul and I’m really, genuinely sorry for leaving like I did, I hope none of you were worried and I hope you didn’t miss me.

A life update is that I’m doing okay, even good. My partner Josh and I are still going strong, we’re planning on getting married in the next few years, and I’ve been flying over to see them regularly (I’ll never stop being grateful that I have this opportunity.) Their apartment is yellow and we adopted a very big plush Bulbasaur son together and we cuddle until we fall asleep every night and their smile and their mind make me reach a level of happiness I genuinely did not think I was capable of and they have helped me find who I really am. Loving them is the easiest and sweetest thing I’ve ever done. I’m planning on moving overseas to be with them after we’re married (paperwork + residency reasons.) Their friends have welcomed me incredibly kindly into their group and their city is a world I want to live in and I feel like I finally know where I belong. I have finally, finally found my home.

Other updates. My pets are getting older and we lost Maudie, I still miss her and I’m scared for the others but I can’t do anything but love them. With my partner’s help I realized that I’m most likely autistic and I’m hoping to get officially diagnosed once I’ve moved, but not before, because a diagnosis could get my residency denied. I have a steady job with very nice coworkers/friends and in general I’m a lot less scared of life and I’m actually excited for the future, even though I still have very hard days, weeks, months. I have a lot more confidence and love in myself. I own a shirt with rubber duckies on it and I adore it with my whole heart. I have two tattoos named Frank and Louisa and I’m hoping to get more soon. I make very good soup. I’ve learnt to draw, I still have a long way to go but it makes me happy and it’s therapeutic and also how does lighting and shading work oh my gOD-

If anyone wants to reach me at any time, for any reason, my Discord is awshucksalright#7140. It’s one of the few sites that I don’t have a mental block with so I’m usually active on there, but I am a different person now so I understand if you don’t have a drive to, there’s no expectation. I just wanted to make a post to give closure if it was needed because just dipping like I did was super shitty and I wish I could take it back but at this point it feels too late and I don’t know if I have the energy to come back again any way. I have been lurking like a weirdo on your blogs to make sure you’re okay, I should’ve just reached out, I don’t know why I didn’t other than my brain not letting me, it felt like a wall and it still does. It was nothing any of you did, it’s just my own brain being a dick and I hate it and I wish I could change it. I don’t want any of you to think that you weren’t/aren’t important to me because you always have been and always will be. Your kindness and friendship has meant the world to me.

I don’t want to say goodbye so I’m not going to, I don’t want to close that door because I love so many of the people through it. I just hope you’re all okay and that life is treating you with all the amazing-ness that you all deserve. I hope you all feel warmly and gently hugged.

I love you. 💖💖💖🐰🐰🐰💕💕💕

#Matt speaks #I'm so sorry

[falseapostle]

Haruto drew in a deep breath as he started clicking through options and setting things up. It was a brand new computer, a laptop so that he could carry it around with him when he went out places like the cafe. He had been a little opposed to getting a new one, since the internet hadn't really interested him the last time he'd browsed it. Internet forums seemed to be hotbeds of headache-inducing arguments and pretentious know-it-alls trying to throw their weight around on topics that hardly even mattered.

But this had been the suggestion made to him (even if it seemed a bit like a joke), and he was willing to make the attempt. As long as he mostly kept his head down and lurked more than he was active then it would probably be fine, right? It was being active on social media, the suggestion granted to him. When he had made a sideways comment to a member of his congregation at the end of a service when everyone was going home. General talking among his members had led to the conversation about how he was trying to find new outlets of interest for himself and the man had spoken of being online most of the time. And then his children had started harping on and on about it. They'd seemed excited for him to go online and make a name for himself, and he was sure they were making fun of him for being an old man. Not that that really mattered.

But he was here now, with everything finally complete and his looking around the larger few social media sites that were available. He had no interest in running a blog and short-form sites really weren't his cup of tea. But he was likely going to have to keep an account on at least one of these no matter where he eventually found his home because socialization happened through these mediums most, it seemed, even if formal discussion did not always. It was a frustrating revelation, but it was one he was going to have to accept.

So he made up a few different accounts and got himself well settled in before ending his journey at an old school forum website concerning book discussion. If there was nothing else he could do, talking about the books that he read on a regular basis was at least one. And from there perhaps he could make actual friends. Join something of a community, even if it wasn't the kind he was used to. A place to be himself without fear or worry about what he really was.

He wasn't sure yet that he could fit in to such a place, but he at least had hope for it. It was the first time he'd felt anything like it in thousands of years.

#✥ whispers from the higher plane ✥ ➺ ooc #drabble #✥ purebreds are the superior angels ✥ ➺ repentance verse #//haruto's method of working on himself #//and developing his own sense of self #//is going to be through an online setting #//that's about all this is about

[dirtytransmasc]

hey @yui-kuromori I have more brain worms for you Billy and Mike sibling AU, cause apparently I feel like being mean. Your welcome in advance, I know this is gonna just add onto whats been stewing in your brain. /lh

TW: child abuse 

~~~

Ted Wheeler is a dead beat, everyone knew that, even if they didn’t say it. Everyone knew he was an unloving husband, an absent father, a hermit and a shut in. He worked a basic 9 to 5 office job, didn’t have any friends or hobbies outside of it. He didn’t take his wife out for dinner dates or partake in his childrens after school activities. No one was nominating him for ‘Dad Of The Year’ awards anytime soon, but no one thought he was a bad dad. 

But Ted had a habit, a nasty one. When he would absent mindedly smack one of his kids upside the head for whatever reason he might be inclined to actual pay them any attention, he hit too hard. When he would grab Mike by the scruff of the neck, every once in a blue moon, his fingers would leave bruises. Whenever he picked them up or pushed them around when their mother finally yelled at him enough to get him to actually step in, it hurt, it hurt so much more then it should. 

But it was how infrequently it happened that really got to Mike. It wasn’t like a flow, a routine, anything Mike could get used to, anything he could avoid. Just every once and a while, his father would get wound up enough and suddenly all he would feel was pain, the air would leave his lungs, he’d feel his muscles go tense and nerves set on fire. Maybe he smacked him, maybe he was pinned up against a wall, maybe he was being forced to look at his disappointment of a father by the hand in his hair. But Ted Wheeler would no doubt be hurting him. 

It was never enough that he thought to tell anyone, never enough for anyone to notice, not even his own mom. He knew all kids got a little roughed up by their parents, but this felt wrong, this felt like too much. It made him angry; why did his father get to ignore his existence unless he was hurting him? 

No one saw what ted did to his children, no one knew that Ted was not just a shitty father, but an abusive one. Ted wasn’t what you’d expect to see when you think of a monster who hurts his kids. Not even his own kids saw a monster when they looked at him. But lurking in the shell of a man Ted existed as, lurked something dark and cruel. 

~~~

2 things. Firstly, the ideas of what is and isn’t abuse/neglect aren’t my own, but more reflective of the times. Secondly, this is slightly canon divergent, as there is no evidence that Ted is at all physically abusive; that being said, I have had and seen many abusers like Ted, the abuse isn’t constant nor frequent, but its still abuse. He strikes me as the father with a long (thanks to his neglectful nature) but explosive fuse; when he loses his temper, he’s good at hiding it, may not even really notice, but he’s hurting his kids none the less. Personally I would rather a more ‘textbook’ abuser over this, because its the infrequency that fuels a feeling of not ever being safe, always waiting, always expecting it. That or it catches you off guard every time. Either way its more mentally damaging then physically damaging.

#Mike wheeler #ted wheeler #stranger things #cw abuse