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aquamarinescarlet · 3 years

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Great, my girlfriend is a toddler

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~4.5k

Warnings: one curse word (I think), mentions of past trauma (nothing graphic), and a lot of fluff

Summary: Reader is caught in a trap during a mission and ends up trapping herself in her five year old mind and body.

Author’s note: I know I basically just post incorrect quotes, but this idea came to me and I just had to write it. I won’t stop with the incorrects btw, and if you guys prefer I create a different blog to post these little stories just let me know. Without further ado, enjoy, and let me know what you think (this is my first time writing something like this too, so tips/remarks are always welcome).

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the marvel characters.

(Picture is not mine, got it on pinterest)

“West wing clear”

“Basement clear”

“Guys I need some help here.”

You heard through comms as your teammates infiltrated the Hydra base.

It was a fairly simple mission, small base, so not that many enemies to fight off.

As you made your way down an empty corridor to the control room you could listen to Bucky's grunts, and punches, on your earpiece as Sam and Steve made their way to him.

The silence and emptiness was rather suspicious, but you made nothing off of it, thankful you would get in easily.

“I’m in the control room.” You spoke when you found yourself surrounded by computers and all sorts of technology. It seemed quite ancient for an organization that has been a pain in your asses for the past months.

Hacking wasn’t your specialty, but you sure were better at it then the other three, hence you getting the task. Your eyes scanned the room, trained on identifying threats. Surprised by the emptiness of it all, you focused on finding the main system.

You plugged the pen drive Stark had prepared and started typing, your eyes occasionally leaving the screen to take a quick glance around the room, an uneasy feeling growing at the pit of your stomach.

“Y/L/N, we’re all clear here,” Steve’s voice rang on your ear, “how are you doing there.”

“I’m nearly done,” you stared at the computer as the information was downloaded to the little gadget, “I don’t know guys, something here feels wrong, it’s too empty, too quiet.”

No response.

“Guys? Can you hear me?” Your heart rate picked up, something was definitely wrong.

In a second the download was complete, and you hastily snatched the pen drive, going for the door. Your desperation grew when you stated it was locked.

“Can anyone listen? I’m locked.” You spoke to the earpiece. “The doors locked automatically. I need help getting out.”

The door was sealed shut, not even a small slit in between it and the floor, your powers wouldn’t help you on this one. You tried to bring your heart rate down as your eyes scoured the room once again for a way out. No air vents, no windows, there was another door on the other end of the room, and you promptly made your way to it, only to confirm it was also locked shut.

Your attention was brought back to the first door, loud banging and a faint voice coming from the other side. Thankfully the boys noticed there was a problem and came to your aid. As you ran across the room, your head started to get fuzzy, your vision was not as clear as it had been seconds ago, and breathing was starting to get harder.

Before you even reached the still shut door, your body collapsed on the floor, everything going black.

You stirred in bed, shifting to a more comfortable position. Some light seeped through your eyelids, but you were tired, dragging the sleep as long as possible.

Your peace was broken by a door suddenly opening.

“What the hell happened?” A woman’s voice filled the room. She sounded angry, and upset, the hostility in her tone made you clutch the blanket harder.

“Wanda calm-” A man spoke, but was cut off by the woman.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? Don’t you tell me to calm down, Stark, when I got back from a mission fifteen minutes ago only to learn that my girlfriend turned herself into a five year old toddler.” She was loud and it just made you even more scared of being in trouble.

A small whimper escaped your throat getting both people's attention. You opened your eyes only to be met by several stares, there were easily five or six people in that room, but you didn’t have time to count as you pulled the blanket over your head, bringing your knees closer to your chest.

Your body was trembling with fear from what you knew would come next. You hadn’t done anything, you had been a good girl, done your chores, never speaking unless spoken to, but for some reason the people from the orphanage took a particular liking in punishing you even when you hadn’t done anything bad.

You waited for it to come, but instead of the ill-disposed voice and harsh hands, you were met with a soft “hey” and a delicate hand. Nonetheless it was still frightened, making your whole body tense.

“I’m sowy, I didn’t do anyfing, pwease don’t huwt me, I’ve been good.” You cried out, tears threatening to fall.

The hand started to caress your arm soothingly.

“Hey Y/N, you’re okay, we’re not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe here.” Your muscles relaxed slightly at the words, thick with an accent, and touch. Your mind was still on alert but for some reason your body responded to this woman in a way your mind didn’t understand.

“Seems like she lost her memories too, she still thinks she is in that horrible place.” A new voice spoke up.

“Hey Y/N,” the woman spoke close to you, low as not to frighten you further, “you’re not in the orphanage anymore okay? You are somewhere safe. Those people can’t get to you here.”

You peeked over the blanket and was met with mesmerizing green eyes, they seemed so kind and comforting putting you at ease.

“Pwomise?”

“I promise. No one’s going to hurt you. We will protect you.” She offered you a smile that made your lips want to curl into one too, despite your wariness of the woman still being a stranger.

You pulled the blanket back above your head, muttering a quiet “okay”. Your heart rate then picked up it’s pace once you noticed you would be punished for forgetting your manners, your mind still not fully understanding you were no longer in a dangerous place.

You yanked the blanket just below your chin, uncovering your whole face so you were facing the woman.

“Fank you, miss.” You spoke quickly and hid again.

She chuckled slightly and you couldn’t help but feel fuzzy.

“How about you stop hiding that pretty face of yours huh?” The words caused a smile to unconsciously tug at your lips, as you pulled the blanket down and started to sit up. “See, much better, right?”

You stared at the figure in front of you with what could only be described as adoration. She was just so kind and beautiful you couldn’t seem to stop smiling. A slight movement behind her brought you out of your daze and you landed your gaze on the several people watching the interaction, people you had seemingly forgotten were still in the room.

Your eyes went wide and a gasp left your lips before you laid back down, covering your curled up body with the blanket again. The woman noticed what had frightened you and brought her hand back to caress your back.

“Hey, it’s okay, they’re only here to protect you too. They are just worried about you.” You didn’t move, this was too many new people and having all their eyes on you was making you nervous. “Do you want me to ask them to leave?” She whispered closer to your ear and you nodded excessively.

Sounds of chairs moving, footsteps and a door closing were heard before the room fell back to silence.

“We’re alone now.”

You peeked carefully outside the blanket to be sure you were alone. When you found the rest of the room empty, you moved to sit back up. Suddenly the idea of being alone with this woman made you very shy, your eyes watching as you wiggled your toes.

“Fank you, miss.”

“Wanda”

“Wanda” You whispered, not taking your eyes off of your feet.

After a few moments of silence a question popped into your head.

“Why did you save me?” You tried to speak but the sound wasn’t higher than a whisper.

“What?”

“”Why did you save me.” You said louder. “The Sisters said that I was- I was a bad giwl, and that is why my pawents didn’t want me, and no one would want because I was bad and-”

“Okay, stop,” she cut off your rambling and you finally met her gaze, “all those things they said about you are not true, okay? Don’t believe any of that.”

“How do you know it is not twue.” Sadness seeping on your voice. “You don’t even know me.”

“Quite on the contrary, I happen to know you very well. I know you get grumpy when you wake up. I know you don’t like to wear dresses. I know you like to laugh and make lots of funny jokes. I know your favourite colour, favorite food, favourite animal, favourite movie… but most importantly,” she brought her hands to rest on your sides, “I know you are very ticklish.”

At that she started to tickle you mercilessly causing you to fall back on the bed, a string of laughs and giggles escaping your mouth. She stopped after a few seconds and you took the opportunity to catch your breath.

“See. I know many things about you.”

“Yeah.” You said amidst giggles.

“And I know that none of those things the Sisters said about you are true.”

“Fank you, miss Wanda.” She let out a laugh.

“You are too cute,” she pinched your cheeks causing you to feel shy all of a sudden, “just call me Wanda.”

Your gaze fell down to the mattress again.

“Okay, fank you, Wanda.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re welcome.” She brought her hand up to smooth your hair. “Do you want anything sweetie?” That little nickname just made you even more flustered, even though you couldn’t hide the smile that formed at your lips.

You pondered her question for a second, you were hungry, but you knew better than to ask for food outside of mealtimes, the memories of the punishments still fresh. After a few moments you shook your head.

“Are you sure?” She pushed. “Don’t you want to eat something?” It was almost as if she could read your mind. “You can tell me, it’s okay, no one will hurt you for being hungry. And we can fix up something for us to eat.” She must have noticed your hesitation. “Y’know, I’m a little bit hungry too.” She whispered close to your ear, her breath tickling your ear causing you to chuckle.

Your mind knew this was a bad idea, that you would get punished after, but Wanda was just so convincing you ended up nodding weakly.

“There you go.” She cheered.

She picked you up from the bed, but before she could lower you to the floor your arms circled her neck and your legs, her waist. You couldn’t help it, you just wanted to be close to her. She giggled at your actions, but didn’t fight it, carrying you out of the room and into a big corridor.

When the sound of muffled voices started to grow louder, your posture became tense. Wanda took notice, rubbing circles on your back.

“Hey, it’s alright, they are nice, you’ll see.” She tried to calm you down.

Your posture relaxed, but you weren’t sure if it was because of her words or just her general presence.

“Whewe awe we going?”

“To the kitchen.”

“And the people in the kitchen? Will they huwt me?”

“No honey, of course not, they care so much about you, they are here to protect you too.”

As she made her way into the kitchen, you hid your face in the crook of her neck, trying to ignore how the room went quiet with your presence.

“How is she?” A male voice asked, you recognized it from moments earlier.

“She’s okay, a little scared, seems like she did also lose all her memories, everything she knows is from when she was five.”

Wanda moved around and kept up with the conversation, to which you stopped paying attention when your eyes fell onto a thing a man was eating. You had tried one of those before, once, when an old woman donated a basket of those to the orphanage and you managed to steal a small piece, it was delicious, tasted like heaven compared to all the tasteless food they gave you in that place.

Wanda settled on a chair and you kept your head hidden, but your eyes were locked on the man.

You thought you heard Wanda calling you, but your attention was entirely on that piece of food. The man seemed to take notice when he met your gaze and gave you a smirk. The eye contact would’ve made you shy away, but Wanda’s presence made you feel safe, so you held it.

“I think I know what she wants.” He spoke to Wanda. “Would you like a muffin Y/N?” He directed at you. You lifted your head from Wanda’s shoulder and, after a moment of hesitation, you nodded slowly.

He opened a cabinet and picked one up, handing it to you, offering a beaming smile. You stared at it for a second, not expecting him to give you a whole one. Your eyes darted from him to Wanda, looking for some sort of confirmation.

“It’s okay, take it.” She smiled at you encouragingly.

You slowly stretched your hand and grabbed the item.

“Fank you, siw.” You practically whispered.

“You can call me Sam.”

“Fank you, Mw. Sam.”

“Huh, Mr Sam, I can get used to that.” He joked. Or at least you thought he did, since now you were just blankly staring at the muffin, not really sure if you should really eat it, despite your stomach screaming for you to do so.

“Just call him Sam,” Wanda spoke to you, “and we can’t let her keep calling us that, Sam, she does it out of fear for disrespecting us.”

“Is that why she also hesitated from taking the muffin?” A new voice questioned.

“I don’t know Stark, maybe…” Wanda trailed off and you decided to help, since they were talking about you anyways.

“Fhey did not let us- let us eat out of meal time and-,” you took a breath trying to calm your nerves, “and thewe wewe too many kids so- so thewe was nevew enough food and- and,” your eyes went wide when you noticed everyone was staring at you intently and a whimper left your lips unconsciously before you shoved your face back into Wanda’s neck.

She rubbed your back in an attempt to calm you down and, surprisingly enough, it did. Something about her just made you so calm.

“You don’t have to worry about this here,” a man with glasses said, “we have plenty of food and no rules, you can have whatever you want whenever you want, just tell any of us and we’ll get it for you, deal?” You smiled at how nice they were being with you.

“Deal, siw.” You nodded.

“And call me Tony, please.” You nodded again.

“See, it’s fine, you're safe here.” Wanda reassured, giving you a kiss on your temple. The action caused a silly smile to grow on your lips and your cheeks to heat up, as you leaned into her chest.

“Oh, come on, seriously?” A man with the same accent as Wanda blurted. “She has known you for, what? 20 minutes? And she already has a crush on you.” His comment made laughter erupt around the kitchen, and, even though you didn’t understand what was so funny, you enjoyed the moment. Laughter was not common in the orphanage.

Throughout the rest of the day you started to feel more comfortable around everyone.

Wanda never left your side, or, you were the one who never left her side. Spending the rest of the evening watching movies on the most amazing TV room you had ever stepped foot on.

Other people would join you from time to time. Pietro, who you learned was Wanda’s brother; Natasha, or Nat as she preferred; Bucky; Sam; and Steve.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when it was that you fell asleep. You just knew you were now in a room you had never seen before, it was pretty, but unfamiliar. You saw a stuffed animal left on the edge of the bed and clutched onto it, trying to get the images from the nightmare you just had out of your mind.

Several minutes passed and you were just too scared to even close your eyes. Sleeping alone was something you never did, the rooms in the orphanage were filled to the brim with precarious beds or improvised mattresses due to the excessive amount of kids there.

Deciding that you wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, you climbed out of bed and made your way out of that room. Your feet automatically took you to another door down a big hall. You knocked softly, but got no response.

After three more tries, you turned the door knob and it opened. You put your head inside the room and detected a figure laying in a bed.

“Wanda,” you whisper shouted, trying to catch the woman’s attention, “Wandaaa.”

She stirred and lifted her head to look at you, her eyes were sleepy, but she managed to give you a tired smile.

“Hey Y/N, is something wrong? Do you need anything?”

“Can I- can I sleep with you?” Your gaze fell to the floor.

“Sure.” You smiled widely and ran towards her, climbing into the bed messily, since it was so ridiculously tall.

She laid on her back, opening her arms, and you took that as your chance to cuddle into her, wrapping your tiny limbs around her torso. She caressed your hair until you drifted to sleep.

The next morning you woke up still cuddled to Wanda. She was still fast asleep, and looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to move and risk waking her. Plus, you liked the proximity, the warmth from her body, her arm hugging you close.

A few minutes passed before she opened her eyes, only to be met by yours.

“Good mowning.”

“Good morning princess,” you giggled at the nickname, “wanna go down and get some breakfast?”

You nodded eagerly, already used this new environment, without the rigid rules and punishments. She climbed out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, you just sat up and watched as she washed her face or something. She then went through another door, which you assumed was where she kept her clothes since moments later she came back in different clothes.

She picked you up from the bed and took you into the kitchen. When she walked past the room, a confused expression grew on you.

“Whewe awe we going?”

“To the dining room, we usually have our breakfast there.”

“Oh, okay.”

And that was one breakfast table alright. All kinds of fruit, bread, cereal, cake, cheese and ham, and butter.

“Look who found our little runaway.” Tony commented, but you didn’t give him any attention, mesmerized by the amount of food.

“Yeah, she found her way into my room in the middle of the night.”

“Really? How?” Steve asked.

“Good question, hey, sweetie,” Wanda caught your attention and you turned to look at her, “how did you know which one was my room last night?” You shrugged.

“I just knew whewe to go.”

“Seems like some part of her memory is still intact.” Stark remarked with interest.

Wanda sat down, with you in her lap and started serving food on her plate. The rest of the room fell into light conversation as you all enjoyed breakfast.

Soon you were interrupted by Bruce.

“Guys, I’ve got results from the tests.”

“Do you know what happened?” Steve asked eagerly.

“Kind of, the smoke she inhaled during the mission was poisonous, it was supposed to kill her, but it seems like her cells reacted to it differently.” He explained. “Her shapeshifting abilities reacted with the poison causing her body to, well, change, in order to avoid dying.”

“My powews wewe able to bweak down the poisonous gas into hawmless pawticles.” You responded automatically.

Everyone was shocked at your statement, but you just kept on eating like nothing had happened, not understanding what they were so surprised about.

“Yes… precisely,” Bruce added, slowly, “and that took a toll on her own cells, turning off her powers momentarily, why she got stuck as her five year old self with no memories whatsoever of the rest of her life is unclear.”

“Can you turn her back?” Nat asked.

“I can try and find some serum that reverts her situation, but, by the looks of it, her body is doing it on its own.”

“She did remember her way to my room last night, and now this. It means her memory is coming back.”

“Can you predict how long it’ll take for her to come back to her own self?” Bucky urged.

“Not really, this is all new to me. Although if I had to take a hint, I’d say a couple of weeks at least.” The scientist answered.

“But she will come back, right?” Wanda sounded preoccupied, and it caught your attention.

“Relax sister, she’ll come back. And even if she doesn’t, she’s already in love with you again anyways.” Pietro teased.

“That’s not helping.” She teased back and tightened her hold on you.

A few days passed and, as expected, you were still stuck as a five year old. You would slip out little snippets of things from time to time, memories of things you’ve learned only when you were much older, but you still weren’t coming back.

After a while you fell into a routine. You would sleep with Wanda every night, watch movies with her and some of the other people in that place, Bucky and Sam would come up with the funnest games for you to play, Pietro would take you around the compound to help set pranks to play on the others.

You grew accustomed to the place and the people. The lack of excessive rules was relaxing. How nice everyone was to you. When Wanda would call you cute nicknames and get you all shy and flustered.

You were now watching Frozen for the fifth time that week, with Wanda by your side and Nat, Peter and Sam scattered around the TV room.

They found it adorable how you sang along to every song even though you didn’t know any of the lyrics. Peter and Sam had now countless videos on their phones of you doing all sorts of things just to mock you when you came back to your older self.

The movie was nearing the end, now on the scene where they were rushing Anna to the trolls to see if they could help keep her alive. You sang along to the song up until the moment where Anna collapsed from the spell Elsa threw on her.

At that moment you mindlessly turned to Wanda, the words seeping out of your mouth without your control.

“You bettew not die on ouw wedding.” Her eyes went wide with shock from the statement, which you didn’t notice.

“What?” She whispered, more to herself than to you.

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna mawwy you one day.” You gave her a smile and turned your attention back to the TV, unaware of what you had just said as a blush creeped around Wanda’s face.

When the movie ended, you chanted for you guys to watch it again, earning a groan from everyone. When a yawn escaped your lips, Wanda took that as her cue.

“C’mon, honey, you are tired, we can watch it again tomorrow.” She picked you up.

“Pwomise?” You gave her your puppy eyes.

“I promised.” She pecked your nose, earning a giggle from you.

You settled in her bed as you waited for her to shower and join you. You cuddled into her and drifted off to sleep.

You woke up feeling extremely weird, your muscles ached and your head was spinning a little. You kept your eyes closed as memories from the past days came back to you. The mission going wrong, you waking up in the med bay.

And then you remembered.

“Holy shit.” You whispered to yourself, careful not to wake Wanda.

You had spent the past week as a five year old. Every moment started to come back. You playing hide and seek with Sam and Bucky. That time you and Pietro showered Nat with glitter, and how she almost killed the boy later. Tony being a dad all the time, checking up if you needed anything and making funny faces to make you laugh. Steve carrying you around inside his shield.

And Wanda, always being there with you. Taking care of you. Watching the same movies all the time. Cuddling every night.

Your attention was caught by the woman stirring in bed next to you, still fast asleep. She had been so patient throughout the whole situation that you couldn’t help but smile.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, facing your girlfriend. You watched for a few minutes while she was fast asleep. Just appreciating how beautiful she was and how peaceful she looked. You were falling even more in love with her, if that was possible.

Not being able to hold yourself back any longer, you gave her a lingering kiss to her forehead, moving then to her cheek, leaving small pecks all the way. You then moved to her jaw and neck, inhaling her scent, as your free hand started to draw circles on her stomach.

You felt her breath changing, indicating she was no longer asleep and directed your lips to her ear.

“Good morning, my love,” you whispered softly, pecking her earlobe gently.

Her hands grabbed your cheeks and moved you up to face her, her expression one of full happiness.

“You’re back.” She whispered moments after, trying to convince herself that it was true.

“I’m back.” You leaned down to capture her lips in a long and passionate kiss, resting your forehead against hers’, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she moved so she could stare into your eyes, “I missed you.”

“Why? I was here the whole time.” You teased.

“You know what I mean.” Your smile grew as you leaned in again, your lips meeting in another gentle kiss.

“At least we learned two things from this experience,” she eyed you with curiosity, “first, is that no matter what I’ll always be in love with you,” you referred to the crush five year old you had on her, and enjoyed as her cheeks turned bright red, “and second, is that you are great with kids.”

“I am, aren’t I.”

You spent hours in bed, cuddling, kissing and laughing at your childish antics from the past week.

That’s when you knew, you would marry that girl.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #mcu #fluff #marvel

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frabjousvonniche · 3 years

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Persona 4: Dojima was NOT the original killer- and other rumors

Intro: (You Can Skip This)

If there’s one thing I, a fandom nerd with an unhealthy lust for trivia, absolutely HATE, it’s wild claims with no sources. It was the entire inspiration for my previous Ico post. You might even say I find it... un-BEAR-able.

Living in the information age as we are now, rumors and ridiculous claims are pretty easily debunked for new releases, and discouraged by how easy it is for legions of fans to gang up on you for saying stupid shit and call you mean names until you cry. We have access to so many creator’s blogs, interviews, Youtube channels, and more. Heck, voice actors regularly take requests on Twitter. Misconceptions tend to be pretty easy to clear up these days.

But what about older games, back when this was not always the case? When we rarely heard from studios or developers outside of the occasional short article on a (now long-dead) gaming site? What misconceptions and mysteries continue to run amuck, possibly to never be solved?

I’m glad you asked- irritation has spurned me to collect and research several, from one of my favorite video games of all time: Persona 4. There are quite a few strange ideas I’ve heard over the years, but the biggest one I’m going to tackle is a pretty popular one: The supposed original identity of the killer.

***Spoilers galore***- this game originally came out in 2008.

Whodunnit?

Dojima was originally supposed to be the killer.

False- Or at least, impossible to confirm.

You’ve probably heard this one. It’s all over boards, it’s all over TV Tropes, and it’s all over Reddit. Here’s the thing: This has never been officially stated, anywhere, by anyone. Some people say that this information is given in the notes of the Japanese art book, but this is not true. The text only says that Dojima’s design was tweaked because he looked more like a criminal than someone who chases criminals.

(To be fair, he does look pretty suspicious here)

There is also absolutely no source that mentions anything about this supposed change being made because staff or beta testers complained, or found it too dark or unsettling. I suspect this oft-quoted flavor text is simply the a reflection of the fans’ own opinion on the matter.

Adachi was originally a red herring, and the true killer was someone else.

Not confirmed True

I cannot find any sources to concretely support this idea. The only possibility I’m unable to rule out is his entry in the Japanese art book- some say this is where this information is given, but I can’t find a translation for it.

Update: tumblr user @misedejem had the images I could not find! Thank you so much!

It does in fact appear in the art book- and a more recent translation of the English one, in fact.

There is concept art of the original killer [who was not Adachi] in a yellow raincoat.

False.

There is concept art of Adachi wearing a yellow raincoat. There is no concept art of some other ambiguous character or killer in a yellow raincoat.

(Adachi also dons this same raincoat/jacket in his pre-battle sequence in Persona 4 Arena Ultimax, so it had in fact even made an in-game appearance)

Yukiko and Yosuke were considered candidates to be the killer (with their motives being “for pleasure”).

False.

Having scoured every wiki, interview article, fanpage, and art book scan (if a translation was available) I could find, there was absolutely no mention of this anywhere. Nada, zero, zip, and zilch. Which even I thought was odd, as surely this rumor has to have originated SOMEWHERE. Which brings us to my next, and biggest, entry, the rumor that spawned all the big rumors and presumably this one as well:

An old interview confirms that the identity of the killer was changed very late in the game’s development.

False.

That’s right- this rumor, which seems to be quite widely accepted even among those who are skeptical of all the rest- is simply not true. It originates from an old Gamasutra interview, which states, quote:

“Also, one of the villain characters changed in the middle of development; since the character design was done before the story change, the design did not reflect the fact that he was a villain.”

(For my fellow dyslexics out there: I had to read this sentence over a dozen times before I was sure I understood it- “One of the characters who was NOT a villain became a villain- since we designed him before we decided he was a villain, he’s not evil-looking.”)

It does not say “the killer”, nor does it even say “the main villain”. It says “one of the villain characters”. (We’ll not be too pedantic about the fact that it says “middle of development” rather than “very late in development”, although it is something to take note of)

Does this mean it CANNOT possibly be in reference to the main villain aka Adachi? Of course not. However, the widely circulated rumor that it was a concrete statement is, as you can see, false.

That does of course beg the question of who it could be in reference to- Mitsuo is obviously designed to be disturbing looking, so the statement “did not reflect the fact that he was a villain” doesn’t apply. And that’s a problem- because aside from Mitsuo and Adachi, there aren’t any other real defined “villains” in the story. It would be a stretch to say that the Persona 4 Team could have maybe been referencing Nametame, using the term “villain” loosely to be coy, but that honestly doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. So, does that in fact mean it must have been Adachi, as we’ve assumed? Possibly, but we can’t prove it. Take note that it also doesn’t say “the identity of the killer changed from one character to another”. Technically, it’s possible that the team wasn’t 100% decided on the true identity of the killer, especially if they were in the middle of development- and could have simply CHOSEN Adachi rather than swapped him with someone else who was originally in the spot.

If we could get a translation of Adachi’s page in the Japanese art book, as mentioned above, and it did in fact say he was a red herring, now THAT would be something, and lend way more credence to the “it was supposed to be Dojima” theory. Sadly, until then, all we have is speculation.

See above edit- the rumor about him being a red herring is in fact, true. Wowie!

So why did his rumor get so wildly out of hand, and where does that leave us?

To answer the first question: Fan boards. But more than that, I suspect this rumor gained so much traction because it’s really, really interesting to think about, and because you can see it making sense. Dojima and Adachi could both be potentially suspicious for many of the same reasons- they both work with the police department, so would have every ability to move around beneath suspicion, going to the crime scenes and questioning victims. Dojima is rarely home, so what he could be doing in his off-time is anyone’s guess. It would fit, right? Heck, even some text in the final game seems to agree. If you choose Dojima from the list of options as to who the killer could be, you get this text:

(The person who seems to be the most likely culprit is…

>Ryotaro Dojima

… If Dojima is the killer, he must have been careful to hide his ability to enter the TV world.

Based on that assumption, it seems possible that it could be him.

After all, as your uncle and the owner of the house where you stayed, he could easily have observed your actions.

Obviously, he had easy access to his own house, and he’d be more familiar than anyone else with the area.

… However, your uncle wants to solve this case even at the cost of his life.

His only daughter Nanako was kidnapped by Nametame.

When you consider all the facts, there’s very little to support Dojima as the killer…

For the sake of the suffering detective and his daughter Nanako, you must find the real suspect.)

And can you even imagine the betrayal, the drama, of learning this character you grew close to, lived with, shared blood with, was a cold-hearted killer? That right there is an enticing twist, baby! Fanfic fuel for days. It’s not hard to imagine that it would spread far and fast, without people bothering to fact-check it. And who, besides me, wants to comb the internet looking for old interviews on semi-defunct sites?

Conclusion:

Was the main villain originally someone other than Adachi? Possibly. Was it Dojima? Though it may seem fitting, there has never been any official word or evidence to suggest this. Is it really fun to this about if this scenario was true? Yes.

It’s also annoying that, while updating this post with various other pieces of information which makes these ideas ALL THE JUICIER, we technically still have no official word on anything, which makes the conclusion technically the same, only now all the more frustrating...

Fun fact: While I was stuck in fan-board hell (I ABHOR fan-boards and discussions in all their vapid, argumentative and misspelled glory) I found MANY posts by people who insisted that Nanako must have been the killer/that they really thought she was the killer when they first played. Upon some further incredulous searching I turned up some info that this was simply a long-running joke in the Persona 4 community- immediately followed by a deluge of replies about how all the more people had in fact legitimately believed it and it was not a joke, and at this point we’ve gone so meta I have no idea what the truth is. If there is in fact anyone out there in existence who believes, or believed, that this was ever a possibility, I have only one thing to say to you:

Miscellaneous Rumors:

Naoto was originally supposed to be male

Not confirmed True

This information is supposedly in the Japanese art book, but I can’t find a translation of Naoto’s page.

Update: tumblr user @misedejem had the images I could not find! Thank you so much!

This appears to be 100% true.

Teddie was originally female.

False. True

I can find nothing to support this. Some cite concept art, but all concept sketches of Teddie I can find depict him as male. I can’t even find any of him in his Alice costume that could have caused this misconception.

For some reason I had always heard this rumor referenced as originating in concept art- that is untrue. It apparently originates here: (credit again to @misedejem)

Un-bear-lievable! Looks like it’s true!

Yosuke was originally a romance option.

Plausible, but not technically confirmed.

Due to the way his social link is programmed (the famous “girlfriend flag”, or what makes it possible to give him a hug in rank 8) and the rather romantic-sounding dialogue* left in the game files, it certainly seems plausible or even downright likely, but there’s no official word, and rumors that Atlus forced them to cut it don’t have sources (not that we need any you bigoted assholes).

*Of further note, in the Japanese versions of these lines he explicitly uses the word “suki”, which is almost always used to denote liking someone in a romantic sense.

Kanji was originally a romance option.

Not confirmed

Sorry guys, with all the ship tease you can see where the rumor comes from, and like many of you I certainly wish it were true, but I can’t find any evidence to support there ever being an actual plan for this.

This has been silly post on a topic I enjoy. Maybe you enjoyed it as well!

(P.S: if anyone DOES have a translations for the art pages or can read what they say, please hit me up!)

#persona 4 #p4 #p4u #p4a #persona #ryotaro dojima #persona 4 yosuke #yosuke hanamura #p4 yukiko #yukiko amagi #nanako dojima #p4 kanji #kanji tatsumi #naoto shirogane

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antihero-writings · 3 years

Text

WOOHOO IT'S CHASSEUR DAY!!

This is a fic I started for this prompt on my ph and vnc blog, which I finally got around to finishing today for @phmonth2021's vnc countdown, Day 5: The Chasseurs!

Since the prompt helps explain a bit of why the story is the way it is, I'll include it here!

"But I also agree, Roland & Olivier are two characters that would be really fun to explore. What are they doing when they break out of chasseur mode? I find it amusing that Olivier is so popular with the ladies but can't be bothered by all that. Heh!"

Thank you @adriisamused so much for this prompt!! <3 <3 And once again, I'm sorry it took so long.

I'm honestly really proud of this fic, and I had such much fun with it!! I really hope you all like it!! I'd absolutely love to hear it if you do!!

Lastly, if you enjoyed this, please please don't hesitate to send me more prompts/asks--for anyone in vnc or ph, but especially for these two!! I love writing for them. You can either send them here, or to my ph and vnc blog @this-idiots-left-eye.

Thanks so much for reading!! Reblogs and comments are especially appreciated!! <3

Olivier was having a perfectly satisfactory morning. His coffee smelled just the right shade of black, and was scalding hot—just as he liked it. He brought a book he’d been hoping to read for a while, but hadn’t had the time for recently. He lit a cigarette, and—whatever anyone else said—the smoke was as decadent as any sweet treat from a pastry shop. He was just opening up said book, just bringing the mug to his lips when—

“OLIVER!”

Oliver didn’t jump. Didn’t shout or otherwise react in surprise at the sudden disruption to his morning. Instead, very slowly, he closed the book, very carefully he set down his coffee. He lifted the cigarette and took a long drag, blowing out a substantial wisp of smoke.

And he silently regretted (for what was probably the eightieth time) telling Roland where his favorite coffee shop was.

Roland presently was running up to him, dragging behind him a dazed looking old man, and successfully made it to him by the time he finished his drag.

“Olivier! This poor man has lost his parakeet! He’s looked everywhere and he just can’t find Monsieur Butterbeans! Code blue! Code blue!

“…You know that’s for hospitals, right?”

“Well red just didn’t seem high enough! The situation is dire!”

Olivier blinked, eyes lidded. “Go look for it.”

“Oh Olivier! This simply isn’t a two person job! Two sets of eyes isn’t going to be enough! We simply cannot scour all the skies by ourselves!”

And he was having such a good morning.

“You think I want to spend my afternoon giving myself a crick in the neck?” Olivier asked.

Roland leaned in closer. “I think you want to spend the afternoon helping one of God’s lambs who is in need.” When Olivier stared at him Roland sighed. “If you help...I might just be inclined to work extra hard tomorrow.”

Olivier leaned to the side to look at the old man, who was staring up at the sky, not seeming too bothered. “Where did you lose it?”

“He lost her at the docks!” Roland jumped in—(quite literally jumped in front of him)—and answered for him.

After taking an extra second to try to calculate why a parakeet called ‘Monsieur’ was a ‘she,’ he spoke, perfectly monotone, “So go to the docks.”

“You think we haven’t already tried that! We searched everywhere! She was nowhere to be found!”

“Well if you’ve already searched everywhere—” He began to take another sip of coffee.

“Oh come now, Olivier!” Roland took his arm and shook him, making him both spill some coffee on the table, as well as cough coffee. “What kind of Chasseurs would we be if we gave up helping one of God’s children after one measly search? We’re more determined than that!” He curled his hand into a fist, his eyes sparkling. “Remember the story of the lady and her coins?” He was practically dragging him out of his chair now.

“I don’t think Jesus was talking about parakeets.”

“It’s a parable Olivier, it can be about parakeets if it’s applicable!”

Rather than arguing with him (like he was very much inclined to do) Olivier took another drag from his cigarette and sighed out smoke. “Let me finish my coffee.”

“But Olivier, Monsieur Butterbeans could be halfway up the Seine by now!”

“Let me. Finish. My coffee.” Olivier enunciated each word, staring intently at Roland as he lifted the coffee to his lips.

Roland sighed, and sat down across from him, gesturing to the old man to sit next to him, he obeyed diligently, like he was a pet himself.

Roland folded his hands on the table, and stared at him, with big, imploring eyes, the entire time. Others would have found this more than mildly intimidating, and incentive to drink faster. But Olivier drank his coffee at an ordinary pace, if a little slower than usual. After he was finished he set it down, paid, and left.

If this day was going to be as long as he thought it would be, he wanted to experience it on a full head of caffeine.

They indeed spent all the noon, and half the afternoon searching for her. Olivier tried his best not to look up too much (due to the aforementioned neck-crick potential), but with Roland taking the opportunity every few minutes to slap them both on the shoulders, then point upwards, and shout at shadows, and oddly placed light fixtures, and decorations, “IS THAT HER?!” he couldn’t help looking up.

It was never her.

At one point he was convinced she was nesting in a lady’s hat.

That was also not her.

They had decided to go by the park, and Olivier was just asking why the old man deigned to call a female parakeet “Monsieur” and before the old man could respond, Roland shouted:

“THAT’S HER!”

Olivier, sure it was another false alarm, turned his head with an exasperated sigh building in his throat.

But there was indeed a pretty little parakeet sitting there.

This whole time they thought they would find her nestled in the rafters of some house, or perched on a shop roof, or sign. They had been hoping she wouldn’t find herself too high for them to even see (though Roland had made them climb up building staircases and onto their roofs more than twice).

But there she was, nestled comfortably, not in a tree or on a roof, but on the shoulder of a woman.

More accurately, a mime.

Monsieur Butterbeans was sitting on the shoulder of a mime, and seemed to be having a perfectly pleasant time (ignore the rhyme).

“I mean that simply must be her, right?!” Roland turned to the old man.

The old man nodded vigorously.

Roland’s whole face lit up (though his face was always lit with a sort of angelic glow, so this was a bit of a Moses-and-Mt-Sinai situation) and he was running towards her before they could say a word.

“Salut, Mademoiselle! May I say, you are looking lovely today!”—She waved her hand as if to say, ‘oh stop’—“I simply must thank you!”—She gave an over-exaggerated expression of delight—“That parakeet on your shoulder? She belongs to my friend over there!” He pointed a finger at the old man with the speed and rigidity of a compass needle. “He lost her early this morning!” Roland turned around and was about to march victoriously back, “So thank you so much for—!”

She pretended to make a lasso and swing it around Roland. Even though it was made of nothing more than air, Roland was pulled back.

Olivier put his face in his palm.

He didn’t like mimes on the best of days. They were quiet, which would potentially be a nice quality... if it weren’t for that quietness being, not a means for peace, but rather something to make their interactions with normal-human-beings all that much more frustrating and difficult to discern. And their games with empty air seemed but another reason to disrupt the days of normal natural-world abiding people. They were like vampires…except they couldn’t actually see anything beyond this world, and couldn’t actually alter anything, and they were much more annoying to deal with.

And this one was proving, (as mimes generally did), unable to let them get away without participating in her little farce.

He had a theory that mimes weren’t really there to entertain normal people, rather normal people were there to entertain mimes.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Roland asked.

She held her hand up, and bent her fingers a few times as if to say she would like payment.

“You want a reward?” Roland seemed more than slightly affronted at this. The thought that anyone wouldn’t do a good deed out of the goodness of their heart was nothing short of diabolical to him.

The mimette made several hand motions which, while confusing at first seemed to be her way of conveying that she wasn’t asking for much (Olivier thought that would remain to be seen).

She pondered for a moment with a hand to her chin and squnched up face. Her eyes grazed over the old man, (who had his hands clasped in front of him in a pleading motion), and Olivier (who had folded his arms over his chest, and decided to look away when she looked at him). When he looked back, she was pointing at him.

She pointed at him, then she tapped her finger to her cheek.

Olivier didn’t need an interpreter to understand what that meant.

He recoiled, his voice going low and tense, “I would…prefer another method.”

It’s not like he didn’t know how to kiss a woman, (he’d done a lot more than kiss more than one woman), but this was just—

“Oh it’s just one little kiss, Olivier!” Roland waved his hand. “Do it for Monsieur Butterbeans!” (Monsieur Butterbeans decided to take this opportunity to do the important job of pooping on her shoulder).

Well someone ought to do it.

The mime did the lasso trick again, this time with Olivier. Olivier decidedly did not play along, but she was clearly well-versed in the ways of unparticipatory students, and happy to use the invisible rope to pull herself towards him. (Roland looked delighted with the show).

She got uncomfortably close, put her hands behind her back and presented her cheek.

Olivier looked away, his arms still folded.

Roland still found a way to get in his line of sight, and gave him the thumbs up.

The mimette stood on her tiptoes and blinked her eyelashes repeatedly. She might have been pretty, but who could tell under all that disgusting makeup? ( …Which Olivier did not want on his lips).

“This is ridiculous.” He grunted. “There are other ways to—”

“It’s just one little kiss Olivier!" Roland repeated. "She seems a perfectly nice lady! She deserves it!”

Olivier was not going to humiliate himself for a parakeet, who seemed to rather like this mime anyways.

“Remember, I might just be inclined to work harder tomorrow!”

Olivier sighed, still not looking at her.

“Fine, if you can’t do it, I’ll kiss her!” Roland stepped forward.

“No, no, I’ll do it!” Olivier pinched the bridge of his nose. ”She clearly likes me.” Olivier peeked open an eye to see the mime blinking more profusely, apparently not the least bit offended at his obvious disinterest. (Only more evidence for the normal-people-are-entertainment-fodder-for-the-mimes theory)

“Are you sure? Because you don’t seem like you’re going to do it. It’s really fine if you want me to!”

Olivier took a rather long moment to gather himself, and all the dignity that he knew he was about to lose. He kept his eyes firmly shut…and gave her a peck on the cheek.

…Except, when Olivier opened his eyes, he came to find—(to his absolute horror)—that in the moment he had taken to muster his courage, Roland had decided that Olivier wasn’t going to do it, and went in to kiss her other cheek. The mime recognized this in perfect time, (and in perfect mime fashion), stepped out of the way. So the person who he had kissed was actually….

Olivier jerked away with what almost sounded like a horrified squeak, his hand flying to his mouth. He then turned sharply away, sticking out his tongue, and hacking like a cat who had a hairball.

Roland simply blinked, then began to laugh mirthfully, like he didn’t find the situation the least bit awkward. “Well played, Mademoiselle!” He applauded her.

The mime bowed with a flourish of her hand, and as she lowered herself Monsieur Butterbeans flew off her shoulder and into the hand of her owner, who he then brought up to his own cheek to nuzzle gratefully

“Olivier, your mouth tastes like an ashtray.” Roland remarked as they began to leave—waving his hand and sending an extra thank you towards the mime. “I really hope you don’t smoke before you kiss women. It doesn’t make me want to kiss you again you know.” Roland put his hand on his shoulder.

Olivier flinched violently, snapped equally violently, “Don’t touch me!” and said low, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost I dearly hope it doesn’t.”

Roland just laughed.

“If you even think about mentioning this to anyone—” his glared at him, hoping his eyes were as sharp as he intended them to be.

“I really don’t know what the big fuss is about! It was just a silly prank! And a rather clever one on her part!”

Olivier stuck his tongue out again, feeling like he was going to vomit. “It was a disgusting prank.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll feel insulted! I hope my mouth didn’t taste half as bad as yours did.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Your mouth didn’t taste like anything, because that didn’t happen and we are never talking about it!”

“Well, nothing to complain about is good news I guess!”

“Stop. Talking. About it.”

They had been walking a good way, and the sun was setting over the city, when the old man stopped in front of them, holding Monsieur Butterbeans in front of him, looking down at her lovingly.

“Thank you for helping me find my dear Monsieur Butterbeans,” the old man spoke. (Olivier tried not to shout in surprise at the reveal that he could actually talk). “The Church really does help those in need, doesn’t it? You’re good boys.”—(Olivier would have preferred ‘men’ but)—“I would like to repay you somehow.”

“Oh no, we simply couldn’t accept!” Roland burst out, stepping forward. “A good deed is its own reward! ‘Anything you do for the least of these’ and all! Although, you’re not the least of course! It’s just a verse you know! Well no verse is just a verse, but—”

“I feel I must do something for your…trouble.” (Olivier curled his nose at the slight snicker there was behind the word ‘trouble.’) “At the very least, I have some rather nice vintage wines in my cellar—“

Before Roland could say once again that that-really-wasn’t-necessary, Olivier shot his hand in front of him and said, a little too loudly, “We will gladly accept.”

******

The next day Olivier was leaning back in his chair in front of a rather large stack of paperwork, massaging the crick in his neck when Roland burst in, a little girl hiding behind him.

“OLIVIER!” He panted. “Olivier, this poor girl has lost her favorite doll! We simply must help her!”

Olivier shut his eyes, rubbing his temple, his voice shaking. “You told me you would work harder if I—”

“I will! I will! But this is urgent!”

Olivier sighed. “Astolfo!” He yelled.

After a few moments, a boy with red hair came in.

“You sent for me?”

“Roland has a job for you...(however ridiculous it may be)," he added under his breath. "Will you help find this girl’s doll?” Olivier marched forward, his footsteps ominous on the stone floor, and grabbed Roland’s wrist a little too tight, dragging him into a chair, “Roland here has work to do.”

As Astolfo obliged, Olivier muttered, more to Roland than anyone else, “And he’s not getting out of it this time.”

Roland pouted, plopping down in the chair to properly do his Chasseur work.

...And Olivier couldn’t help but feel like he was having a perfectly satisfactory morning once again.

<-Day 6: The Royals

Day 4: Chloé and/or Jean-Jacques->

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wanna-do-bad-things · 4 years

Text

Expecting.

Summary: Tired of dating for nothing, Henry laid everything out for her on that very first date. But when he gets everything he hoped for, there’s one thing left that he really wants.

Word count: 1683

Warnings: trying to get pregnant (no heartbreak tho, it just takes a lil time), fluffy baby daddy Henry

A/N: this was for @henrythickcavill, requested via my patreon.

________

Henry has been on cloud nine ever since she told him she was pregnant. Tired and mentally exhausted trying to find the right person, Henry had all but given up. It’s not that he was actively looking for a girlfriend, or wife in his case, but he did hope that when the right person came along, he’d just know. He’d feel it in his bones. He didn’t think it would happen like it does in the movies, where everything aligns, everything tastes better, music sounds better and he can breathe like he’s never breathed before. But he thought he’d feel something different.

She didn’t breeze into his life. She didn’t make him understand now why everything else hadn’t worked out. But what she did do was make him wonder how the hell he’d managed to feel so complete before when he felt bursting at the seams when he was around her. He’d laid it all on the table on their first date.

“I know this is a little full on, but I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t keep doing meaningless dates. If you’re not looking for something serious, something long term and possibly the end goal, then this date isn’t going to go far. You can leave, I’ll still pay for the bill, but I won’t hold it against you. I understand not everyone will be on the same page.”

Instead of pushing her chair back, grabbing her coat and bag and walking out of the restaurant, she pulled her chair a little closer, poured them both a drink and said, “so what colour theme are we having at the wedding and how many children are we having?”

She took an open interest in what he had to say, she challenged him on a few of his viewpoints just for a good conversation piece. They shared many of the same opinions and differed on a handful but nothing deal breaking or something that neither could get past. Henry understood that not everyone was the same and listening to her speak was amazing. He adored that they were on the same page when it came to values and their life.

As the weeks and months went on, he tried to trip her up. Tried to catch her out and see if she was just spoon feeding him everything he wanted to hear but no, it continued to flow almost perfectly. Henry took her on several vacations per year, she joined him on set, rode him when he needed his stress relieving and helped him with his lines. She was by no means a good actress, but she would try to put her feelings into it, try to give the script some sort of justice and helped Henry when he needed it.

They married three years later, with her joking that Henry would rush her down the aisle just so he could get straight to the baby making part of marriage. But it didn’t happen as quickly as either of them hoped. She came off her birth control and though they’d lose themselves within the sheets (or on the counter tops, table, against the hallway wall, the sofa, his gaming chair…just anywhere which could hold their weight,) as often as possible without wanting to take the fun out of sex and just have it for the sake of having a baby, pregnancy just wasn’t as easy to happen as they’d thought.

A year and half into their marriage, she’d began to draw up schedules, bought thermometers to check her temperature and downloaded several “trying to get pregnant” apps. She tracked her cycles, found the optimum times for having sex and had started to pitch it all to Henry when she realised she was two weeks late.

He’d sat there before her, waiting for her to reach the main part of her big presentation of why looking at their baby making schedule would be most effective when he’d watched the blood drain from her face and her scramble out of the room, roughly slamming the bathroom door closed and lock it before he’d been able to fully understand what had just happened. He’d heard things dropping onto the floor, things being torn open and as he’d stood nervously on the other side of the bathroom door, his hand on the wooden surface, listening carefully for anything which could give him an idea of what had happened, he’d finally heard the little sob that came from her.

“Are you ok?” He’d asked softly, not wanting to refer to her by any pet names, instead addressing her by her name. She hadn’t replied for a moment or two, just the sound of her soft cries filling the room in which he couldn’t access until she’d finally slid the lock open and he found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by torn open pregnancy test boxes and four tests sitting in front of her, letters boasting PREGNANT 4+ WEEKS on each of them.

Henry hadn’t wanted to go too crazy. He’d wanted this for too long and didn’t want to curse anything by purchasing anything too early. He’d gripped her hand, their fingers locked together, tears falling from his eyes as he’d pressed their hands to his lips as his eyes had remained fixated on the screen during her scan, watching as their two babies wriggled around for them. Watching as their tiny limbs stretched out and they flipped themselves around in their little bubble of comfort.

With each passing week, Henry ensured that he took care of any of the big jobs, needing her to take it as easily as possible. She hadn’t wanted to completely give up their workouts, and he’d make sure that he was there to observe each one, with a personalised plan specifically for pregnancy. They scoured the websites for the perfect nursery set up. With the babies genders remaining a secret, pots of neutral paint sits in the room. Dust sheets are down ready to catch any splatters of paint which hadn’t made it onto the walls. Tins of light colours are waiting to be applied and Henry has changed into his “DIY” clothes which are sweatpants and a loose, though still fitted for him, cotton tee shirt.

Most of the walls will be a pale grey to match the carpet, but there’ll be soft mint greens, duck egg blues, pale yellows scattered around the room in forms of cuddle bears, artwork and books that he wants to read to them. Two rocking chairs have been placed, and tested, and he already looks forward to sitting in them while reading to the two of them as they have their feed, much like he’s already done with her sitting beside him, their joined hands pressed to her large bump as he’d read some of his favourite childhood stories to them so that they would already recognise his voice. She’s due in one months’ time, and only now does he feel confident enough to begin to paint and assemble everything he’d bought.

She’d caught him in the middle of their living room two months ago, the boxes emptied out and him checking every screw, every nut, bolt and piece against the assembly instructions to ensure that everything was there, fully prepared with the phone and laptop beside him to make all the forms of contact needed to get the right parts sent out. “I’m not leaving it until last minute to then find out something is missing, or wrong or damaged and it’s too late.”

He’s strolled around the house with the double pram, telling her he needed to break in the wheels. He’s practiced for what felt like hours closing the pram and re-opening it again. Getting it in and out of the large car which he bought for the babies in mind. He’s tested numerous ways of picking up the baby carriers and how to get them in and out of the car with ease. He’s completed a baby first aid course and made sure he’s bought enough things to baby proof the house.

“You have some explaining to do.” She says, waddling into the doorway of the nursery, holding up some of the baby outfits he’s purchased.

“Look at the little cape though.” He grins, putting down the paint roller and tray before he’s even applied the first stroke. He walks over to her, his hand instinctively going to her belly as the other touches the cape of the baby vest which reads “my daddy is superman.”

“And this?” She holds up a mini Chiefs kit.

“I don’t make the rules around here. It’s law that they should match their daddy.”

“But what if they choose to suppo-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Henry cuts her off with a wag of his finger, “we don’t have none of that negativity around here. Absolutely not.” It takes everything she can muster not to crack another smile and to try and keep her expression as neutral as possible but the stern look upon Henry’s face makes it more difficult to do so.

“You can’t wait for this, can you?” She asks him as she sinks down into her rocking chair and slowly goes back and forth, sighing contently to get the weight from her swelling ankles and sore feet.

“Lumberjack beard, bags under my eyes so big I could do a months shopping in them and endless stories of ‘so yeah, my kid pooped today’ conversations. I can’t wait.”

“No dad bod?” She questions.

“I’m a daddy now, and I’ve got a body.” You sure are daddy, she thinks. If she weren’t suffering from her aching hips, she’d be wanting to climb onto his lap and ride him. He looks far too good right now.

“Yeah you have, now let me see that body of yours get to work….on this room. Not on me.” She says, holding up her finger and lifting a leg up as though that could stop Henry from covering her body with his own, “you’ve done enough.”

“Well, you know what they say… it helps to speed things along…”

#henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Lucien’s Noble Virtue Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Note: This date was translated by @redqueenschoice! All I did was format and check through :> It’s on my blog because she doesn’t want to put individual translations on hers...

Lucien’s Qixi Collection: Date ♡ / Call 1 / Call 2 / Event / Special Call

I was mistaken to be a demon by several Taoist priests. Luckily, Lucien helped me escape from them. On my way home the second day, I ran into Lucien by coincidence. I intended to bring him to the forest near my home to pick some fruits, but discovered that my home had been burned down by some people…

The night is heavy, and in all four directions there is nothing but soundless silence. Only a small window remains lit.

Under the flickering candlelight, I see the indistinct silhouette of a man dressed in white robes sitting at the long, narrow table, back facing me as he looks at the bookshelves.

Psst…

All of a sudden, the flames on the candles jump and the movement of his hand stills with it, an elegant finger resting on the corner of a page.

Right at this moment, an abrupt, ear-splitting noise shatters the peaceful night.

Taoist Priest: Catch the demon!

Like a stone thrown into still waters, it causes ripple upon ripple upon the once calm surface. People who were sound asleep a few moments ago are galvanised into action, and in an instant the compound is once again bathed in torchlight.

No time to be hesitant! Gritting my teeth, I jump, slipping and sliding my way down the roof, falling straight into the room.

Man Dressed in White: Who is it?

MC: Ahh!

Alarm bells ringing in my head, I rush forward to clap a hand over the man’s mouth.

MC: Keep your voice down! I don’t have any bad intentions.

Standing on tiptoes, I lean forward to whisper into his ear.

MC: I’m being hunted by some Taoist priests for being a demon, but they are mistaken!

MC: If you won’t make a sound, I’ll release my hand.

The man’s initial shock seems to be wearing off, only to be replaced by an inquiring gaze.

MC: If you understand, blink twice. Got it?

Under the moonlight streaming in from the windows, I realise that the man before me has a pair of clear and beautiful eyes. After a moment of contemplation, he lightly blinks twice in succession.

MC: Then I’ll release you…

Who would have thought that the moment I pulled my hand away, the man’s voice would sound right next to my ear.

Man Dressed in White: Someone, come quickly… mmph!

MC: You…. How could you go back on your word like that!

The temporal trust I had in him was broken. I stare angrily at the man with my hand over his mouth again, reminding myself that one cannot simply trust appearances. As if trying to provoke me on purpose, he turns to look at me with a guileless expression, his gaze clear.

Fiercely, I give him a sharp glare, and begin to threaten him.

MC: Listen up, you. I might not be a demon, but I’m not like ordinary people either. If I fall into the hands of those Taoist priests, it isn’t going to be anything good for you too!

Man Dressed in White: Oh? Is that so.

The man pulls my hand down with remarkable calm, raising an eyebrow at me with a serene smile, a wisp of amusement dancing in his eyes.

MC: You…

I can’t help but grow slightly apprehensive… Could he possibly be that person of high ranking and station who’s elusive and never shows his face?

I awkwardly let out a soft cough, looking about for a moment, and decide to change my strategy.

MC: Of course, if you cooperate well, it’ll be a different matter altogether.

With these words, I open up my hand and let a burst of energy leave my body. Shining with white light, the luminescent rays I produce shine about on my palm, before they coalesce into a tiny fruit. Upon seeing this, surprise flashes across the man’s face. For a moment, I wonder if he’s been shocked by my spiritual powers, and can’t help but feel slightly proud.

Man Dressed in White: Is that… “purple ying fruit”?

MC: How do you know that? Only at the forest near my home can one find these fruits.

He doesn’t answer. After looking at the fruit in the middle of my palm, his gaze returns to my face, his expression growing more and more severe.

Man Dressed in White: Tell me, how did you get your spiritual powers?

In the blink of an eye, an invisible, oppressive force envelopes me, making it difficult to breathe.

MC: Why… why should I tell you?

I try to look unaffected, but the man seems to see through me easily, and lets out soft laughter. The intimidating aura radiating from his body disperses in an instant.

Man Dressed in White: Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you.

With these words, he leans over to pick up the fruit in my palm, the expression on his face showing that he’s enjoying himself quite immensely. Clearly, I was the one threatening him. But why does it feel like the tables have turned?

Not wanting to be looked down on by him, I try to explain myself, upset.

MC: Don’t underestimate me! My spiritual powers are actually quite awesome, it’s just that right at this moment, I can’t really use them…

MC: If you agree to help me this time, I promise I’ll repay you greatly in the future!

He laughs again, eyes twinkling, and is just about to reply when there’s the sudden noise of frantic knocking on the door.

Thud thud thud.

Taoist Priest: Anyone there!?

My heart beats like a drum in my chest. I had no idea that the Taoist priests would catch up with me so quickly. The man motions for me to hide myself, before walking to the door. Seeing that I’m unable to restrain him, I can only slip into the shadows and pray that he won’t hand me over to them.

Man Dressed in White: What is it?

Taoist Priest: Young master, apologies for the disturbance we’ve caused you. We discovered a demon nearby who’s especially cunning in shapeshifting, and has been taking the form of an ordinary woman all along.

Taoist Priest: After exposing her, my brothers and I chased her from the mountains all the way here. May I ask if the young master has encountered any disturbances tonight?

Man Dressed in White: I have.

At his words, my heart plunges in my chest. Suddenly, however, I see him pointing outside of the room towards one of the walkways on the right.

Man Dressed in White: I saw a silhouette of a person running in that direction. It’s just that they were too quick, and I wasn’t able to see clearly if it’s the… demon that you’re searching for.

The word ‘demon’ is spoken with more intent, power woven into every syllable. The Taoist Priest expresses his thanks gratefully.

Taoist Priest: Many thanks to you, young master! We will capture the demon immediately!

With that, he indicates to the rest of his men to come with him and they vanish together with him. Looking at their receding backs, I let out a sigh of relief.

MC: Wahh… you scared me earlier!

Man Dressed in White: Apologies, it was a slip of the tongue. However, I didn’t think you would be this scared.

MC: Of course I was terrified! Earlier, they took out charms and amulets and even talked about burning me! Luckily, I was able to give them the slip quickly.

MC: But thank you for your benevolence in saving me! I’m afraid… I have yet another favour to ask of you…

The moonlight from outside slowly waxes. I look at the man opposite me and rub my nose, feeling a little bad.

MC: It’s already late and I’m afraid I’ll run into those men again if I leave now so… would the young master be willing to let me lodge here for one night?

Even though I don’t know or understand him, for reasons I don’t understand, the aura that this man radiates is rather familiar. Tonight, I have no other choice, and only have this half baked plan to save myself.

Man Dressed in White: Alright.

MC: How can you agree so quickly?!

Man Dressed in White: Then, would you rather I reject your request?

MC: Of course not! I just thought that if you let me stay… you might run into some sort of danger…

At my words, the corners of the man’s lips lift up in a slight smile.

Man Dressed in White: I trust my instincts.

Note from Red: 👀

MC: Then I’m extremely grateful to you! How should I address you?

He looks into my eyes steadily, and gives me a light smile.

Man Dressed in White: Call me Lucien, then.

The moment the sun rises on the second day, I depart from Lucien’s house, leaving behind several purple ying fruits on his table as thanks.

On the journey home, the summer heat is near unbearable and I lick my dry lips, throat suddenly very parched.

MC: I’m so thirsty… if only there was some water to drink.

Lucien: Although I have no water, I do have fruits that are able to quench one’s thirst. I wonder if you would be interested in them?

A serene and gentle voice drifts from behind me and I turn towards the sound in surprise, only to see Lucien standing there, eyes curved into crescents and holding two fruits I had left him in his palm.

MC: Lucien! What are you doing here?

Lucien: I’m a physician, so it’s only natural that I scour through the mountains for medicinal herbs.

Lucien: This morning, when I saw the gift you had left behind, I nearly thought I had let a ‘river snail maiden’ stay in my house for the night.

Lucien walks over, and presses the two fruits into my hand.

Lucien: These fruits have a rather decent taste to them. Coincidentally, I also found out that they seem to have medicinal properties that I could use.

Lucien: I remember you mentioning that these fruits only grow in the forest near your home. Is that right?

MC: That’s right! Do you need some? I’m on my way home right now, so I could bring you along with me if you want me to.

Lucien: Then I will have to trouble you, miss.

Along the forest path that we take, there’s the occasional call of a bird, and the crunching of leaves under our feet. Apart from that, however, the vast forest is especially quiet and peaceful.

MC: That’s strange. Why haven’t we met anyone along this path yet?

MC: But the footprints along here are all over the place, as if many people have taken this road…

Lucien: My guess is that it has something to do with you.

Lucien: This place is rather secluded, and not many people live here. Coupled with the ruckus of a demon being discovered last night, the news must have already spread rapidly all the way down here.

MC: You’re saying… because they were scared, they fled on the same night? Hahaha… that can’t be it…

After laughing for a bit, the smile on my face fades slowly.

The night before, my only focus had been to shake those priests off my tail, and I had not thought about how I was going to explain this incident to the people yet.

MC: It’s all those priests’ fault!

MC: If it weren’t for them having no regard at all for the lives of demons, and trying to eliminate two lesser demons without relenting…

Trivia from Red: MC uses a Chinese idiom 草菅“妖”命, which is a play on the actual Chinese idiom 草菅人命. 人 means human, while 妖 means demon, so she’s saying that the priests treat the lives of demons as less than straw or grass.

MC: I wouldn’t have outed myself trying to save them.

Sulking, I smack myself on the head lightly.

Lucien: So that’s what happened.

Lucien thinks about what I said for a moment, and smiles.

Lucien: This is truly interesting.

Lucien: As one from the human race, you detest those priests, yet do not hate demons.

Lucien: Here I thought after the calamity that happened ten years ago, all humans would hate demons and mythical beasts down to the very marrow of their bones.

Lucien: You really are a very strange maiden.

His words jog my memory to the past that happened ten years ago – that terrible conflict.

I heard that when I was eight, everything under the sun was in chaos and calamity. Tens of thousands of demons emerged. They committed evil all over the world, and caused the common people to suffer unspeakable horrors.

Of course the humans’ animosity towards demons would run strong and deep.

People like me who don’t hate demons are few and far between, so it’s no wonder that he finds me a little eccentric.

MC: Actually, just as there are both good and bad humans, I think that applies to them as well.

MC: That terrible calamity was only able to come to an end because of the appearance of the heavenly beast Bai Ze. It’s he who single-handedly vanquished and suppressed all those demons.

MC: Although he wasn’t human, he could understand the pain of the people, and sympathised with them.

Lucien: On the contrary, I do not think he’s such a kindhearted person.

Lucien’s words stop me dead in my tracks.

Lucien: The Bai Ze has lived for hundreds and thousands of years. All he has done might not be for anyone at all.

Lucien: Being driven to act by emotions - that seems to be an experience wholly unique to the human race.

Lucien: In the end, the Bai Ze is not human.

Lucien says this lightly, yet there is a shred of uncertainty in my heart.

MC: Then what did he do it for? Is alleviating the suffering of humans not a good enough reason for him?

MC: As a doctor yourself, when you’re saving those on the verge of death or helping those who are injured, are you not swayed by emotions?

Lucien: Life and death is only natural, and one cannot flee before it.

Lucien: I’m only following the natural order of the world.

His words make me pause for a moment, but after a short while, I shake my head again.

MC: I still believe that not all demons are evil by nature. And besides…

MC: I’ve been saved by one of them before.

Something flashes in Lucien’s eyes, transient.

Lucien: Oh? How so?

Looking about and seeing that there’s no one else in sight, I hesitate for a moment before opening my mouth to speak.

MC: When I was young, I ate something unknown in a forest and ended up fainting, remaining unconscious for three days.

MC: But in my dreams, I could feel spiritual energy flowing into my body continuously. I always think that there might just be something that’s always protecting me silently.

MC: However, I think that it’s an existence far more powerful than a human or a demon at that.

While reminiscing my story, I don’t notice the way Lucien’s eyes fall upon me.

Quietly, he withdraws his gaze and smiles lightly.

Lucien: It seems that I am not mistaken.

MC: Eh?

Just as I begin to wonder what he could mean by this, Lucien suddenly stops, the smile on his face completely vanished.

MC: What’s wrong?

The second I say those words, I begin to smell the stench of something burning in the air. I follow Lucien’s line of sight to see the forest before us burning fiercely, gigantic flames licking at the trees.

Thick smoke spirals upwards through the air, and the animals of the woods flee the fire in every direction. In the distance, I see my house in the heart of the flames, the flames consuming everything in its surroundings.

Amidst the flames, I catch sight of several amulets plastered over the side of my house, and on the wall is written ‘demon’.

Everything had been just as Lucien thought it would be. The people really did think I was a demon.

MC: Why, without listening to my explanation, they…

Anger, hurt and sorrow well up in me, but also a sense of burning determination.

MC: No, I can’t let all this be burnt down for nothing!

Taking a step forward, a hand wraps around me and pulls me backwards, and I lose my balance, falling into Lucien’s embrace.

Lucien: What are you intending to do?

Lucien: Judging from how large this fire is, even before an incense stick burns out, your house will have been burnt to the ground.

Trivia from Red: Ancient Chinese people used to measure time by burning incense sticks, so time could be told by how many incense sticks were burnt in that duration.

Lucien: Even if you put yourself in danger and charge in now, you still wouldn’t be able to return it to its original state.

MC: What I’m worried about is not the house!

MC: If this fire keeps on burning, the fire will eventually burn down the forest, and the spirits who live here will have their homes destroyed!

Lucien’s eyes flicker with complex emotions for a moment, but he quickly brings them under control.

Lucien: Even if that is the case, you think that you can stop a fire of this size with your power alone?

At his question, I shake my head honestly, looking into his eyes with earnest conviction.

MC: Lucien, I know I’m just an ordinary person. However, I’m an ordinary person with some special abilities.

MC: I’m not like you, a physician, who can save those in need of medical help;

MC: And neither am I like Bai Ze, who can calm everything under the sky, and bring peace to the common people, but…

I reach out, pulling down the hand that’s holding me back slowly.

MC: But I’ll do the best of what I can with what I have. I won’t waste the power that I have.

At the sight of my determined gaze, Lucien seems stunned, looking slightly perturbed.

MC: Go back first! It’s too dangerous here. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I won’t get hurt.

I wave at him to leave, and without a second of hesitation, run straight into the flames.

All sound seems to be drowned out from my ears, and only my heartbeat resounds over and over again. I concentrate on running straight to the heart of the fire.

Towards it, aside from what I had told Lucien earlier, there’s an inexplicable feeling that even I cannot put into words even if I tried.

There’s a person that I met here before, and it’s a memory I don’t want to lose no matter what.

Even though I cannot recall it myself.

The girl only focuses on running forward, and does not notice the shining light that starts to shine beneath her feet with every step she takes. It slowly wraps around her entire body, protecting her from being burned by the fire.

Behind the girl, Lucien stands where she left him, silently watching her back. Just like he did all those years ago.

The fire grows bigger and bigger, and the black smoke chokes the sky, turning it dark.

White light shines from my palms, eradicating some of the flames before me. Just as they disappear, however, their place is taken over by larger, fiercer flames. My ability to think slowly fades.

Just when I couldn’t hold on anymore, the sound of a flute drifts through the air, piercing through the roar of the fire.

Right after that, pat. I look up, and a raindrop lands on my forehead.

Two drops, three drops. The rain grows heavier and heavier, and what was once a light drizzle begins to fall hard. It scatters the smoke in the air, and puts out the fire around me.

In the blink of an eye, as if by magic, the massive fire has been extinguished.

The clouds in the sky part to allow the sun to shine through, its gentle rays touching the ground.

I turn around and look towards the source of the flute’s melody…

In the scattered, mottled light, I see that the one who is playing the flute is Lucien.

With the sound of his flute, the trees that had been charred by the fire sprout new leaves, and the ground that had been scorched black covers itself in green once more. Even the flowers that had been scorched now grow again, one by one, dotting the woods.

Lucien’s eyes are closed, immersed in the music, as if listening to the sounds of every creature under the sun.

I continue staring in a daze at the sight before me until the song ends. When that happens, the animals and life have returned to the woods once more.

As if he’s long sensed my gaze on him, Lucien opens his eyes slowly, his gaze coming to rest on me.

A gentle breeze wafts across him, his hair and clothes moving slightly with the wind, and his eyes are pure and bright.

Lost in thought, I feel like I’ve seen those eyes before somewhere. At that moment, he looks at me the same way.

MC: Just who are you…

Lucien: More importantly, you should rest right now.

Lucien’s gaze is filled with gentle warmth.

Lucien: your spiritual energy right now is too weak and unstable. If you continue to go on like this, I’m afraid that you’ll put your life in danger.

MC: How do you know that my spiritual energy is too weak? Can you sense my spiritual power somehow?

Lucien: Because…

Lucien’s eyes flash for a moment, before a small smile forms on his face.

Lucien: Because you couldn’t even beat those priests from yesterday.

MC: …

I wanted to argue, but felt a wave of exhaustion pass over me. I blink tiredly.

MC: But… you still haven’t told me who you are.

Everything before me becomes more and more blurry. In this haze, I feel a hand resting lightly on top of my head.

Lucien: Be obedient, now.

Lucien: What you want to know… I’ll let you recall it soon.

As if in a dream, the haze before my eyes suddenly lifts. The forest before me is exactly the same, except this time, the trees are much shorter than they are in the present.

I see a white divine beast with his eyes closed, collapsed on the ground, before him a small pile of what resembles purple ying fruit.

At the side, a young girl squats beside him, eyes wide as she watches him.

My heart skips a beat at the sight – that little girl, it’s me!

MC: How did you get all these injuries? Does it hurt? Can I touch you?

The little girl stretches out a hand, and being careful to avoid its injuries, softly strokes it.

The moment she touches him, the divine beast opens his eyes, and in his gaze swirls a mixture of shock and uncertainty.

Those eyes!

While I’m still thinking about it, I hear the girl speak again.

MC: Why won’t you eat anything? Do you not want to live anymore?

MC: Perhaps… are you like me, who’s lost my family?

My heart suddenly throbs. At that time, to me, losing my family was the most painful thing in the world.

MC: I understand that’s very sad, but there are so many sights in the world that I haven’t seen, and so many fruits I haven’t tasted. Dying now would be too much of a pity.

MC: You shouldn’t give up either!

The words pour from the girl’s mouth in a steady flow, as if the beast can understand everything she’s saying.

MC: This fruit is called the purple ying fruit. It’s especially sweet! I’ll let you try some.

The girl picks up a fruit and holds it up to the beast’s mouth, smiling at him, although her hand trembles a little from fear.

For a while, the beast doesn’t move. Just as the girl is about to give up and put her hand down, he suddenly opens his mouth, and with sharp teeth steals away the fruit in her hand.

The girl jumps in fright at his sudden action, but seeing that he’s finally willing to eat, happily begins to share the purple ying fruit with him.

Young!MC: Hmm, why is this fruit white?

In the pile of purple fruits, the young girl catches sight of a white fruit.

Young!MC: I wonder how it tastes like… let me taste it!

Note from Red: mc nO-

With that, she pops the fruit into her mouth. The divine beast’s eyes widen, and he gets to his feet with the intention to stop her, but can’t do anything as he watches the girl swallow the fruit.

Young!MC: [cough]

Young!MC: This fruit… isn’t… isn’t tasty…

The young girl’s face creases, skin pale before she collapses to the ground.

The divine beast makes to move closer, but hears footsteps approaching from afar.

After a moment of hesitation, he hides behind the trunk of a large tree. He watches as two passing woodcutters discover the girl and decide to carry her down the mountain.

The breeze blows lightly, and the trees sway in the wind. The divine beast watches the girl’s back from a distance, deep and serene eyes flickering with something for the first time.

???: MC… MC…

Someone seems to be calling my name.

I feel warm energy entering my chest slowly, and the lost memories I once held seem to return with it, turning clearer and clearer in my mind.

From the midst of that dream, I open my eyes and realise that I’m lying on the forest floor.

Lucien: Have you awoken?

Note from Red: OH MY GOD SEXY LU PIC HERE

Lucien stops in the midst of pouring energy into me. One hand propping up his head, he smiles down at me lightly.

Opening my eyes just to see a sight like this, I can only stare with wide eyes and blink owlishly at him.

Note from Red: same, mc, same…

Lucien: Not too long ago, you fainted from an overuse of spiritual energy.

Lucien: Is this what you mean by ‘I know what I’m doing’?

Lucien: It seems that even though this silly little girl has already grown up, her habit of being a busybody hasn’t changed in the least.

My heart skips a beat. No wonder I thought his eyes looked so familiar…

MC: So you were the divine beast I met when I was young!

The image still fresh in my mind, I blurt out these words thoughtlessly.

MC: Then what about your injuries from last time? Are they alright?

Lucien: After waking up, that’s the first question you ask?

Lucien: If you want to know, how about you examine me yourself?

Note from Red: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 (yes please)

It’s only then that I notice that the collar of his shirt has been pulled wide open, revealing the flawless skin of his chest.

And my hand is hooked onto the fabric incriminatingly, resting over his chest where I can feel his heartbeat through the skin of my palm.

As if understanding my confusion, Lucien ‘kindheartedly’ decides to explain to me what happened.

Lucien: I didn’t think that in sleep, you would be so forward.

MC: …!!!

MC: I… I’m sorry… Ah!

In my hurry to sit up, I accidentally smack my face into his hard chest, and can only rub my nose in pain.

Lucien: Are you alright? Calm down, I was just teasing you a little.

Me, alright? My heart is pounding wildly, so I quickly try to distract him with a question.

MC: So we knew each other from long ago… but why don’t I remember a thing?

Lucien: I made you forget.

MC: But…

At that moment, memories flash through my mind and I gasp in realisation.

MC: It was you who poured spiritual energy into me every night when I was unconscious, weren’t you!

When he did it to me earlier, it had felt so familiar.

Lucien: There’s something you got wrong earlier. I’m not a human, but I’m not a demon either.

Lucien: Rather than the name I use presently, humans have called me ‘Bai Ze’ for ages.

MC: You… You’re the Bai Ze?!

I never would have thought that I would meet the legendary divine beast!

MC: So, the reason I was able to attain spiritual powers - does that have something to do with you as well?

MC: What was the thing I ate when I was a young? Why did it cause me to be unconscious for three days?

MC: Did my spiritual powers come about because of it too?

Lucien: You’ve asked so many questions at once. Which should I answer first?

Lucien: Now that you mention it, you’ve reminded me of something – that time, you stole one of my elixir pills and ate it.

MC: You mean that fruit was actually your elixir pill?!

Lucien: I never said that it was a ‘fruit’. I was originally going to eat it to regain my strength and heal my body, but I didn’t think that it’d end up being eaten by you.

MC: That’s why you wouldn’t eat any of the fruits I plucked for you. You already had an elixir pill with you…

Something suddenly dawns on me.

MC: The legends say that elixir contains natural energy from both the sky and earth, and can speed up healing and replenish spiritual energy…

I bend down to pluck a few blades of grass, pretending I don’t pay too much mind to it.

MC: No wonder you looked down on my fruits.

Lucien only smiles, and speaks up to explain himself.

Lucien: That elixir is extremely potent. If an ordinary person eats it, they wouldn’t be able to bear the spiritual energy it holds, and might end up injured or even losing their life.

Lucien: You were lucky to survive unscathed.

MC: Ahaha… I had no idea how close I came to dying…

Lucien: However…

Lucien: The elixir you ate was spiritual energy that took three hundred years to cultivate. How do you intend on paying me back for it?

MC: What? Three… Three hundred years?!

I’m so shocked that I nearly bite my own tongue.

Lucien: Could it possibly be that you ate my elixir, and have no intentions to repay me?

I can’t help but swallow - who would have thought that because of a moment of greediness, I would end up becoming indebted like this?

With the spiritual power I have now, even if I worked for my entire life, there’s no way I would be able to make an elixir worth three hundred years of cultivation!

Upon seeing my horrified face, Lucien laughs.

Lucien: Now that I think about it, there’s nothing you have that is particularly worth much.

Lucien: However, there is something you have on you that I am very interested in.

MC: What is it?

His gaze rests on me, and he opens his mouth slowly to speak.

Lucien: I want to know what it is that makes you run headlong into danger, even when there’s nothing that would benefit you at all.

So it’s nothing too big after all. I let out a sigh of relief.

MC: Isn’t it quite simple?

MC: Because I care, because I get upset, because I can’t bear to watch something happen…

MC: People have many emotions.

MC: After all, as the Bai Ze who came down from the sky and saved humans, shouldn’t you know this already?

Lucien’s expression doesn’t change.

Lucien: When I helped the human race, it was only to maintain the natural balance among all creatures - there was no complicated personal desire that motivated me. As for the emotions you’ve mentioned…

Lucien: Although I’ve read about it in books, and witnessed it in human beings, I’ve never once experienced them for myself.

Lucien ponders this for a moment, before he looks at me and gives me a beatific smile. I, on the other hand, feel a shiver run down my back.

Lucien: If you help me experience emotion once, I’ll consider your debt repaid in full. How does that sound?

I open my mouth to reply, but take a long time to sort out my thoughts.

MC: But… why do you want to experience emotions so badly?

Lucien: Hmm, just take it as me wanting to satisfy my curiosity.

MC: But experiencing emotions isn’t something that can just happen overnight. I can’t stay by your side at all times, can I?

Lucien: Why not?

MC: Eh?

I stare with wide eyes at Lucien, but he only replies calmly.

Lucien: Your house has just been burned down. You haven’t found somewhere to stay for the time being, am I right?

MC: That’s true…

Lucien: This is good timing for me. To avoid being disturbed by other beasts and demons, I sometimes assume human form, and I just happen to lack a page to bring me tea and grind my ink.

Lucien: If you can do these well, I wouldn’t mind giving you some spiritual power.

MC: Really?!

Lucien: Absolutely.

To tell the truth, if I said that my heart wasn’t tugged just a little, I would be lying.

To be able to have a place to stay, increase my own spiritual power and be able to repay my debt all at the same time? This must be an opportunity only heaven can bestow.

It’s just that… I would have to make tea for him when he wants it, listen to his orders. There are some things I’m not quite willing to do.

While I’m struggling to make up my mind, Lucien is merely admiring the flowers at the side. From the relaxed expression on his face, he seems to already know what decision I will make. After thinking for a while, I come to a decision.

MC: Alright, I’ll do it.

Lucien: Have you thought it through?

MC: Yeah. Besides, you did save my life before. I’m not one to be ungrateful to a benefactor.

Lucien: Very well. This shall be our arrangement.

Lucien: Then, I’ll have to trouble you to teach me well.

The side of Lucien’s mouth lifts slowly into a smile, warmer than the rays of the sun that shines down from overhead, and I temporarily lose myself in it.

Suddenly, many images flash through my mind.

The first time I met him, the time when he prevented me from running into the fire, and those clear eyes.

Those placid, still eyes from before, seem to have just the slightest hint of ordinary human emotion in them now.

I wonder - once he gets to experience human emotions, what would he be like?

For whatever reason, my heart beats loudly in my ears.

I want to see his body dyed with all sorts of human emotions.

Suddenly, I feel like the days after this will be far more exciting.

I hold out my little finger towards Lucien.

MC: Since we’ve made a promise, let’s link fingers!

He looks down curiously for a moment, and links his pinky with mine.

Lucien: Mmm. It’s a promise.

Two linked pinkies, a silent vow. Lucien’s eyes curve into crescent moons as he smiles at me.

Lucien: From today on, you are to stay by my side at all times, and never be more than a step away from me.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc lucien #redqueenschoice translated this

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simplewritingtips · 5 years

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It’s Not Working: Character Troubleshooting

Welcome to It’s Not Working, a troubleshooting series that I’m uniquely qualified to run because I write things that don’t work all the time. This week, we study characters-why they don’t work, how to know, and what to do about it.

Question time

Think of a character that’s been giving you some difficulty, and answer these questions:

Are you unsure of their motivations, both scene by scene and in the whole plot?

Do they start and end with the same motivations, perspectives, personality, and outlook?

Does it feel like their lines could’ve been spoken by any other character?

Do you have trouble describing their personality, even to yourself?

If you answered yes to these questions, you may have an underdeveloped character.

Do they tend to act differently scene to scene?

Do you not know what to do with them in scenes?

Do they not have a part to play in the plot?

If you answered yes to these, you may have an unmotivated character.

Did you answer no to all of the above questions, but beta readers and critique partners are disagreeing?

Readers can’t understand their personality, motivations, or effect on the plot?

Then you may have an misrepresented character.

Why don’t they work?

Underdeveloped character: We’ve all heard of them before. They come off as bland. There’s no significant development or change to them throughout the story. Characters are your readers’ foothold into the story. If they feel like empty bottles, its going to be a lot harder for people to become invested in the plot.

Unmotivated characters lack one thing: yes, it is motivation. It’s the ultimate reason for your characters to do anything. Why do they feel like they have to save the city? Why do they get upset at that one joke? Without proper and consistent motivation, your readers are gonna get whiplash trying to figure out all the why’s of the character’s actions. And if they’re too busy worrying about that, then they’re gonna lose interest in the plot and the book as a whole.

Misrepresented characters are fully formed, at least to the author. They know everything about them, from their MBTI to the color of their second favorite rain boots. The writer has charts of how their motivations shift throughout the story, diagrams of their highs and lows, but for some reason, when readers get their hands on it, they give feed back like ‘flat’, ‘boring’, ‘generic’. Something needs to bridge that gap between the writers knowledge and what’s on the page.

The Fixes

Underdeveloped characters:

Find character questionnaires, follow character prompt blogs, take personality tests as your character. Really explore who they are as a person.

Make a chart of where they start and where they end. What happens in the plot that can significantly change them and the way they think?

Write scenes from their first person voice. Yes, even if you write in third. Write it like diary entry, write it obnoxiously first person, so first person even first person writers would cringe. Every spelling mistake you’d think they’d make, all the tangents, everything. Get a feel for the way they sound and think.

What makes them unique? What makes them so interesting that you would rather write them than a whole different character? Let this shine through.

Consider cutting them or combining them with another character if they really aren’t doing anything for your plot. I know, it hurts. You can always save pieces of them to use in another project, but sometimes it’s for the greater good.

Unmotivated characters:

Answer the questions: Why are they my main character, and why are they taking part in this plot? If you can’t answer those, then you either have the wrong main character, or the wrong plot.

Fill in this triangle and refer to them whenever you’re unsure of how they should react to something:

Write an elaborate backstory for the character. Why do they come off as stoic all the time, except when they shriek around antique dolls? There’s a story there. You don’t necessarily have to write it in the text, but the more you know about your character, the more credible these choices will feel to the reader.

Have inconsistencies addressed in the story. If they say that they don’t care about anyone on the team, and then run into a burning building to save them, it should be noted. Not necessarily flat out said, but noted.

Tone down big reactions. The wailing, screeching, jumping for joy. Some characters might do some of these things. Some might do some of them sometimes. But one character will very rarely bounce around the peak of every emotion all the time. If you do write that character, it needs to happen very intentionally.

Misrepresented character

Take a good look at the character’s introduction. Are you telling instead of showing? Is the reader distracted by larger plot things during their first scene? Do they have chances to prove their personality traits to the reader through actions or dialogue?

Can you hear them? Do they have a specific voice? Mannerisms? Quirks you can show the reader?

Are you leaving too much in subtext? I love assuming my readers will be scouring my books for clues and subtleties one day. But for major character traits, it’s better to be upfront about it. No one can assume your characters backstory out of thin air. Sometimes you have to be upfront about their motivations

Have you given an accurate, and somehow not boring, character description? If this is where you’re stuck, I understand, I’ve been there. But think of it as a chance not to list off eye color and hair length, but as a chance for each element to tell the reader something about the character. A ‘severe’ haircut gives us a different tone than ‘soft curls’. ‘Enough dirt in their nail beds to give an archaeologist chills’ give us one impression, ‘a smile that knows how high her cheekbones are’ gives us another. Play with it. Have fun.

Are you using them in each scene they’re in? Not only as an effect on the plot, but also using the scene to showcase who they are. It should be a symbiotic relationship, scenes and characters.

Some last few pieces of advice:

Don’t kill off a character or make them leave for the rest of the book because you don’t know what to do with them. If they stop having a purpose after a certain point, consider combining that purpose with a character that sticks around.

Don’t kill off a character just because you think you have to

There’s no such thing as ‘needing’ a love interest. If you have a character that is exclusively there as a love interest, they’re probably gonna come off as flat (unless it’s a straight up romance novel, in which case, have a blast).

Don’t feel like you need certain tropes. ‘Funny best friend’. ‘School bully’. ‘Evil dictator’. Don’t put them in unless they actually have something to do with the plot of your book.

We could take about characters for weeks. Months. Years. But hopefully this not so brief overview gave you some ways to rethink any problem characters you might have.

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kaylewiswrites · 5 years

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It’s Not Working: Character Troubleshooting

Question time

Think of a character that’s been giving you some difficulty, and answer these questions:

Are you unsure of their motivations, both scene by scene and in the whole plot?

Do they start and end with the same motivations, perspectives, personality, and outlook?

Does it feel like their lines could’ve been spoken by any other character?

Do you have trouble describing their personality, even to yourself?

If you answered yes to these questions, you may have an underdeveloped character.

Do they tend to act differently scene to scene?

Do you not know what to do with them in scenes?

Do they not have a part to play in the plot?

If you answered yes to these, you may have an unmotivated character.

Did you answer no to all of the above questions, but beta readers and critique partners are disagreeing?

Readers can’t understand their personality, motivations, or effect on the plot?

Then you may have an misrepresented character.

Why don’t they work?

The Fixes

Underdeveloped characters:

Find character questionnaires, follow character prompt blogs, take personality tests as your character. Really explore who they are as a person.

Make a chart of where they start and where they end. What happens in the plot that can significantly change them and the way they think?

What makes them unique? What makes them so interesting that you would rather write them than a whole different character? Let this shine through.

Unmotivated characters:

Answer the questions: Why are they my main character, and why are they taking part in this plot? If you can’t answer those, then you either have the wrong main character, or the wrong plot.

Fill in this triangle and refer to them whenever you’re unsure of how they should react to something:

Misrepresented character

Can you hear them? Do they have a specific voice? Mannerisms? Quirks you can show the reader?

Have you given an accurate, and somehow not boring, character description? If this is where you’re stuck, I understand, I’ve been there. But think of it as a chance not to list off eye color and hair length, but as a chance for each element to tell the reader something about the character. A ‘severe’ haircut gives us a different tone than ‘soft curls’. 'Enough dirt in their nail beds to give an archaeologist chills’ give us one impression, ‘a smile that knows how high her cheekbones are’ gives us another. Play with it. Have fun.

Are you using them in each scene they’re in? Not only as an effect on the plot, but also using the scene to showcase who they are. It should be a symbiotic relationship, scenes and characters.

Some last few pieces of advice:

Don’t kill off a character just because you think you have to

Don’t feel like you need certain tropes. ‘Funny best friend’. ‘School bully’. ‘Evil dictator’. Don’t put them in unless they actually have something to do with the plot of your book.

We could take about characters for weeks. Months. Years. But hopefully this not so brief overview gave you some ways to rethink any problem characters you might have.

#writing advice #writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writblr #kay's writing advice #its not working: troubleshooting for writers

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themangolorian · 4 years

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the book

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (Narcos TV show)

Tiny ficlet. One shot. Javi’s POV. Inspired by this post.

Summary: When Javi finds an old book in an empty office, he cannot get his mind off the woman who poured her heart into the spaces between the words. The only problem is he has no idea who she is.

Javi had found the book in an empty office. He’d gone in to clear his head. To get away from the ruckus and noise of the space he had to share with everyone else. The office had been blessedly quiet. He’d been sitting with his head between his hands, and when he’d finally lifted his gaze, it had been there. Haphazardly laying on the corner of the desk as if waiting for him. Brown leather bound. The corners were worn, the pages yellowed with use and time.

Warily and needing something to clear his mind, he’d reached over casually to flip it open, unaware that action would unforeseeably change his life. Cien años de soledad. Not out of the ordinary, though its casing was. Javi had read it once, before moving to Colombia. He shuffled through the pages. It was a good book, but he had so little time left in his life for fiction.

Just as he was about to shut the cover of the book, something handwritten within the pages caught his eye. But he’d lost the page. He began leafing through the pages to see what someone had thought important enough to write in a book. Javi had never understood the point of doing something like that when one’s thoughts while reading could easily be kept in one’s head. But he was curious anyway.

As he thumbed through the pages, he realized there were handwritten notes in several places throughout the book. In a cramped but neat script. He had to squint to read them.

this is not how I would react to a ghost - next to what he supposed was a crude drawing of a smiling apparition. The corner of his mouth turned up. He flipped the page almost carefully now.

well...i dream of peace. everywhere in colombia. but mostly on this mess of a base. Javi smiled fully now.

Flipping through the pages, he found various personal and funny tidbits, commentaries on the story. So many phrases in the book were underlined. And drawings. Yellow butterflies. A calf-like beast. Flowers. So many flowers, some described within the book, some clearly made up in someone’s imagination. He began to wonder who on base could possibly be funny enough to talk like this. Based on the handwriting itself, and a few of the more telling comments, he knew it was a woman. But he scoured the pages between each flap of the book and could not find a name. Every thought imaginable seemed caught in the neat handwriting. Everything but her name.

Javi sighed and let the cover fall shut. He contemplated. Looked around the office. Noted the dust on every surface. He stood and tucked the book under his arm before thinking too hard about it.

In the weeks that followed, Javi began to find solace in the worn, obviously well-loved pages of the novel. Whoever had written these words was obviously snarky, maybe sassy, but she loved the story all the same. It was clear in her notes. Javi never actually re-read the book itself. Only the passages that would help him understand the noteleaver’s quips.

“What’re you reading there?” Steve called his way from the bunk as Javi traced the words of another note he’d only just found. He’d been sure he’d read them all, but this one was new to him, hidden between the many pages of the novel.

this is why we shouldn’t let tourists in

He’d been pleasantly surprised to find a note he’d not yet read and had accidentally chuckled out loud. But he closed the book with an air of having been caught when Steve spoke.

“Nothing,” he had to clear his throat, voice hoarse from disuse. The ambassador had forbade them from leaving the grounds, and they were growing listless in their boredom.

Steve glanced over. “Doesn’t look like nothing.” But he went back to cleaning his gun all the same, leaving Javi to wonder.

Javi stared at the book. He wondered who it had belonged to and why it had been abandoned in the middle of a dusty office. Briefly he wondered if its owner had died, and the thought panged his heart, though he could not say why. He shook his head at himself and tucked the book under his bunk so he could nap.

Because there was so little to do for the time being, Javi began carrying the book around. Both to read it...well, its previous owner’s notes. And to, if he was being honest with himself, maybe run into the person it belonged to. Though, at this point, he thought he’d be loath to part with it.

But...he’d begun to start thinking too hard about the writer of the handwritten notes which, by now, he’d come to memorize. He didn’t know what it was about her words that seemed to captivate him so. She was funny. Thoughtful. Romantic, at least in the sense of the book. Maybe practical. He felt like he’d gotten to know someone deeply, someone he couldn’t put a face to. And for Javi, that was endlessly frustrating.

As he sat in the mess next to Steve to eat lunch, he placed the book on the table just across from them. Steve had finally stopped asking about the book when Javier had shown him the first page, clearly stating its title.

“Can’t get your nose out of that,” he’d noted in his plainly straightforward way. But he hadn’t brought it up again, though sometimes Javi saw the way Steve’s brow would arch his way when he’d open it yet again.

Now, Javi perused the surrounding tables and the others milling about, wondering if any of them might be the person he was looking for. There weren’t many women on base other than the ambassador. There was her secretary, an older prudish type. He didn’t think it could be her considering she seemed to have no sense of humor. There were a handful of others and though Javi’s eyes lingered on them, he didn’t think it could be any one of them either. For one wild moment, he wondered if it could be the ambassador’s. But he shook his head at the thought, smiling.

“What?” Steve wondered through a mouthful of lechona.

But before Javi could respond, a hand was reaching out and picking up the book. Javi had to stop himself from reaching over automatically to stop-

Her. Javi had forgotten all about her.

“Here it is,” she was saying, sounding breathless with relief.

Her eyelashes were lowered against her cheeks in a lovely way as she gazed at the book with clear affection. She still had not seemed to have noticed Javi and Steve sitting there.

She was a researcher the ambassador had hired to help the DEA in their years-long mission to capture Escobar. Javi hadn’t realized she’d been staying on base. He’d only ever seen her once here. And that had been before everything had gone to shit. He’d never spoken to her long enough to get to know her, but she was pretty. Beautiful, really. And he remembered her laugh. He’d done something silly, accidentally tripped or something, and her laugh had been infectious. Had anyone else laughed, Steve maybe, Javi might have gotten irritated. But her laugh had brought a smile to his face.

“Con cuidado” she’d lilted at him before going the opposite way, her eyes still laughing.

“I’ve been looking for this,” she finally caught Javi’s eyes. She must’ve been wondering why he’d been staring at her. Smiling. How did she do that with her eyes? Always smiling.

When Javi didn’t respond, the corners of her mouth turned up now into an uncertain smile without diminishing the bright one remaining in her eyes. Maybe she thought they thought she’d interrupted them. “Well, enjoy your lunch.” She turned to walk towards the food counter, tucking her long lost, now found, book under her arm.

Javi only hesitated for a second, his mind racing, before he stood up and followed after her, rushing to find the right words to express that he’d read every single note she’d left in a decade-old novel he’d found in an empty office, and now he was sure he was in love with her.

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he watched his partner’s retreating back. “What in Sam Hill was that about?” He drawled before reaching over and picking the lone buñeulo off Javi’s tray.

A/N: For the record, I’m one of those people who writes in their books and underlines incessantly. I know some ppl consider that sacrilege but it’s how I show my love! 🥰

Forever Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed!): @lesqui @murdermewithbooks @beskars @rosetophighlander @dyn-djarin @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @hiscyarika @watsonwise @lavenderl3mons @scarlettwitcher @adlerorzel-blog @tiffdawg

masterlist

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña imagine #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #javi #narcos colombia #narcos netflix #pedro pascal #one shot #my writing #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena imagine #javi x reader #javi x you #javi imagine #self insert #masterlist

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thewildwaffle · 4 years

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Kidnapped Rival

So I’ve posted this Transformers au fic on Ao3 and have been writing it since Feb of last year ever since I saw an anonymous post on @zenxenophilia‘s blog. I finally finished it, over a year and a half later.

You can read it here on Ao3, and I’ll also post the story here

Original post - submitted to Zenxenophilia on tumblr by anonymous: ***** ***** ***** Imagine a human on Optimus’ team. Optimus practically treats them like a sparkling, Ratchet is their grandpa and Bee and Arcee are like siblings. This human wants to fight in the war. For earth, for humans, for their family. Of course, Cybertron’s atmosphere is dangerous to humans making it difficult for the human to get involved. After begging and pleading to Optimus the human is put under extensive training with self defense and handling a weapon (thanks to Bee and Arcee). The human is outfitted with a mech suit disguised as a cybertronian. Even inside the mech the human has an armored space suit along with a blaster that can filter oxygen out of Cybertron's atmosphere just in case the mech were to break. It doesn’t take long for the human to climb the ranks(being the ‘child’ of Optimus helps a lot). The human uses a Cybertronian persona. Later they go out to the Cybertronian battlefields. This is where they meet Deadlock, Megatron’s maddog, the one responsible for so many deaths to the human’s friends. The Human quickly becomes Deadlocks rival, able to counter all his attacks and save Autobots from his clutches. After a while Deadlock develops a strange liking to the 'mech’, he seems to almost enjoy seeing them on the battlefield. One fateful day the Human and Deadlock run into each other on the battlefield, it’s just the two of them. Deadlock has trained a lot more after the first few encounters with the 'mech’ and the 'mech’ sadly couldn’t keep up, however, it didn’t stop them from doing a number on Deadlock. Deadlock is smart, he makes sure to damage the mech’s legs to most so they can’t run anywhere. The one thing that he enjoys about fighting the 'mech’ is that they don’t seem to feel pain. The mech can no longer stand up or move, it’s stuck. Deadlock oddly enough doesn’t kill them.

“You would make a great Decepticon”. … W-What? Was that an offer? Oh hell no! The Human would never join this monster after all he’s done to their friends! The Human gets out of their mech, much to Deadlocks surprise. What a lovely twist! The Human uses their blaster to keep damaging Deadlock, ducking for cover. Even out of their mech they were a threat to any Cybertronian, however, they weren’t as fast as one. Deadlock didn’t use his weapons, that would make it too easy, instead, he scoops the Human up ignoring the humans screams. He takes away their weapons and destroys their commlink. “Well well well. Who would have known? This explains a lot…” Deadlock forces the human to look up at him. His little obsession, his rival, was an organic… and a pretty cute one too!(Though he’ll never admit it) The Human struggles in his grip. “Now now. I don’t think you should do that” His grip tightens around the Human. 'It would be a shame if your armor were t’ break…’ the human stiffens, without the armor they would suffocate. “Heh.. I think I’m gonna keep you for a long while friend…” Deadlock keeps his rival on him at all times at the Decepticon base. No one is allowed to touch them but him. Most Decepticons see the Human as a living trophy to Deadlock, a pet, not knowing of Deadlock’s obsessive desires. Megatron is quite surprised by Deadlock's new pet. Megatron knew the mech that the human-piloted was Optimus’ favorite bot, not only would the Human be a good bargaining chip, but they probably know all the Autobots' little secrets. Megatron will let Deadlock do whatever he wants to do with the Human for now, after all, he earned it. Deadlock was happy with this. Meanwhile back at the Autobot base, Optimus is filled with grief. His precious human, his child, gone without a trace. He didn’t know if they were dead or not, Optimus sends out search parties for them, he regrets letting them in this war, they were too young. Ratchet is constantly checking for signals in his free time, for any sign that they were alive. Bumblebee goes quiet for a long time. He knows his sibling HAS to be alive! They have to be! They don’t die easily. He tries scout on more missions so he can find them. Arcee is filled with rage. That was her precious little sibling. Her anger is taken out on the battlefield. She questions any con she can for a sign of the human. She’s always training always, looking, always holding back her grief and the ideas that her sibling could be dead or tortured. No one has ever seen her like this. The human's disappearance is hard on everyone. That kid would constantly befriend and check up with everyone they saw, they were kind, helpful, and eager to learn. It’s dull without them at the base. They’re not there to tell Prowl to stop overworking himself. They aren’t there to help Wheeljack or Percy with their experiments. They aren’t there to jam out with Jazz or Blaster or to talk to and check up with everyone in the base. No one to listen to Ironhide's or Kup's stories. No one to complement Sunstreaker and play with Sideswipe. Everyone is heartbroken. This base isn’t a base without the kid running around. They can only hope that the human is still alive. The Decepticon base is another story. The human is filled with information about the Autobots, with the human on their side the war is in the bag. They have coordinates and information on practically every bot in the base and maybe… with a bit of mnemosurgey they could be an excellent Decepticon. The human is fine. They’re patient. They’re smart, they know how to play their cards, (Perceptor and Wheeljack taught them) they just have to play along with Deadlock and the cons for now. Hopefully, the Human can escape or pray that Optimus will find them. And hopefully, Deadlock has mercy on them.

***** ****** *****

My adding to the story:

The room was filtered, much like the human’s armored spacesuit had been. The entire Decepticon base was, not that the human had spent much time outside their room. When they did leave the room, it was for “questioning.” And it was always accompanied by Deadlock. Usually being carried by Deadlock. Actually, always carried by Deadlock. He said it was because he didn't want his human to get lost or crushed under the peds of a careless con. Really, it was to feel their rival squirm in his tight grip. Megatron had been present for a few of the first interrogations, but other duties or battles made his presence less and less frequent, which was fine by the human. As far as they were concerned, there were more than enough Decepticons around as it was. Using techniques Wheeljack had taught them, they “gave up” the info the cons wanted, just not all of it. It was just enough to keep the Decepticons from getting suspicious, get them to believe that the information that they pulled from Deadlock’s new pet was indeed genuine, but not enough info, they hoped, to really cause too much damage to the Autobots. The human needed to find a way out of this nightmare before the Decepticons caught on to what they were doing. Or before they gave up info that could actually do damage to the Autobots. It was getting harder and harder to keep the vital info they held away from their more sadistic interrogators.

The human loses track of time since being captured. Deadlock had taken their armored space suit soon after bringing them here. “No need for it here, little friend.” His sinister smile always made the human uneasy, but he just laughed at their rival’s defiant expression, putting the suit away in his subspace and leaving for another mission, making sure to lock the door behind him. When the human had time alone in the room, they scoured every inch for some means of escape. The vents looked promising, but getting to them would be difficult, even if they scaled the height of the berth or the desk, they were too short to reach. They need a better plan.

Meanwhile, the searches Optimus organized finally turned up something. If it's a good something or not has yet to be decided. It was Bumblebee who found it- the mech suit the human had been piloting when they went missing. He brought it back to base and everyone nearly lost their minds! The human, their human, without their protective mech suit?! Their armor they wore underneath was not found though, did that mean they had it and were still alive? The mech was severely damaged, they must have tried to run on foot and been captured. But by whom? And were they still alive now? Hopefully Perceptor would be able to find out something from the damaged mech to get some clue to the human’s location.

For the human, however, thoughts of being rescued seemed to be little more than a hopeful wish. Deadlock did his best to make sure that any such wish seemed less and less likely. “They’ll never find you,” he tells them. “They've given up looking for you long ago.” Or “Even if they did find out you were still alive, what makes you think they'll want you after what you've done? It was your information that lead us to victory in the Cronus Plains. How many of them did we kill because of you?” Deadlock took great pleasure in seeing his rival’s reaction to this. He smiled, knowing he could break his once-mortal-enemy both mentally as well as physically. Lifting their chin with one sharp finger he cooed, “I told you before, you'd make a good Decepticon. It seems I was right.” He moves closer, a dangerous, hungry gleam flashed in his optics. As Deadlock took a step forward, the human took two steps back. Deadlock chuckled and used mass-displacement to shrink down to just taller than the human. The human dodges his reach and turns and runs towards the berth to hide. Such a tactic seemed childish, and was doomed to fail, but it was better than doing nothing, it was some show of resistance. Deadlock was a lot… “touchier”... when he was this size, simply because it was easier to be so when the risk of crushing the object of his obsession was so much lessened. He grabbed the human by the shoulders and pulled them closer to him. “You're tense,” he murmurs, running one servo down their back. “Let me put you more at ease, my pet.” While still holding them so they couldn't get away, Deadlock stroked and prodded, massaging knots in their back and expertly melted the struggling human in his grasp. The human felt both frustrated by how effectively they'd been incapacitated, and blissfully relaxed as the tension they'd been carrying fell away. With what mental capacities they had left, the human willed themselves to make sure they made no moans or hums that would betray their pleasure to the Decepticon. After few minutes, Deadlock’s servos paused. He turned the human around to face him, holding them close and tight to his chassis. “There now, better?” One servo traveled down the small of the human’s back. The human didn't respond. Oh they wished they could be anywhere but here! They thought of the Autobot base, of their friends, of the bots that had become their family. Could what Deadlock said earlier be true? Had they given up looking for them? Did they blame them for giving up information? They must. The human sure did. As much as they tried to stop it from happening, the human let out a sob. Just the one, but it was one too many.

“There, there, none of that now,” rumbled Deadlock, “What's there to cry about? I've kept you alive. I've taken care of you. I will make sure no one dares harm you. You're one of us now.” He paused, his red optics glowing brighter. “You're mine.” He leaned forward, crushing his lips into the human’s. So taken by surprise, the human tried yelling out, which only made Deadlock squeeze them tighter in his arms, his glossa filling their opened mouth. The human struggled against his grip, but it was quickly obvious that they weren't going anywhere. As Deadlock’s servos traveled across their body, an idea of a plan came into their mind. It was a dangerous idea. It was an incredibly stupid idea, but maybe it was stupid enough to work. Instead of fighting against him, the human pushed into the kiss. Slowly, carefully, they loosed one arm and reached around to Deadlock’s neck, stroking the sensitive cables. He shivered delightedly as his cooling fans kicked on. After another moment, the human slid their other hand slowly up his chassis to where they'd seen their space suit stored away before. Lights all across Deadlock's body flickered. He reached one arm out to the berth to try to lift them both up onto it.

It was quick, before Deadlock could process what happened, the human pulled themselves away from him, opened his subspace compartment, yanked their suit out, and with one steady movement they had learned from Arcee, wrenched his arm behind his back and pinned him face down into the ground. Hard into the ground. They hoped that would be enough to keep their captor stunned long enough to get a good head start. They jumped up and ran to the door. If they could make it to the hallway and find a hiding spot, they could get their suit on and sneak out of the Decepticon base. They'd be free! The door was not locked, but it was closed and very heavy. They had only managed to crack it open when Deadlock began picking himself up off of the floor. Well, there went their head start. The human gave the door one last shove with their shoulder and started squeezing through. They were just about out when the door completely opened, sending them tumbling to the floor. Deadlock, now returned to his full size, reached down, scooped them up, and tossed them back into the room, sending them rolling across the floor. The door shut again with a loud metallic thud, followed by a click indicating that it was now locked. “I must admit, you're very good.” Deadlock's voice was dangerously calm, he almost seemed amused. “I've always known you were, the first time I saw you on the battlefield, I found you to be exceptional. A challenge for me after so many boring victories. Where was that again- our first? It's been a while, hasn't it?” He picked up the human again, who groaned at the movement of their bruised body. “Was… it was just outside... Simfur,” the human gasped, still trying to catch their breath after having it knocked out of them by the throw. “I must say... your hand-to-hand combat... hasn't improved much since then. I don't even need my mech suit to take you.” Now was certainly not the best time to sass-mouth a psychopathic killer robot, but the human was beyond caring. Deadlock only chuckled and held them close, pinning them to him so they couldn't move. “That may be. I've found I've always done well enough with my weapons though.” He began stroking the human's back absent-mindedly as he sat down on the berth. “Perhaps with a bit of mnemosurgery, you'd be more willing to stick around and give me some pointers.” The human's voice was a bit muddled y Deadlock's hold, but they said something along the lines of “like hell I will.” Deadlock mused to himself about future days with his then-compliant human, smiling at all the implications that shadowplay could bring. “It will be interesting to see how well mnemosurgery works on an organic, but I'm sure it will do wonders.” With the adrenaline of their failed escape attempt fading, and warm living metal surrounding them, the human felt exhaustion creeping in. Before they completely slipped away, they thought of Optimus and for a moment, they were back at the base, surrounded by the Autobots. Would they ever train with Bumblebee and Arcee again? Would they ever help Sunstreaker feed Bob again? Ever listen to another story from Ironhide, only to be interrupted by Kupp who told them ’how it really happened?’ They hoped so. They hoped the Autobots still wanted them back. “I’m sorry” they muttered as sleep finally overtook them.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Deadlock had been watching intently from the moment the mnemosurgeon entered the room. He was tense and anxious about what was going to happen, but inwardly giddy at the prospects a successful outcome could bring. Thinking back, it had been rather easy to convince Lord Megatron about going through with the procedure. Granted, Deadlock had kept all reasoning points to how it could help scrape out any remaining info the human had been resiliently holding back, further the Decepticon cause, and provide a severe blow to Optimus and his Autobots when they found out what had happened to their small, spunky, cute, soft… Deadlock shook his head ever so slightly. His mind was wandering again. It did that fairly often when he thought of his little rival. He watched as the mnemosurgeon inserted his needles to the base of their head. It was only two needles, and they couldn't be fully extended. As had been explained to him, mnemosurgeon was possible on organic life, but the process was different, and the results, varied. Instead of direct manipulation of memories as without on a cybertronian, organic life had to be done indirectly, usually through the twists and turns of emotions. Brains and processors, while shockingly similar, had their own operating systems, so to speak. The translation of mnemosurgery to an organic brain was difficult. It had been difficult to find someone capable of doing such a feat. Harder still, one willing to do it for him. Just in case the difficult and dangerous operation went awry, few wanted to run the risk of telling Deadlock they'd turned his little pet into a braindead bag of flesh. But he'd found one. A small lanky bot who went by the name Trepan. He seemed confident in his abilities and didn't even bat an optic when Deadlock added a bit more to his task. He was to not only seek out info, as he had told Megatron the purpose of this was, but he also wanted a few alterations. Nothing big, just a nudge, really. His little human, his little rival was still fighting him. They just needed a little mental persuasion to be sure that in the end, Deadlock won their little game.

It felt… weird. Were you floating? Were you sitting? Did it even matter? If this was weird, then what was normal? You couldn't think of the answer. Should that trouble you? You weren't sure. There was a voice that seemed to say it was fine. Well, it wasn't a voice so much as an idea. Basically, it said everything was alright, or more, the "voice" felt like everything was alright. Everything was according to plan. What plan? Was there a plan? Had you forgotten to do something for it? No, the voice that wasn't a voice came again, everything was fine, perfectly fine, just be calm. Oh, calm. That sounded nice. You hadn't really been calm for a long time. Not since before the battle with Deadlock, back when you were with the Autobots and, and… wait, what was the beginning of that thought? Calm. Oh yes, calm. You'd been calm for so long, you were the master at calm. How long had you been calm? Always. Oh, ok. That sounds nice, being calm is nice. Something seemed to nag in the back of your mind, something you were worried about, or should be worried about. What was it again? Is it about Deadlock?- the voice seemed to question sweetly. Uhhh, yes. Yes, it probably was. Why worry about him? He was perfectly fine. He can handle himself. No, not worried like that, it was more like… like… Why worry about him at all? Because, you thought. Because of what he's done. The battle- he took- The training- the voice corrected almost as instantaneously as you thought each word. He saved- The training where we fought. He saved me and took me back to base. I've been trying to get away. I have to get back, everyone's probably so worried. Oh, how did this line of thought start? Go back. Deadlock. He saved me during training and I've been trying to do something ever since. Do what? What was I doing? Uhhh… escape?- Leave, the word was replaced almost seamlessly again. Why leave? Deadlock would be so worried about you. You wouldn't want that. Oh, no, I guess not, right? Was that why I was worried about Deadlock earlier? Yeah, probably. He will be so worried when I'm gone. Then why go? He wants to take care of you, you need to be taken care of. Oh, yes. That was a good point. Cybertron wasn't exactly kind on humans. You needed help for sure. And if that help came from Deadlock, well then- But something still nagged in the back of your mind. Something? A couple of things? What were they? Did it matter? Did the somethings matter? What did matter? Deadlock. That's what mattered. And you mattered to him. In fact, you mattered so much to him that he was taking care of you. Oh, that's nice of him. Yes, very nice. You have nothing to be worried about with him around. It's easy to be calm around him. Yeah, it is. Very easy. Especially when he holds me...

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Red Alert had checked the readouts. Had double checked them. Triple checked them. He had to be sure before he told anyone else. There'd been a pattern with the past few battles with the Decepticons. A mis-step on their part here, late arrivals and backups, tactical errors that seemed out of place of their usual methods. Yes, the Decepticons had won several important victories lately, but there was something off. It was like someone was feeding them misinformation and half-truths. The timing was too much to be a coincidence. Good thing that Red Alert didn’t believe in coincidences. The human, their human- was alive. And they were being held captive and questioned by the Decepticons. It took a bit of investigating. Red Alert felt confident enough to bring his discovery to Prime. He had to be sure. At the same time, he knew he had to make sure he had to hurry. Who knew how much longer the human would last with the Deceptions! By the time Optimus returned to base later that day, Red Alert and more than half the team were there waiting. "What's all this? What's going on?" Red Alert without a moment of hesitation handed Prime the datapad. “Sir, we have reason to believe that we know where (name) is being kept.” *** The human woke up wrapped in Deadlock’s arms. He was still in recharge from the even sounds of his air intake. They looked drearily up at his face. It was rare to see him look so calm. As they slowly became fully awake, they pulled as much of the soft blankets they could reach more tightly around them. They couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. They frowned. What a way to wake up! But what? Was it because of Deadlock’s latest mission assignments? He often had to leave to fight or to do tasks given to him by Megatron. They were usually very dangerous and the human would hold his arm tightly in worry when he would return and recount his day to them. Were they worried about Deadlock getting hurt, or worse yet, not coming back at all? Well, yes, of course. Especially with this latest mission. But was that really the reason behind this guttural feeling of dread. They were anxious, like they had to act and act now before it was too late! What were they supposed to do?! They tried getting up without disturbing Deadlock. Something was wrong, but what could it possibly be? The human's breathing started to become frantic. It felt stuffy in the room. They wished they could go outside. Or well, maybe not outside on Cybertron, that would be deadly without their suit. It felt like every cell of their body was craving the feel of unfiltered sunshine. Their lungs yearned for even a whiff of fresh air. Walking on soft grass? Yes please. Digging through rich, organic-filled soil? It was like part of their soul hungered desperately for it. They tried to remember the last time they’d felt any of that back on Earth. They had taken it for granted then, not realizing how much they’d miss it when they went to Cybertron to join the Autobots. They’d been too full of righteous anger then, wanting vengeance for their losses, hoping to help end the war sooner in any way they could. They didn’t realize how much they’d miss… Their heart froze in their chest. Autobots? When they’d left Earth, they’d gone to join the... Autobots? That couldn’t be right? That didn’t make sense! The more they thought about it, the more their memories started to make less and less sense. The Autobots were their enemy. Right? But then why were there memories of Optimus Prime giving them a tour of the Autobot base? Why had they gone on a joyride with Sideswipe? Hound had shown them some Cybertronian vegetation samples he had been preserving throughout the war. Arcee and Chromia had helped them translate their fighting moves to combat while in a battle suit. They nearly gasped in shock as feelings of guilt and grief flooded their brain. Why were they feeling this? Why did they miss them? Where were these memories coming from? Recoiling, they searched their mind. Deadlock had met them on Earth, had saved them from an Autobot attack? They frowned. That memory felt so colorless and hollow compared to the new ones they’d discovered, but they continued. They’d begged Deadlock to let them come with him to Cybertron. He’d trained them to fight. Shockwave built the battle suit which was destroyed. It was a close call, but they’d survived. Deadlock hadn’t let them leave the Decepticon Base since, too worried about their safety. That… that was there. In their mind. Images of memories were there, acting as evidence of their validity. But… the more they were examined, the more things started falling apart. Cracks started forming in the memories, like dried paint on a balloon when you inflate it, or puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together. And like a mis-matched puzzle, the whole image was starting to make less and less sense the more they thought about it. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Despite the human’s efforts to remain still and calm, Deadlock started stirring. His optics came back online and their red light spilled down onto the smaller human. “You’re awake early today,” he commented in a deep, still somewhat sleepy voice. “How did you sleep?” "Fine," they muttered stiffly. Deadlock pulled them in tightly, his lips resting against the shell of their ear. "Mmmmmmhmmmmm. Something is troubling you," he paused as if waiting for a response. When none came, he turned the human around to face them. "What’s wrong? Tell me.” He paused again, but there was only silence. “How can I fix what’s troubling you if you don't tell me?” The human frowned, conflicted about what to say, or if they should say anything at all. They gave in as Deadlock’s grip began getting unbearably tight. “How long have I been here?” The grip became significantly more loose as Deadlock’s expression changed to a mix of surprise and confusion. “What was that?” “How… how long have I been here,” they ask again, their confidence waxing a bit stronger as they seemed to find their voice. “What have I done?” The human could feel Deadlock tense at the question for just an instant before he relaxed again and responded in a dangerously sweet tone, "What kind of question is that? Where is all this coming from?" The human had enough sense to know that telling the truth about these new and confusing memories would only make trouble. If they were false, then it would only upset Deadlock unnecessarily. If they were true... well, they weren’t sure what that would mean just yet, but it definitely wasn’t good. In the meantime, they had to think of something to say. Deadlock’s red eyes were burning into their own. Thinking on the spot, they came up with what they could and told a half-truth. “I had… a strange dream. I don’t know if it was a nightmare or not, it just… it was… strange.” “Strange? How so?” The human panicked a bit, but kept their cool. That’s what Wheeljack had taught them before right? Wait, right? Uh, well that was kind of the question and problem right now. They had to come up with something to say and quick, so they continued on with the half-truths. “I think I just miss Earth. I was dreaming about it, and then I was here with you on Cybertron, but I was also with the Autobots? But we weren’t fighting. And then Megatron was there and he was really happy about something and…” The human looked up at Deadlock with the most innocent puppy dog eyes they could muster, “I’m sorry, I know that all sounds silly. Dreams don’t always make sense though, especially when you try to explain them out lou-” Deadlock swore violently as he got up from the berth and returned to his full size. The human sat, dazed and confused as Deadlock stomped toward the door. Before he reached it, he turned back to the human. “You’re sure you were dreaming about the Autobots?” His voice was icy and sent shivers down the human’s spine. They silently nodded, still a bit in shock. With a low growl, Deadlock turned back to the door and stomped out, leaving the human locked and alone in the room. “Well,” they said aloud to themselves, “that was odd.” Odd, and terrifying. It didn’t seem to match their memories of Deadlock, or… no. No it did. Dual images of Deadlock existed. A soft, caring bot who loved them and let them stay with him while on Cybertron was mirrored by a vicious and cruel mech who had fought and captured them and now kept them here as a trophy and play-thing. But which one was real? Why were there conflicting memories in their head? The human pulled their legs in close to the rest of their body and took a deep breath in an attempt to clear their mind. They had to figure this out. They had to get to the bottom of this. What was the truth? ---- Deadlock stomped down the hall, sending lower-ranking cons scurrying out of his way as he passed. They knew better than to be in range of the mech when fury roiled in his EM field like that, it was not a safe place to be at all. He paid them no mind though. There was only one bot that needed to watch out for his wrath right now. They weren’t on base now, but as soon as Deadlock got his claws into Trepan, he was going to pay dearly. Then he was going to address and fix the spots he missed in his dear little rival’s memories, before this all got out of servo.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

The human had been sitting in silence for, well, they weren’t sure how long. In the hours of his absence, they used Deadlock’s absence to review their memories in peace. They paced until their legs were tired. They sat to think before they grew too restless and began pacing again. How could they remember being with the Autobots and leaving Earth with Deadlock at the same time? That was impossible. Something was wrong. What was real? What was fake? Why were there fake memories in their head? Their feelings up to this point, about the Decepticons, about… about Deadlock… were those even real? Their chest felt tight as they began hyperventilating. What had happened -really happened? Why were they like this?!? They were trying to fight back tears as they searched through confusing memories when the door opened. The human glanced up apprehensively. Deadlock? They weren’t sure they were ready to face him right now. Not like this. For better or for worse, it wasn’t Deadlock. It was… it was Frenzy. The Casseticon’s silhouette was harshly lit from behind. The human stared silently, frozen in place as Frenzy stepped to the berth and pulled them up and along behind him roughly. “Looks like Deadlock’s gone off on one of his little jaunts. Humph. Just ‘cuz he’s Megatron’s favorite, he can do whatever he wants, go wherever he wants,” he looked back at the human, “take whatever he wants.” “What are you doing?” The human’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “More than what I signed up for today, that’s what,” was the gruff reply they got. Frenzy was a little more than a foot taller than they were and it was easy for him to drag the human along out the door. The relative safety of the room now gone, the human’s heart rate spiked even further. They’d left the room before. Plenty of times. But almost always with Deadlock. And definitely always not in the middle of some mental breakdown or memory mishap, or whatever the heck was going on with them! Primal fear stabbed through their stomach while at the same time, flaking memories surfaced in her mind of Deadlock telling them they’d always be safe with the Decepticons. Frenzy seemed oblivious to the mental war raging in the organic creature in his servo. He was much too focused grumbling about Deadlock’s sudden disappearance and having to cover his extra duties. “Now I get to haul you to Shockwave’s lab on top of everything else. If I were to just not show up for something, I’d never hear the end of it! Or rather, I would, right after I was put offline. But no, Deadlock can do whatever he wants whenever he wants because he’s Megatron’s little-” A loud alarm cut the disgruntled Decepticon off. He paused and looked around and tensed, then growled as he received orders over his comm. “Yeah I got the fleshie now… but I… but boss!.... Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m going.” “Wh-what’s going on?” “Nonaya business, we’re just gonna have ta make a detour is all,” Frenzy started quickly down a corridor, nearly pulling the human’s arm out of their socket, grumbling as they struggled to keep pace. It was all they could do to avoid being dragged along behind the casseticon. Their mind raced as they tried to figure out what the heck was going on! Frenzy swore as the pair came around the corner. Two Autobots nearly ran into them, but one of them was able to jump out of the way to avoid a collision. The second smaller bot wasn’t quite as quick on his peds. The human nearly had the air knocked out of them as they crashed into the bright yellow of his chassis. “(Name)?!” The human looked up. Bumblebee? And the other… Sunstreaker? Almost immediately, a swirl of double memories assaulted their mind, laughing with Bumblebee while pulling a prank at base, helping Sunstreaker buff out some scratches after a battle with the Decepticons, dodging a blast from Bumblebee on the battlefield, hiding under debris while they prepared for a counterattack… wait, no, that hadn’t been Bumblebee, it was… it was Deadlock? Wait, what? Their stomach turned. With a screech of metal, Frenzy grabbed the slightly larger Bumblebee by the arm and swung him into Sunstreaker. Before either could recover, the casseticon ran and reached out for the human again. Just before he could grab them, a small, multi-limbed something jumped and struck him sideways. “Good boy Bob!” Sunstreaker cheered as he scooped up the small insecticon. Before the human could register what was going on, they were swept off their feet by Bumblebee who led Sunstreaker and Bob back down the corridor they came from. “No! Let me go!” the human screamed. They weren’t sure what was going on anymore and all they wanted was just a few moments to try to process what was going on and what was wrong with them. “(Name)?” Bumblebee's voice sounded shocked and worried. “(Name), it’s me, it’s, it’s us. We’re your friends, we’re here to rescue you.” he glanced back to Sunstreaker who in turn looked back briefly at where they had left Frenzy behind. For a moment, it looked like he might go back and take a few extra shots at the small Decepticon. “What have those fraggin’ cons done to them?” With a kick and a struggle, the human squirmed out of Bumblebee’s grip and bolted. They didn’t know where. All they knew was they had to find somewhere, anywhere to think. “(Name)! Come back! Please!” The human stumbled a bit. Please? Since when did Autobots say please? Or, wait, no. No. Autobots… when did Decepticons say please? When had Deadlock ever said… From behind, the human saw Bumblebee, no Deadlock, no Bumblebee reaching out to them again. Past images flashed of Bumblebee reaching out to grab them, taking them away from the battlefield, no, away from their home on Earth? What was true anymore?! They grabbed their head as if that would help clear things. Not clearly watching where they were going, they tripped and rolled to a stop. “What did you do, drop them?” Sunstreaker ran up to help. With a loud clang, he was knocked back by a newcomer behind the human. “Autobot scum,” a familiar voice growled. The human’s spine tingled. Was that fear? But why? The human turned their head to see Deadlock look down and lock his glowing red eyes on them. “(Name), what are you doing out here?” he nearly snarled. He reached down toward them. As he reached, time seemed to slow down as the action sparked a surge of memories. On the battlefield, escaping a broken mech suit and running, doing their best to fight back while attempting to retreat, getting grabbed by Deadlock, the feeling of helplessness as they were carried off. The human’s eyes widened. These memories felt different than the others. This one felt whole and clear- like the others were glitching and foggy by comparison. They may not be sure what the heck was going on, but they knew one thing: Deadlock would not catch them again. They rolled and were on their feet with the speed that only comes from training. More clear memories surfaced: training with Arcee on evasive maneuvers, the Autobot base, the battlefield the day they’d been captured as they’d attempted to dodge Deadlock’s grasp. A wave of resolve filled the human. These memories were true. They clung to them desperately as they dove away from Deadlock’s reach. No sooner had they cleared the Decepticon’s outstretched hand that Bumblebee tackled him. The two tumbled back and Bumblebee kept his hits coming, trying to prevent Deadlock from being able to draw his weapons. The human nearly lept as Sunstreaker approached, crouching down to their level. The only thing that kept them from running was the fact that they were fighting against Deadlock. That was enough to hesitantly side with them for the moment. “(Name), it’s okay, we’re going to get you out of here.” Sunstreaker glanced up at his fellow yellow Autobot, now struggling to keep Deadlock occupied. He activated his comm. “Prime, we found them! We’ve got company though. Requesting backup.” Before he could end the transmission, Deadlock had managed to throw Bumblebee off of him. The minibot hit and rolled, leaving scrapes of paint and scratches in the floor behind him. As Deadlock reached to pull his guns, Sunstreaker blasted him in the shoulder. The con toppled back, crashing against the wall and dropping one of his blasters. Sunstreaker jumped up, pulling his arm for a punch. Before it could connect however, Deadlock’s hands shot out and stopped the oncoming attack. Sunstreaker cried out as Deadlock squeezed the Autobot’s fist in his larger hand and rose to his feet slowly. Sunstreaker threw a punch with his other hand, which connected with Deadlock’s face and caused him to stumble. With a terrifying growl, the larger con pulled Sunstreaker back with him, caught their fall with a sweep of his legs, and jolted forward to crash his helm into Sunstreaker’s face. Before the injured Autobot could hit the ground, the human had scampered to Deadlock’s fallen weapon. The gun was nearly as large as they were, but they were able to heft it up enough to get their arms around it. They put a hand on the trigger, and putting their whole weight into it, were able to lean it back enough to aim it at Deadlock. The smug smile melted off the Decepticon’s face as he noticed his rival’s actions. “(Name), put it down, you’re confused and afraid, it’s okay, I’m here for you now. You’re safe.” “Am I?” The human shouted back. Their voice sounded so raspy and not nearly as steady as they had hoped. “Then why do I have these memories? You attacked Earth! You attacked the Autobots! You attacked me! I remember fighting you in a mech suit.” Deadlock growled and his ruby optics flashed to the Autobots who were only just starting to stir on the ground. “They messed with your mind. Put that weapon down and I can get you help. We can fix this and you can be happy again.” The human readjusted their slipping grip on the weapon. “No! This started before they came. You did this, I don’t know how, but now I have double memories that tell two completely different stories. But you,” the human took a deep breath to steady themselves. They were shaking now. It was a struggle to keep the gun up and pointed at the menacing con in front of them. “You, I remember you. I have memories of fighting you that are clearer than the rest. I remember you destroying my mech suit and capturing me. You brought me here against my will. I don’t know what you did to me, but I’m leaving with the Autobots!” Deadlock’s optics narrowed. “What makes you think they want you back? How can you be sure they’re not just here to terminate you? Think of what you’ve done, what information you’ve spilled? How much Autobot energon do you think we’ve spilled because of you?” Deadlock smiled as the human’s eyes widened. Their hold on his weapon began to slip once more. He lowered his voice, “I told you, you are a Decepticon now. Like it or not, you belong here, with me.” The human’s eyes watered, and they blinked hard, trying to remove the extra fluids. Deadlock smirked. He had them. He would always have them. They could fight, and as amusing as their intrepid spirit was, he would always best his precious little rival. Thundering footsteps from down the corridor interrupted Deadlock’s triumphal thoughts. A large, red, and blue shape ran into view. “(Name!)” Optimus yelled, taking stock of the scene he was coming into. The human stared at him. Once again, memories flashed: meeting the Autobot leader on Earth, asking, begging him to allow them to join the fight, seeing the worried but proud look in those blue optics when they first powered up their new mech suit. Like before, these memories seemed sharp and clear. They brought a surge of emotions and comfort to the human’s entire body. Optimus was here and they’d be okay now. Deadlock snarled and reached for his other gun still holstered over his shoulder. Before he could draw and shoot, the human took advantage of his distraction and pulled the trigger. Their aim, as it were while trying to hold the too-large-for-them weapon, was not great, but it did hit. Deadlock stumbled and clutched his leg where he’d been shot. He turned back to the human, optics as angry as fire. With the remaining strength they had left, the human pulled the trigger again. The shot went awry this time, but Deadlock flinched at it nonetheless. As he pulled back his arm to swipe at the human, Optimus plowed into him, sending him tumbling into the wall. Having spent the last bit of their strength, the human fell to the ground, Deadlock’s gun pinning them awkwardly, but only for a moment. Optimus, as carefully as he could, removed the weapon and scooped the exhausted human in his arms. Behind him, Ironhide, Arcee, and Jazz ran up, weapons drawn and ready. Ironhide kept his cannons pointed at the unmoving Deadlock while Arcee and Jazz went to help Sunstreaker and Bumblebee who were struggling to rise now. “Up ya get my man,” Jazz helped Sunstreaker to his feet and pulled his arm over his shoulder to give support, “you’re brother’s never gonna let me hear the end of it if I don’t getcha back to base in one piece. You too Bob.” The insecticon who had been trapped under the fallen Sunstreaker, chirped and whirred weakly. Bumblebee, who was now being supported by Arcee, looked around and asked weakly, “(Name)? Are, are they alright?” Optimus looked down at the human cradled carefully in his arms. They gave a weak smile through their tears. It was about all they could manage right now as they were struggling to keep themselves from just shutting down mentally. The double memories had taken a toll on their mind. They still just wanted time to think, to figure all this out. There were wounds from this that would need to be healed. For now, though, they knew they could trust Optimus. They could feel that deep down, more than any memory, false or true, could say otherwise. Optimus nodded to his bots and opened his commlink, “Autobots, fall back. Ratchet, prepare to open a ground bridge at the rendezvous point.” The Autobots retreat, joy in their sparks. Arcee and Bumblebee look on with smiles as they retrace their steps down the corridors of the Decepticon base. They had their human “sibling” back! Ironhide led the way, canons at the ready as they went. Jazz soon joined him after Sunstreaker insisted that he could walk fine by himself and would cover the rear. No Decepticons snuck up on their back, and between Jazz and Ironhide, the cons they came across were quickly dispatched. They made it back to the rendezvous point with the other Autobots. The human at this point was barely hanging on to consciousness and didn’t hear Optimus comm Ratchet to open the ground bridge, but they did see the familiar blue and green swirling lights. As the Autobots retreated through the bridge, they looked up at Optimus. He noticed their attention and looked down concernedly at them. There were still tears in their eyes, though they were from relief now more than anything. “You came for me.” Something about the tone they said it in, tore at Optimus’ spark. Their shock and pitiful hopefulness spoke volumes about what psychological treatment they’d been dealt while captive. It was going to be a lot of time and effort to heal. Optimus looked around at his Autobots around him. They kept shooting worried looks to the human in his arms. He knew each and every one of them loved the human greatly, each in their own way, and would be supportive as they healed. The human, whom he viewed as his own child, was in good hands now. “Of course, (Name), we’re your family. We’ll always be here for you.” The human looked like they might break into tears but instead smiled softly before they finally slipped peacefully into a much-needed sleep.

#transformers #yandere #deadlock #Reader is human #tf au

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kittinoir · 4 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng blinked slowly as she woke to the chirping of birds on her balcony. She yawned, stretching as she rolled onto her side. She let her eyes drift closed again as she chased the remnants of a dream, but the more she pursued them, the harder they seemed to recall.

Mentally shrugging, Marinette let it fade.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept so well,” she murmured. Outside, the birds fell silent. A flutter of anticipation danced through her chest, but then, like her dream, it was gone, slipping through her fingers before she’d even really realized she’d been waiting for a response.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Marinette reached for her phone. It lit up as she tilted the screen. Three notifications were displayed just below the time. 6:47 am. She sat up as she read the time, then double checked it was am and not pm. Her alarm wasn’t due to go off for almost another 45 minutes. She frowned. Mornings were usually spent rushing, but she just…didn’t feel tired.

A small smile lit her features as she turned her attention to the notifications.

Reminder: Adrien photoshoot this afternoon at 2 pm

Reminder: Four months to Adrien’s birthday

Reminder: Let the kwamis out to play

Marinette frowned as she read the last notification, and read it again.

“…Kwa…mi…?” The word felt unfamiliar on her tongue. She selected the notification and opened it up. It was set every day for seven pm, right after dinner, but had no additional notes. She didn’t remember setting it. Maybe it was an inside joke between her and Alya, slang for taking a break and remembering to have a little fun. Maybe it was a reminder that constantly got buried under the Adrien reminders. She blushed as she read it again. It would hardly be the first time it happened.

Her thumb hovered over the delete button, but she hesitated. Let the kwamis out to play. Was being the class representative really so stressful she needed a constant reminder to relax?

Marinette saved the notification and locked the phone. Maybe it was.

She stretched one more time, and then slipped down the ladder to her room. She grinned to herself as she got out fresh towels and headed to the shower, letting day dreams of stumbling into Adrien run through her mind as she got ready to face the day.

***

Marinette had been surprised when she had woken early, but it was hard not to be a little stung when Alya did a double, then triple take as she arrived fifteen minutes before the first bell. Was it really so hard to believe she could be on time? She only lived across the street.

Of course, her teachers had been making that point for years.

“I must still be asleep,” Alya said with a grin, “Because I know I must be dreaming this.”

“Very funny,” Marinette said with a small giggle. “I dunno, I just woke up. Waiting for Nino?”

Alya blushed, averting her eyes. “Lila, actually. She agreed to do another interview for the Ladyblog.”

Frustration, confusion, anger, sorrow, loneliness. They all swirled through Marinette, coalescing into a storm that threatened to overwhelm her. She knew Lila lied, that she had threatened her, but this felt so much worse. She’d never believed Lila could do it, but today the possibility felt all too real, the outrage seemingly without just cause. After all, Marinette had started it…hadn’t she?

Marinette reached out blindly for the one thing she could control, could get an answer for. “The…Ladyblog…?”

“I know you don’t like her, Marinette, but I really hoped you’d be supportive,” Alya said, flicking the charm on her phone nervously. “News outlets are just starting to take me seriously and you know Nadja offered me that internship this summer. Lila’s really helped me out.”

The Ladyblog. Alya’s blog about… Marinette frowned, scouring her brain, but she couldn’t remember. The name rang a bell, but she was coming up empty otherwise.

“Marinette, please,” Alya begged, misinterpreting her frown. “Don’t make me choose.”

“I would never, Alya,” Marinette said, softening as the storm of conflicting emotions finally settled. “I just…Lila’s not what she seems. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Alya finally cracked a small smile. “You had the same reaction to Kagami at first, you know. Maybe you should give Lila a second chance. Stay for the interview.”

Marinette forced a small smile of her own. “Sorry, Al. Remember to double check your sources.”

Alya rolled her eyes but the smile stayed as Marinette slipped away. Her emotions swirled again, but she was ready for them and had an iron grasp on them this time. She shoved them down as she headed for the school and pulled out her phone. She opened the browser and was only a little surprised to find the blog locked in as her home page. A crease appeared between her brows. Why wouldn’t she remember something like…

The thought drifted away, incomplete as the page finished loading. Marinette could feel her fingers tingling as as stared at the picture on the front page of the blog. Alya had pinned it to the top of the page, but the date was several months old. The image depicted a young girl in a red and black suit, her arm stretched out as she seemed to fly across the night sky, the Eiffel Tower in the background.

Ladybug to the rescue!

Marinette became aware of her heart pounding painfully as she read the caption. Her knuckles had gone white around her phone. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t -

“Hey, Marinette!”

Marinette felt the phone slip through her fingers and clatter against the floor as she whipped around. “A-Adrien.”

Adrien frowned, those impossibly green eyes searching her face as he stooped and collected her phone, handing it back to her. “Are you…ok?”

“Uh, yeah,” Marinette said, taking the phone back. “I was just…reading the latest article on the Ladyblog. It kind of freaked me out?” Was that right? Should it freak her out? She held her breath as she watched for Adrien’s reaction.

He cracked her favourite smile, one she could tell was real and not because some photographer had demanded it. Marinette felt herself melting.

“I get it,” he said, reaching out to give her arm a squeeze. “Hawk Moth has been getting worse, and I know Ladybug and Chat Noir had a close call the other night, but they saved the day. They always do.”

Marinette thought she saw something else flash across his face, something like panic or pain, but it was gone before she could be sure. “Lucky for us,” she said, scrambling again for the right words. “It’s just…hard not to worry sometimes.”

“Hey.” The hand on her arm slid up to her shoulder. Marinette tried not to shiver at the warmth she could feel through her jacket. “They would never let anything happen to you, Marinette.”

“You’re right,” Marinette said, forcing a smile. “I’m worrying about nothing. Um. Are you excited about the photoshoot this afternoon?”

Adrien bit his lip as he dropped his hand. Marinette tried not to let her disappointment show as he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously and leaned in as though they were co-conspiritors. “Would I be letting you down if I said no?”

“Letting me down?”

“I know you’re a fan,” he elaborated, “But…I don’t know, I guess I’d rather be here with you guys. Besides, between you and me, this latest collection isn’t the most exciting.”

“I could go with you,” Marinette blurted. She almost slapped a hand over her mouth, but she decided doing that would be the only thing worse than what she’d already said. “If that would make it better.”

“I don’t want you to miss class for me,” Adrien said. The disappointment in her voice almost broke her heart. “I’ll be fine.”

“I have study hall last period,” Marinette said, “So I wouldn’t really be missing anything, but if you’d rather I didn’t - ”

“No!” Adrien interrupted. “I’d love to have you there, Marinette. Are you…really sure? I won’t lie to you, it’s pretty boring.”

“An inside perspective on the industry would be amazing,” Marinette said, nearly bouncing. “I would just you - IT! I would just love it.”

Adrien laughed, and Marinette wished she could have bottled the sound. “I’ll meet you out here at 2 pm then?”

“2 pm,” Marinette echoed, “Ok.”

“See you in class,” Adrien said with a wave. Marinette watched him disappear down the hall, her heart pounding. Had she been too pushy? Did she sound like a pyscho stalker? Did he think she liked him? Like LIKE liked him? She’d practically invited herself to his shoot; was her cover totally blown?

Marinette blinked, surprised by the familiarity of the feeling and the anxiety it brought with it. Sure, she wanted to tell Adrien on her own terms, when she finally felt it was the right time, but…why did her secret feel like life or death?

Taking a deep breath, Marinette fired off a quick text to Alya to update her on her success. She bit back a smile as she typed, the reality of the afternoon settling in. Did it count as a date if he was working?

Marinette turned to face the school, ready to face the day. It was already a win; nothing else mattered. She snapped open her purse and dropped her phone inside, but paused when she heard it crunch. She frowned, pulling the purse up to her face to peer inside.

A lone macaron sat in the bottom of the bag, broken into two pieces beneath her phone. Marinette frowned as she pulled out the pieces and examined them. The macaron was from her family’s bakery, but it wasn’t wrapped or contained in anything. One of the outer edges had begun to crumble, and Marinette felt her skin crawl, wondering how long it had been in there. She shivered once and tossed the stale dessert in a near by garbage bin, promising to double check her purse more often before bugs or mice found their way to the forgotten food.

#Echoes of You #writing #wip

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thatonedoctorwhoau · 4 years

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Chapter 10! Remember when I said I was probably going to slow my updates because I was running low on prewritten material? Yeah, me neither. Once again, special thanks to @dtvibez for all her contributions on this story, so go send her all your love and support

Summary: 24 hours ago, George Ashworth lived a completely normal life, with completely normal people, and a completely normal job. 24 hours later, he was running for his life beside a man he had met mere hours prior from an otherworldly monster. Suffice to say, this was the start of something new and wonderful. And hair-pulling annoying

On Wednesday the 23, October 2015, at precisely 9:05 am, George Ashworth came to a stop, as the Marcorx slowly got off of the bench and began walking towards him. Watching the two come closer, George observed how with every passing step, their bodies began to shake. Slowly, the humanoid shapes began to stretch, extending themselves upwards. Their arms became skinnier, the flesh drooping, before correcting itself into paper thin wings. Their fingers grew narrow and thin, and their downturned hats rolled into the back of their heads. Worst of all were their faces: their thin mouths curved upwards violently at the slits of their mouths. Their heads contracted and extended at the same, their teeth erupting violently into the light. George felt unwell, and slowed down his pace, in an attempt to rationalize what he was seeing.

The wind had begun picking up, causing large swaths of leaves to fill the air. Storm clouds had begun to roll in. George pressed a hand to his earpiece. “Wilbur, I’m ready.” He was met with static. “Wilbur, are you there?” The static tone only increased. “Tommy, Tubbo, is anybody there?” He turned his head around to look back at his friends. The three had frozen in place, unmoving. “What’s going on?!” He screamed; his friends remained static

The beasts began approaching him at a faster rate. George increased his pace, before fully turning around and running towards his friends. “For the love of god move!” As he approached them, he stopped and reached over to shake Tommy.

To his horror, his hand passed right through him and with a flicker, he disappeared. George cried out in terror, before attempting to touch the others. Like Tommy, they disappeared beneath his finger tips. Realization dawned upon him: he was on his own.

+++

“George, George, don’t move until we say so.” Wilbur said, leaning into his earpiece. Meters in front of him, the human had frozen at the sight of the Marcorx transformation. While he was at a considerable distance, Wilbur could still see how horrific it was. “George,” he spoke again, attempting to gain the man's attention.

George frantically turned around, his eyes scanning and screamed out “What's going on?!”

“You need to run now.” George continued to stare in terror, before turning back to face the monsters.

“Why isn’t he running?” Tubbo exclaimed. “George, run!”

George turned on his heels and began approaching them rapidly. The group prepared their respective objects: Wilbur pulled a small silver box with buttons and a screen out of his jacket pocket, while Tubbo and Tommy each pulled a blue knife out of their pockets. Wilbur pulled out his key, signaling the Tardis to open its doors in time to let George in.

The door remained shut. Wilbur pressed it again, hoping it had been an accident, but the door refused to open. As horror dawned on him, George arrived, but deviated from the plan; stopping and attempting to touch Tommy, before his fingers passed right through him.

“What the shit!” Tommy exclaimed, watching as George attempted to touch Tubbo and Tommy with the same results. “Wilbur, what's happening?!” “I don’t know, this wasn’t supposed to happen. The Marcorx can manipulate reality, but not this much, not enough to keep the Tardis shut.” George began running towards the Tardis, slamming into it before pulling on its handle.

“Please,” he screamed. “Please let me in.” The Marcorx passed Wilbur, and George barely moved out of the way before they crashed into the Tardis. He sprinted down the path, with the Marcorx screeching behind him.

“Wil,” Tubbo said, staring. “What are we going to do?” “Improvise.”

++++++++++++++++++++++

George ran as fast as he possibly could, hearing the nightmarish noises trailing behind him. The yellow park was all but abandoned, and overhead, storm clouds had gathered up again. George considered whether or not the rain that began pouring was a tactic used by the Marcorx, as it had been present at every encounter he’d had with them. As he felt the tips of the Marcorx’s claws brush his skin, he ducked down and began running into the more densely forested area of the park, forcing the Marcorx to double back.

Upon entering the more wooded area, George immediately began searching for a hiding spot. The terrain was a lot more uneven, and the ground slanted downhill extremely quickly. George attempted to keep his footing as he raced along the terrain, but his foot soon got caught in a small ditch, causing him to fall into a larger pile of leaves. Gasping from the pain building in his ankle, George hobbled out of the pile as quietly as possible, before positioning his body within a dead tree in an attempt to hide himself. George's heart was racing, and he placed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to quiet his heavy breathing. Out in the woods, he could hear the Marcorx flapping their wings, making shrill noises as their means of communication. Through a hole in the tree, George could see the beasts making their way past the pile of leaves he’d fallen into. The Marcorx angled their faces upwards, as if sniffing the air.

<Oh George> The voice in his head whispered again, louder than before.

<You can’t hide from us forever> The Marcorx lunged at a nearby tree, ripping into it, before stopping. <We know you’re here somewhere>

‘They’re going to destroy everything until they find mine.’ George thought. The Marcorx confirmed his suspicions, approaching another dead tree and ripping it apart. <There's only one place you could be>

The Marcorx approached his tree slowly, making those noises once again. Realization dawned on George: He wasn’t making it out of these woods alive. There was nothing he could do now. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the end

<One>

‘At least Tommy and Tubbo are safe.’

<Two>

The beasts readied themselves to attack.

“THREE!”

A loud screeching noise filled the air.

+++

Wilbur’s mind began working in overdrive, attempting to formulate a plan to save the human as he and the children began following their friend. “Wilbur,” Tommy yelled, running alongside him. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“I’m working on it!” He replied, pulling his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and placing it between his teeth.” He began pressing the buttons on the silver box, repeatedly slapping the device in an attempt to get it to work. Ahead of them, George ducked down, before sprinting off of the path and into the woods.

“Wilbur, what do we do?” Tubbo yelled, stopping as the Marcorx dove into the treeline.

“Like I said,” He muttered through his teeth, “Working on it!” “Well work on it faster!” Wilbur grabbed the sonic screwdriver from his mouth and began scanning it against the silver device. It made a ringing noise, before Wilbur placed it back into his pocket. He pressed several buttons, attempting to get the device to work, before slapping it several times, stopping only when a soft ping was emitted.

“Now we’re in business!” He exclaimed. The three of them ran into the woods, attempting to find a trace of their friends' location. Silence filled the air, as they strained their ears, attempting to hear any sounds indicating which way George had gone.

Up ahead, the sound of something heavy falling to the ground broke silence filling the air. Pressing a finger to his lips, Wilbur grabbed the two boys and indicated towards a clearing slightly to the left of them. The three quietly made their way forward.

Another heavy object was heard smashing to the floor. Wilbur and the boys scrambled, ducking behind a fallen log and poking their heads up. The Marcorx were closing in on a tree stump, where Wilbur could only assume George was hiding.

<One> The Marcorx screeched. Wilbur began to stand up.

<Two> He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and pressed it against the device.

“THREE!” He yelled, and pressed the button on the sonic screwdriver. A sharp ringing noise, not unlike the one he’d used the previous night to ward the Marcorx off, was emitted, sending the beasts screaming to the floor as they shifted in and out of their monster form. “Tommy, Tubbo, go!” The boys jumped forward and sprinted down the hill, pulling their knives out of their pockets. As they reached the first monster, they stabbed the beast repeatedly, black blood splattering across their bodies. The half human half Marcorx attempted to get up, but it's constant shifting made it difficult to move, allowing the boys to land several key blows. After several moments, the Marcorx let out a groan, before growing still, its body returning to its original form.

The sound of crunching leaves alerted the boys to movement, and they jumped up, prepared for a fight. They were met with the sight of George emerging from the tree, hands covering his ears. “George!” They yelled, running over to him and wrapping their arms around him. From behind them, the ringing noise quieted down, and Wilbur made his way down the hill, approaching the final Marcorx, who laid still, glitching ever so slightly.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Wilbur exclaimed, reaching the beast. “I’ll let you go right now. I’ll let you live a long and violent life, scouring the universe for your next meal, on the condition that you never lay a finger on my friend again. Now,” He leaned his head over the Marcorx face, “Do we have a deal?”

With a screech, the Marcorx lunged forward, its jaw open. George and the boys flinched, but Wilbur just turned the dial on the box to raise the volume of the ringing. He stepped towards the boys. “Tommy, can I have your knife?” Tommy handed the knife to him, and Wilbur turned back to the beast. George raised his hands to cover the boys’ eyes as he plunged the knife into the Marcorxs face. After several swings, the alien was dead.

Wilbur turned back to the boys and turned the box off. The group stared in silence for a few seconds. “Well,” he began, “Time for lunch. I’m starved.”

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greg-ellis-receipts · 3 years

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There are several replies he tweeted within this thread overall. I only pulled a few key tweets for brevity. But all source links, go back to the thread as a whole so feel free to comb it for more information.

Background: Mary McGlynn is a well known in the VO community. She is a voice director with dozens and dozens of credits.

After this thread, Greg went on to various and numerous tweets, dating back to at least 2018 where he spam tagged Mary’s twitter handle. I have a few links to these incidents saved.

Under Read More for length:

Mary: (replying to a now deleted tweet from Bret Weinstein) Twitter is a private company that has rules and he violated them (Trump) over and over again. He was warned and yet he kept violating those rules. He incited the attack on the Capitol of this country. Good on Twitter.

Greg: I agree. Twitter has rules. And those rules have “business” interpreting our speech.

I am by no means a fan of this President, although I am genuinely curious, and hope you can provide an example... what specific words did he use today that incited violence?

Quote him.

Greg: Hey Mary, I’ve just scoured your timeline and it turns out that you have violated the Twitter S&P’s as well *grimace emoji* Am I ok with you being censored as well? No!

Yes, he’s a tyrannical arse, but I want to witness his vapid aresery on full public display. Still waiting for a quote...

Mary: Yes Greg, If I broke the rules, I should be flagged. And I can’t get the tweets from Trump, because Twitter took them down. Not sure why you would choose this hill. The rules are clear and Twitter flagged his tweets multiple times. He praised violent insurgents today. “special”.

Greg: I look forward to you sending quote receipts of ‘incitement to violence’ from today. My original tweet was about Social Media Oligarchs and censorship. I make no apologies for fighting to protect OUR rights to speak freely and responsibly. Big tech should not censor any of us.

Mary: You are more than free to do that, Greg. Go to town. But if big tech is a private company, then they are allowed to establish their rules and enforce them accordingly.

Greg: Yes, I have every right to speak freely about it. That was my point.

The social media companies are not private companies, they are publicly traded entities and I believe we have a duty to check them when they start playing politics, even if it’s with a side we do not support.

Blog Author Input: I cannot find any information supporting if Twitter is a public or private company. Everything I find is highly biased and not necessarily analytical in nature regarding the US Constitution and Free Speech. It is, however, publicly traded. But that does not mean anything other than what that is, a publicly traded stock. Will edit this upon new information.

Greg: Still patiently waiting on you sending/posting quotes on today’s spoken incitement/sedition. There’s a lot of people, including me, expectantly waiting...

And please don’t suggest I don’t value human life. That’s a really cheap shot and you know it.

Mary: Though not directly saying “break into the Capitol” here are many fires he lit to stoke the flame of violence, indirectly inciting the incident. He got all those people there and then he and “trial by combat” Rudy told them to go to the Capitol. And he used Twitter to do it.

I will not be posting the Trump tweets here because that is not a focus of this blog.

Greg: So no quotes with direct statements of incitement to violence or sedition then?

New “speech police” laws in the UK only resulted in authoritarianism and politburo politics. Protecting speech is unpopular to those who fail to grasp why it was written in the constitution in the first place.

#Greg Ellis #Johnny Rees #Greg x Trump #cw Trump #cw Capitol Insurection #Greg x Politics

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gothamcityangst · 3 years

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love the blog! can i request some riddlebird, with penguin protecting/saving riddler?

Ohhh, excellent prompt. I’ve been waiting for something like this! Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to write it. TW: violence, violent torture, drugging, whipping. A longer response than usual. Please do enjoy it.

Oswald had scoured the city. It had been a week in hell. He’d searched every nook and cranny and yet Edward was nowhere to be found.

Ed had left the Lounge on Sunday night, they’d just had their engagement dinner and Ed had wanted to pick the wedding planner from his office. Oswald had thought all was well until he’d heard the car had been ambushed on the way back to the apartment. The driver had been snipped and the car veered off-road. Outside of the limousine, they’d found one of Ed’s incisors in the dirt, the tie that Oswald had gotten him for Valentine’s day was torn to shreds and lastly was Ed’s notebook. A leather-bound book that he’d taken on their first date.

Oswald had his men scour the area. As the week passed, they couldn’t find anything that would suggest his location. It was the longest week of Oswald’s life. It was only one of his men’s suggestions that he check the notebook for a hidden message. And his Ed bear had been clever. The pages he normally kept so clean had a folded corner, a page dedicated to revealing a hidden message by pencil rubbing. As they rubbed over the last page, they found the name Roman Sionis written right there.

Oswald mobilised every available man he had. After about an hour of knowing it was Sionis, he’d managed to find one of Sionis’ top men. Oswald had him tied to the chair. An array of different torture tools lay on the table beside him. The man had two options. Either spill the location of Edward or he could spend the next few months waiting for an organ transplant. If he allowed the man to live that long.

“I wouldn’t give your hopes up. Sionis gave us free rein to do whatever we felt like. He’s damaged goods now, Ozzy. Call it payback for fucking over Roman.”

Oswald threw the man down on his face, shooting him in the back of the knee. His knee exploded forwards, the agony showing on the man’s face. Oswald aimed the gun to the back of his other knee. The barrel of the gun was poked harshly into the skin.

“Ah, Fuck! The Steel Mills. He’s in the back of the Steel Mills. Jesus Christ. Fucking stop.”

“Thanks. Now piss off and die will ya?” Oswald shot the man in the back of the head, the blood splatters splattering over his shoes. Oswald was a man on a mission.

“Hold on Eddie. I’m coming.”

They’d managed to attack the Mill with ease. After holding a couple of guards on the way they’d found out the exact room they were keeping him. He was being kept in a small backroom near the boiler room.

The room was worse than the ones in Arkham. The walls were completely eroded by rust, a small, stained mattress in the corner and the smell of damp wafted through the air. As they moved through the room, he spotted a pair of handcuffs tied around a metal pole in the middle of the room, blood was pooled around the base of the pole.

In the middle of a room was a man tied to a chair, his hands were strapped to the arms of the chair. His right hand was missing its ring finger. His engagement ring was still on the severed finger beside the chair leg. Oswald couldn’t see him breathing as he approached him. His head was hung limp. There wasn't any indication that he was even alive.

Ed jerked as Oswald touched his shoulder.

“Please...No more...I can’t...Please. Not again.”

“Edward.”

Oswald saw how Ed’s whole body froze upon hearing his name.

“Ozzy...You’re here.” His voice made it sound like he didn’t believe it. Edward attempted to look up at him. He evidently didn’t have the strength to do it.

“Eddie bear. Oh god, what did they do to you?”

Oswald held him by his chin, inspecting the damage. Ed’s eyes were dilated. His right eye was bruised a deep purple colour, the left was bloodshot and unfocused. Whatever they’d given was still in his system. Oswald. Oz rubbed his head against Ed’s. Oz was supposed to be among the most powerful men in Gotham and he couldn’t even save the person he loved most in the world.

He cut Edward’s bindings and slung his arm over his shoulder, hosting him up. Ed seethed in pain; Oswald could feel open wounds under Edward’s shirt. Several deep lines ran across his back, Oswald knew damn well they were whip marks. He was going to drag Roman Sionis through the depths of hell for this.

With each step they took Ed winced in pain. Oswald hushed his soft whimpers and calmed him, assuring him every step of the way that he was safe. Ed huddled in close to him, his body was dangerously cold.

One of his underlings approached the both of them.

“Sir. We’ve cornered Roman in his office. If you give the order, we’ll shoot to kill.”

Looking back at his beloved he made his choice. Whatever pain Edward was feeling he would give to Roman tenfold.

“No. Bring him back to the bloody lounge. Alive. The room from earlier is still set up. Seems a pity to waste it.”

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megalony · 4 years

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Help me, Doctor- Part 4

This is the final part of my Doctor! Ben Hardy series, I hope you have all enjoyed reading this series.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms

Series taglist: @blog-hannahnicole

Summary: (Y/n) is referred to Ben when her other doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her. Ben is one of the best doctors to treat her… but the problem is that he already knows (Y/n) and has slept with her before.

Part 3

Ben Hardy masterlist

Enjoy.

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"What's happening?" Gwilym darted his eyes around the room as he walked inside with Joe following closely behind him.

Both of them had felt anxiety rattling through them when Ben paged them to say they had to come down to (Y/n)'s room immediately. When Ben admitted her into the hospital they both tried to help Ben in coming up with any kind of diagnosis that could help. All three of them had done tests and scoured through every medical textbook they had but nothing seemed to come to light and (Y/n) was undoubtedly getting worse.

Her symptoms were coming and going but they were having a bad effect on her and it seemed to be speeding up. There were no months in between symptoms where (Y/n) seemed to go into remission, she was going into a downhill relapse and no one knew why and they couldn't stop it.

Ben couldn't give (Y/n) any antibiotics or medication because he didn't know what she had. If he gave her a treatment for something she didn't have he could make her body weaker and he could damage her brain if he treated what she didn't have. He couldn't play with her life and take a risk of treating her for something he thought it was because he had no proof that this was what it was and without evidence, it was just speculation.

All Ben had been able to do was give (Y/n) antipsychotic medication to try and relieve her sudden schizophrenia and it had thankfully worked. Within three days (Y/n) wasn't hearing the whispers and voices surrounding her like she had done before. But with the voices disappearing, another symptom took its place and Ben couldn't stop it.

"I don't know what to do."

Ben turned to face his two colleagues with tears welling in his eyes causing them both to feel startled. Ben was not one to cry and he was not one to show his emotions around them, much less at work. They both knew (Y/n) was special to him and they knew her case was rattling Ben's cage like never before but they were now realising that he was at breaking point now.

Before Joe or Gwilym had the chance to ask Ben what had happened he beckoned them further into the room to come and see (Y/n).

Ben took a seat on the edge of the bed next to her, watching as her eyes seemed to soften but he could still see the worry swirling around in her pupils. He wished things would have been different. He wished that they had continued to see each other and had gotten together because they had been seeing one another rather than because he had become her doctor. Ben wished their relationship had had a normal start as opposed to becoming closer as he tried to find out what was wrong with her.

He wished that he didn't feel like a failure because he couldn't find a diagnosis for her.

"Sweetheart, lift your arms up for me." Ben motioned with his hands for her to stretch her arms out towards him like she had done moments before he paged the boys.

Both Joe and Gwilym stood at the end of the bed to see clearly what was concerning Ben but they didn't know how to respond. (Y/n) tried her hardest to do as Ben had asked but her limbs were shaking and when she stretched her arms out in front of her and tried to lift them, she could only just raise them off the bed. They trembled far too much and after two seconds she had to lower them to her sides again.

Leaning over, Ben pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head before he stood up and walked over to the boys. One hand rested on his hip as his other hand brushed over his mouth and jaw, a motion that showed he was getting anxious.

"She's losing motor function, fast. I tried to help her up with a nurse but she can't stand and she can't move her arms... she can't even speak, she's becoming locked in." Ben brushed the stray tear from his eye as he swallowed harshly. He had noticed a few days ago that (Y/n) couldn't move as easily as before and he and the nurses had tried doing arm and leg exercises with her but it hadn't worked.

This morning when he and a nurse eased (Y/n) from the bed and to her feet, she couldn't place her feet firmly on the floor. Her feet caved and twisted the wrong way and she had no ability to place them flat on the ground or hold up her own weight. Her legs weren't moving much at all either and now her arms were losing their ability to function.

Ben had had to sit and cradle (Y/n) like she was a child during the night because she couldn't speak and the shock had caused her to have some kind of panic attack. She could murmur and try to make noises but her throat and voice box couldn't function properly to convert the noise into words and it was terrifying (Y/n) to no end. She was losing her functions in the blink of an eye and she was becoming locked in her head because her thoughts were still working.

(Y/n) could see and hear what was happening around her and she could think and form sentences and speeches in her head. Her mind was continuing to function properly but she couldn't verbalise or show what she was thinking because her body was failing.

"So we know for sure something is affecting all of her brain if it's got her motor skills and her speech..." Joe trailed off as he drifted his eyes over to look at (Y/n), managing a small smile in her direction so she wouldn't start to panic. Ben had always known that it was her brain that was the problem but they now knew that they couldn't narrow it down to a specific area or lobe of her brain because all the different areas were now affected.

"Put monitors on her to see her brain waves and function, surely if there's an anomaly or a glitch, we'll see it." Gwilym folded his arms over his chest as he tried to think about what else they could do. At least if they could see the activity of her brain then they could see if a part of her brain was suddenly not working or overworking or if something glitched, they would know where it was and what was happening. It was something they could easily do for the time being whilst they thought of something else to try and do.

"I need to find a cure. I've put her on Diazepam for the seizures because she's suddenly having two or three a day and she's still on the anti-psychotic meds but I'm no closer to finding out what's wrong with her. If I don't come up with something soon... what if these effects are irreversible?"

Ben had had to keep (Y/n) on the meds to stop her psychosis because although it had stopped now, he couldn't take her off them in case the symptoms came back. Her other symptoms seemed to have repeated recently and were flooding back so Ben had to keep her on the meds as a precaution. He also had to start giving her Diazepam which stopped seizures and muscle spasms as well as controlling a few other medical problems.

(Y/n) started to have more seizures since being admitted into the hospital and some of them were seizures where her limbs jerked and spasmed but more recently she was having seizures in her brain. Her eyes would roll to the back of her head and the monitors would scream and go viral because her brain was being affected but her body seemed to lock in place.

Ben knew it clearly hurt to have the seizures and it wasn't doing her any good to constantly keep having her brain spasm out and seize. So he had to have her on medication all day every day, he was dosing her up on Diazepam so that her brain would dull down enough to stop the seizures.

But Ben didn't know if these symptoms were going to be reversible, if he even found a cure and a diagnosis for her. He could cure what was happening in her brain but there was no guarantee that the symptoms would disappear and (Y/n) would recover. She could stay locked inside her head and become immobile like this for the rest of her life.

All of them knew that if no one found her a cure soon, her symptoms would become so severe that either her brain or heart gave out or her brain shut down and sent her into a coma. Ben couldn't have that be the outcome, he couldn't lose her so quickly when she'd only just come into his life. He couldn't lose her and find out that he could have so easily cured her. Ben needed to help her now before it was too late.

"Put her on Ciprofloxacin, it could be an infection in the membrane-"

"And if it isn't and I give her that I can make her intolerable to antibiotics or shred her immune system. I'm not giving her anything like that unless I have the diagnosis so we have to find it now."

Ben couldn't put (Y/n) on antibiotics because if that wasn't the diagnosis and Ben gave the medication to her she could become intolerable to the medication. It was a strong dose of antibiotics so if (Y/n) got through this and needed those in the future she wouldn't be able to have them and Ben was at risk of ruining her immune system with them if there was no infection. She didn't have meningitis which Ciprofloxacin was mainly used to treat, it was too dangerous.

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Ben watched (Y/n)'s eyes drift up to look at him with a kind of pain in them that made his heart shatter and his stomach churn. She was pleading for help because for one month, she had been trapped with almost no abilities left that she had had almost all of her life.

(Y/n) felt as if she was reverted back to being a child, unable to speak, only to mutter and whine. Unable to walk or even move her legs and unable to move her arms or bend her fingers correctly. Her thoughts were always rambling but she couldn't express them in any way and it hurt to feel like she was locked inside her own body with no way to get out.

Ben was the only source of refuge that she had.

He came in every day without fail and spent almost all day with her, she wondered if he even stayed with her during the night too. He had brought cards that they used with other patients that had pictures on them. Some had coffee, some had food, some were of usual things such as clocks or music or tv. It was the only way Ben could help her to communicate with him, he would lay out some of the cards and get (Y/n) to point or simply look at whatever she wanted.

(Y/n) felt at ease when Ben would come in and talk to her. He came in as both her boyfriend and her doctor, he spoke to her like she wasn't ill and he checked the monitors and did blood tests and little tests during the day like asking her to point to something or write something out so he could check her brain function.

He even did some more MRI scans to contrast the new images of her brain to the old ones and see if there was any change or any part of her brain that was working more or less active but the little contrasts weren't any signs of an illness.

But Ben did find something interesting.

(Y/n) was still losing movement but she was gaining some as well. She was still able to move her right arm and hand even if the movements were stiff and her leg but she couldn't move properly or walk. He was noticing that the symptom of mixing things such as numbers and letters was coming back to (Y/n) again too.

"Hey, sweetheart. I need you to do something for me... can you draw that clock on the wall please."

Ben placed a plain piece of paper and a pen on the tray in front of (Y/n) and waited for her to make a noise of agreement before he took her right hand and gently placed the pen between her fingers. He helped curl her fingers around the pen before he moved back to let her do as he requested.

(Y/n) made small murmurs of concentration and strain as she tried to draw a circle for the clock but the circle was squiggled and very uneven because she didn't have enough control over her hand. She lifted her hand and bashed it back down on the table to move the pen up further so she could start drawing the numbers.

Joe entered the room just as (Y/n) had finished, and for the first time, he saw a look of hope in Ben's eyes.

"The right side of her brain is inflamed, look at how she sees the clock." Ben handed the piece of paper over to Joe as he felt a spark of hope lighting up in his chest as his brain was in overdrive to think about the reasoning for this. He could feel the cogs turning in his head as he suddenly realised just what this could be.

Joe's jaw went slack as he looked at the drawing. (Y/n) had drawn the circle for the clock, but she had written every number on the clock on the right side of the clock and left the left half blank. If the right side of the brain was inflamed it affected what that half of the brain did and the right side of the brain controlled the left half of the body and vice versa with the left half. She couldn't move the left half of her body and she couldn't interpret things properly because one half of her brain was on fire.

"What do you think's causing it?" Joe could see now why they could never find something wrong with (Y/n). Inflammation wouldn't show up on any of the scans they had done, nor on the monitors checking her brainwaves.

"She's got Anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis." Ben felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest as he reached over and took (Y/n)'s hand in his own.

This was an auto-immune disease which meant that her immune system was the cause of the disease. It thought something in her brain was a threat and her white blood cells had started to attack the receptors and nerves in her brain. It wouldn't show in blood tests and the brain was still functioning so the scans and tests wouldn't see anything wrong.

"Check the brain spinal fluid and I'll go sort out the antibiotics." Joe put down the piece of paper before he darted out of the room.

The way to test for this disease was to check the fluid in the spinal columns connecting to the brain. The fluid would show any abnormalities and the changes in the cells that would be formed to show the disease. When they got the results back they could start (Y/n) on the medication straight away and get her back to normal.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart."

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"Three more steps." Ben encouraged as he stooped over a little, resting his weight onto his hands that were holding onto the two metal barriers on either side of him.

His smile wouldn't disappear from his lips as his eyes couldn't move away from (Y/n) who was standing in front of him.

It had taken just over two months to get her to this point and he couldn't believe this was now happening. As soon as they got the results back and knew Ben had the right diagnosis, Joe had gotten the antibiotics ready and they had started (Y/n) on the medication to stop the inflammation in her brain and calm down her immune system. Within days (Y/n) was able to get back her movement and feel like she could start to talk. Her head no longer felt like it was burning and her brain had calmed down.

The seizures stopped, she could read properly without her mind switching up words and numbers here and there. She wasn't hearing any voices in the back of her head and there was no paranoia eating away at her telling her that she wasn't safe and that everyone was out to get her.

But recovery hadn't been the easiest.

(Y/n) was going to have to take medication for the rest of her life because if she stopped, her immune system would simply start to attack her brain again. The medication dulled down what her immune system had done and it stopped it from attacking her brain so it would stop and the effects would disappear. But she had to take them in order to keep her body healthy.

With the ability to speak coming back to her, (Y/n) had to go to speech therapy and learn how to talk again like she was a child. And physiotherapy was needed for her to be able to walk again because her legs had been unused for over a month. She had gained back full control over her limbs and her mobility but it wasn't as easy as just standing up, she had to be able to get her feet firmly on the floor and work out how to use her legs again.

Ben had been there every step of the way.

He had taken her to speech therapy, he had been there when she first stood up and got out of bed and he had been there when she stood up on her own. Ben knew how physio worked so after a week, he was the one helping her to walk and they had the sessions every day so (Y/n) could get better quicker.

Right now, (Y/n) was trying not to lean on the metal barriers that she had used for these two months. She had gripped them and dragged herself to walk for a while but now she was trying to properly walk without needing to hold onto something to ease her weight from her legs. (Y/n) wanted to walk from one end of the barriers to the other to get to Ben without needing any assistance and she had three more steps before she reached him.

When she could walk properly and they knew for certain that her brain had recovered, she could go back home and start going to work again and (Y/n) couldn't wait for her life to start again. Up to now it was as if someone had pressed pause on her life and was only now allowing it to continue.

"C-catch me." (Y/n) stated quietly with a smile as she managed to lift her feet rather than shuffle over to Ben. It was hard to walk properly when before she never had to think about forcing her leg up and her foot to lift and then place back down. But she was walking again and to have her mobility back, felt invigorating. Her arms reached out when she got to Ben and he wrapped his arms around her waist to catch her when she stumbled against him.

He couldn't help but laugh at the sweet but dopey smile on her lips as she reached him. (Y/n) slung her arms around Ben's neck and pressed her chin into his chest so she could look up at him properly.

"There's my girl." Ben mumbled before he leaned down and pressed his lips against her own. Feeling her grin against his lips which caused him to break the kiss to smile. "You'll be coming home in no time." Ben whispered as he rested his forehead against her own, tugging her a little bit closer so her chest was pressed up against his own.

(Y/n) bent her knees to relieve the tension so it didn't feel like she was standing up for too long but Ben was holding up most of her weight making it a lot easier for her.

"Thank you." (Y/n) pushed away the tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she spoke earnestly. She reached up to kiss the corner of his lips but Ben's eyes narrowed quizzically. He didn't see why she was thanking him, she had spent almost six months with no diagnosis and then almost two months locked inside her head whilst he and every other doctor seemed to run around like headless chickens trying to find a diagnosis.

Ben should be thanking her for being the most patient and understanding person he had ever treated.

"Don't thank me, sweetheart. You have something so easily treatable but we couldn't find it at first. I should be thanking you for being so patient-"

He didn't feel that he deserved any praise. Ben had been given all the clues by all the symptoms (Y/n) had had and he should have found this out earlier. She could have been saved from being locked in her body or from having psychotic episodes or from the paranoia and the pain if he'd of only thought of this autoimmune disease. It was a rare disease but Ben had scoured every textbook and didn't even think or come across this idea.

"Y-you thought o... of the clock, you knew i-it was my brain and the right side. You got t... the diagnosis for me when no one else believed me... and you didn't leave me. Thank you."

Ben had asked (Y/n) to draw the clock that gave the diagnosis he needed, he noticed that the right side of her brain was the one being affected in the end. He had been there for her when she had her seizures, he gave her the medication to stop them when she had felt like her head was splitting in two. Ben had believed her when every other doctor thought she was either an alcoholic or she was exaggerating. Other doctors had come in to give their opinion when (Y/n) became locked in her body and none of them knew what to do or what was happening, except Ben.

He found out what was wrong and he didn't leave her for one single moment when she needed him. (Y/n) would be eternally grateful to him for that.

Ben started to sway them from side to side as he rested his forehead against her own, having never felt so content in his life before. It didn't care how (Y/n) came into his life anymore or how or why they got together because they were together and she was okay. Ben would never ask for anything more than this.

"I don't think I could ever leave you, sweetheart. I love you far too much for that."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #borhap #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #help me doctor

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