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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

The Hollow

Pairing: monster!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: yandere, horror, stalking, kidnapping, death of minor characters.

Words: 2137.

Summary: You were finally going mad. Apparently, it was something in the air, right? Something the management told nothing about that caused hallucinations and all those scary things. Obviously, all those people who worked in the assembly shop #4 before you left because they knew that. That was the reason behind the stupid legend and all those rumors.

_______

There’s a man inside the wall behind you.

This was what the factory workers told you as soon as the manager left, forcing you to question people’s sanity. At first you thought it was a bad joke or something. A man inside the wall in the assembly shop #4? What the Hell was that?

You thought they wanted to scare you away because they didn’t like you: your colleagues were simple people who lived in this godforsaken place for ages and knew each other as if they all were one big family. You, an outsider from somewhere far away who didn’t even look like them, weren’t the same kind, they probably thought. Of course, they didn’t take a liking to you and tried to make you leave so that you wouldn’t become an eyesore.

However, soon you found out they all were pitying you. You could feel their eyes on you each time you left the shop where you worked alone, and all you saw on their faces was fear and regret. A couple of women tried befriending you, sitting at the same table as you during lunch, and the next day they all told you anyone who had been working in the shop #4 left in less than a month. Naturally, you didn’t believe that crazy talk about the man in the wall - it’s not like the factory was built in those times when people were buried alive inside the walls for good luck. Then the women tried convincing you to work facing the wall - you were now standing behind it because of how the rusted pipeline with a barrel shifter was placed. You almost rolled your eyes in irritation: you wouldn’t risk losing your job because you couldn’t stand where you were told by the manager. You desperately needed money.

The day after you received a letter in your locker: somebody asked you to leave the assembly shop #4 immediately if you valued your life. It was starting getting scary. Were these people schizophrenic's? No, there were far too many of them who believed in this creepy urban legend.

At some point you got so fed up with this stupid talk that you headed right to Andy, your manager, to ask him why on Earth people were bothering you with this. The man spent half an hour talking about employees who had nothing better to do other than slacking off and telling silly stories when they needed to work. Yes, rumors had it that almost a hundred years ago there was a man, an talented engineer, who entered the assembly shop #4 and never came back, but it had nothing to do with this ridiculous legend. The wall behind you was all solid blocks of stone that were never moved since the day this factory was built. Even if the engineer was killed - although Andy believed the story wasn’t even real - how would somebody hide the body of a grown man there without dismantling the wall?

The story should have put you at ease, you thought, but instead it only made you more concerned: now as you knew about a disappeared engineer, every time you stood with your back facing that cursed wall you felt the shivers running down your spine. What if there were a ghost or something? You didn’t believe in them, of course, but the dim light in the shop #4, its rusted pipeline, dirty floors and dust balls were hardly making you feel any better. And that disgusted lunch bell... it sounded almost like Silent Hill siren.

You worked in the shop for 8 hours every day, having no time to literally visit the bathroom. Assembling metal parts that always looked ugly over and over again could make anyone go nuts. By the end of the day your body ached as if you carried a giant stone on your shoulders, your back hurting, arms heavy as you barely kept standing. You didn’t even have strength to smile at Dean, an elderly night guard, but he just nodded to you with understanding, knowing well what it meant to be a factory worker here. This shitty job could kill anyone if you stayed long enough here.

Was it the reason why everyone kept talking about that man in the wall? This was the only way to liven up things here, you guessed and decided to talk about it more with the women who you befriended.

They were happy you finally started asking questions. They talked about the legend of the engineer vanished into thin air: you had never heard so much nonsense, sitting quietly in the bus and waiting for it to bring you home. Somebody said the engineer made a pact with the devil himself and merged with the wall, becoming immortal within the stone; the others claimed the engineer went mad because of his loneliness and buried himself in the wall; one woman argued that the engineer, on the contrary, was a ladies man and got sealed up there by a relative of his former lover who committed suicide. There were far too many rumors for you to remember, and soon you abandoned the idea to use the-man-in-the-wall topic to "liven things up" in the factory.

The two weeks had passed since the time you first started working here. You hated this rusty place with all your heart, but this job kept you afloat. It was still better than nothing. Biting down on your dry lower lip, you exhaled tiredly and lifted a particularly heavy detail, trying to fit it in the right place.

The next moment it fell down the dirty floor as you heard an awful sound behind your back as if the heavy stones were moving. It was just for a second, a mere second, but it was enough to have you on edge as you stared at the wall with your eyes wide open. It was some kind of an auditory hallucination, right? There was nothing different in the wall behind you. It looked just like it always did, a nasty grey stone with a tint of orange from the rusty hooks. The wall couldn’t open up just like some Narnia’s wardrobe, could it? It was far too old for any sort of mechanisms like that. Besides, it wouldn’t be able to close so fast, leaving no traces. It was some hallucination from your lack of sleep.

Your coworkers didn’t think so when you told them about it. It was the man in the wall, of course. It always started like this - with an awful, frightening sound. Soon you would be hearing things and feeling the stare of that man all the time, they said. The room #4 was a terrible place, and you should leave it immediately, they said. One woman even offered you to stay at her place if you couldn’t provide for yourself until you found a better job. Of course, you declined her kind offer.

But you did start hearing all kinds of things while you were working. Stones moving, metal clinking, some weird rustling out of nowhere - it was all making you insane, especially since every time you turned around only to see nothing but the wall behind your back. Everything was as it should have been, but you felt something was happening when you didn’t look.

You were finally going mad. Apparently, it was something in the air, right? Something the management told nothing about that caused hallucinations and all those scary things. Obviously, all those people who worked in the assembly shop #4 before you left because they knew that. That was the reason behind the stupid legend and all those rumors. Obviously, you - and all those people who ran away from here - lacked money to do all the necessary medical tests to prove anything.

Shit, you really needed to find a better job if you didn’t want to spend the rest of your days in an asylum.

Now at night you were sending your CV and cover letters, but you couldn’t stop working, nonetheless, forced to constantly look behind your shoulder or turn around just to make sure you weren’t totally crazy. You tried ignoring the noise once, but when it grew louder instead of disappearing in one second just like before, you realized it was a big mistake. Every day was turning into a nightmare.

Grey stone, rusted hooks, dust bunnies on the floor. The same picture you saw over and over again when you were turning back. It was simply unbearable. At one point you even wished to see something different there, something that would prove you weren't going insane.

You had to be careful with your wishes. When you came to the shop #4 the next time, you saw a face of a man cut in grey stone.

You didn't know what happened after that, coming to your senses in the resting room with your coworkers giving your water and some pills, your body shaking so badly you barely managed to sit. Was that a hallucination? A face of a man in the wall? All people around you kept saying it wasn't, describing this face to you so vividly as if they saw it themselves.

You needed to get out of here. Even if it meant becoming homeless and begging for money on the street, it was still a better option than staying in one room with that thing.

It was the next day you prepared to give Andy your letter of resignation, turning back to face the wall nearly every minute. No, you weren't going to stay here and watch how your life was becoming a living Hell - damn, it already was, wasn't it? You no longer slept peacefully, barely eating, constantly trying to keep a bottle of cheap wine you kept in the kitchen out of your reach. No, no, no, you weren't stupid enough to work for a minimum salary in a place like this, risking your own life.

It happened when the lunch bell rang, making you cringe - the next moment something had exploded with such a defeaning boom you almost fell down to the floor. Shit, you knew this sound - an omen of a great catastrophe that certainly disfigured somebody, if not killed. Something went horribly wrong in the assembly shop #3.

The blood drained from your face. Oh God. Were Shirley, Agatha and Simon alright? No, they weren't. Judging by the horrible screams coming from the metal door, they weren’t.

You moved as if in slow motion, your legs suddenly giving up on you, the siren wailing so loud your head could burst, forcing you to forget all the emergency instructions you were given. You needed to open the door. You needed to get this people out of there, those who were screaming in pain, cursing, and pleading for help.

"You can't go." A soft voice somewhere behind you said, and you froze. "You will die out there."

Someone's hands wrapped around you like a rope, making it harder to breathe, not letting you take one more step to the rusted metal door and dragging somewhere back instead until you felt the cold grey wall with your back. It was him, wasn't it? It was the man who had been watching you for a month from inside the stone, waiting for his chance.

When the realization hit you, the fear became suffocating. You couldn't move, couldn't even speak or cry out something to make others know you're trapped here, with a man in the wall who was taking you with him. But nobody would hear you anyway: the unstopping cries of people from the assemble shop #3 were earsplitting, and the siren didn't get silent either, making your efforts futile.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured so gently as if he was your lover, making you want to puke, "I won't leave you here."

The wall behind your back moved with a sound you knew well. Although you expected to bump into cold stones and rusted hooks that would tear your skin apart, instead, you felt darkness embracing you, wrapping around you like a cocoon. The picture of the assemble shop #4 looked so far now, so little as if you were staring at the tiny photo in an old album. It felt surreal.

You were behind the stone wall - or inside of it, you couldn't tell - looking at the real world through the looking glass. They were right. All those people who were constantly telling you about the man living in the grey stone wall were right.

"I was waiting for you a long, long time," the voice behind you said, and you felt somebody - or something - lowering their monstrous head to your shoulder, making a quiet sigh, "but you finally came to share my solitude... Thank you."

________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodie-rin @iheartsebandchris

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #yandere #winter soldier #mcu fanfiction #mcu

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Note

:O your requests are open! :D i really like your writing, and I'd like to request the brothers(+undateables if your okay with that) with an MC who really hates apples, and the brothers handed them an apple and they threw it at the brother purely on instinct? I have a weird hatred for apples, and I git handed an apple and yeeted it at the person, completely on reflex/instinc, I felt pretty bad but they were laughing, so something like that? Though if you don't want to do it, then that's totally okay! Don't overwork yourself :) stay safe, have a nice day!

I----

Interesting! This is definitely comedic and something I can do! I'm so happy you enjoy my writing! Stay safe yourself and have a nice day!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were focusing on your phone; scrolling through devilgram as you lazily lounged on your sofa but you saw apples pop up on your feed. A new Apple based recipe coming up on some of the feed blogs you've followed.

You weren't really sure how to bring up your DISDAIN for apples. Your absolute HATRED for them. Was it the texture? The taste? Who knows- you didn't! You just couldn't stand them.

You knew it was silly so you never brought it up. The poison apples in the Devildom only made your hate even more prominent.

You were so caught up on your thoughts so you didn't expect someone to give you one, telling you to eat. Out of pure instinct you just chucked it to the closest person in the room.

Lucifer:

Didn't expect you to throw it at him

Hit him right in the shoulder

He saw you lounging on the sofa and noticed you haven't ate yet

He stared at his shoulder, wincing as he rubbed it

You let out a scared apology

Dreading his reaction but he caught you off guard

He bursted out laughing, his brow raised as he just stared at you chuckling

"Was you really that startled? I didn't think an apple would scare you that much."

"i- I guess so...is your shoulder okay?"

He nodded, the pain already subsiding

"I'll be sure to keep your Apple instincts in mind next time."

Mammon:

He screamed in fright

Screamed more when it hit him right in the nose

You immediately shot up and rushed over to his side

"Mammon-! I'm so sorry-"

He immediately started bursting into laughter, stopping to sneeze but it never happened

You couldn't help but giggle at his struggles between uncontrollable laughter and stopping as if he was about to sneeze

"You HAD to aim for the nose! You damn rascal!"

He tried to smack you but got caught off guard feeling his sneeze actually arrive

"I'm sorry! But why are you sneezing?!"

"I sneeze when i hurt my nose."

You laughed even harder as he sniffled

"WHAT??!!"

"Did you seriously feel that threatened by a little apple ya had to throw it me?!"

"........yes."

This became an inside joke for you two quickly after

You smacked his nose and watched him struggle to sneeze and he'd give you apples to throw at people

Levithan:

It hit him right in the dickins

How it got that low was a shock to both of you

You tried not to laugh as he clutched his crotch, whimpering and slowly sinking the floor

"Levi, I'm so sorry, hopefully it didn't absolutely destory it."

You both just stared at each other before the both of you bursted out laughing

"I'm never doing that again- you could of shot it off with that throw!"

He winced, adjusting to sitting up as the pain subsided

"Are you okay though? It looked like it hurt."

"I'm fine, are you going to do that if I give you more fruit? I don't blame for not liking it."

"no, just apples - promise."

"you're a weird human but could we test how your throw again some time? I might need your help."

Satan:

It hit him in the side of the face

You felt your heart drop straight to the floor

It wasn't too long ago Satan was chewing out levi

Internally this was Satan:

"you ******* I will ************ rip your **** right out of your ******* spine and pull it through your nose ***** ***** ******************************************************* that hurt!"

Meanwhile the outside of him was just rubbing his cheek/ear

You screamed out an apology, fearing this was your last day

But he just chuckled, waving his hand

"it was an accident, let it be a reminder I don't surprise you like that."

You still frowned

"I'm still really sorry....does it hurt alot? I can get you some ice-"

"No need, it'll be fine, no more apples for you though."

"I have no issue with that, I hate apples."

You both laughed, but you stared at him, completely serious

"I'm not kidding, I literally despise them and will keep throwing them out of instinct."

It felt good to finally let that out

But Satan just bursted out laughing

A high pitched wheeze leaving him

Asmodeus:

Just caught it in time except in his scramble to catch it he got scared by your sudden throw

He football kicked the apple by accident and it went flying through the window

"Let's not tell anyone, I'd rather not have Lucifer on me for breaking something."

"my lips are sealed - trust me."

He wiped his hands, pouting

"I try to give you something nice and you just throw it at me! What's that all about?!"

You cringed, guilty about your reaction

But you couldn't help it!

It was something you couldn't control!

"Sorry, I just do that...with apples."

He let out a sudden snort/scoff

Raising his brow at you

"I'm never giving you one again but~ if I were to get you to throw them at people, you wouldn't mind, would you?"

You shook your head, laughing at his eagerness to cause issues

He couldn't help but laugh himself

"I'll do it if you give me something in return, okay?"

He happily agreed, nodding and throwing his arms around you

Though the moment ended when you both heard Lucifer outside

He found the Apple.....oh no

Beezlebub:

Man built like a brick wall

He couldn't catch it and it hit him right in the chest

The apple got DENTED

You couldn't even think about apologizing as you couldn't stop your fit of laughter

The dented apple just rolled to your feet

"you didn't want an apple?"

You shook your head furiously

"no- sorry, did that hurt? It dented-"

"I didn't feel a thing, do you want a different snack?"

You nodded

He soon came back with food for himself and another healthy snack, offering you a sip of his smoothie

He sat with you, eating his food pile

"I hate apples....it's best no one gives me one."

"You had an impressive throw, I think you'd well in the R.A.D athlete team."

"wait- really?! Thank you!"

He agreed, humming as he ate

It was safe to say he got you an apple to show your throwing skills without thinking about your throw

It got you a good score and even got praised for your instinct

Belphegor:

The apple bonked him in the head

His forhead getting suddenly attacked

You rushed to his side, moving his fringe

"are you okay?! It's not bruising is it?! I'm so sorry!"

But he just started laughing

"I didn't expect that! You gonna do that everytime Someone surprises you?"

"no just apples - stop laughing! It isn't - It's not funny-!"

But you started to laugh too

"I'm not hurt, don't worry."

He huffed as he moved his fringe back over his eye again

You really weren't sure why he insisted on his emo hairstyle but it was best not to question it

"Shame you aren't, I could of kissed it better."

Without missing a single beat

He suddenly clutched his head, howling in agony

"THE PAIN!!! ah!!! The pain-! You must kiss it better or else I will die."

You rolled your eyes

Moving his fringe once again and gave his forhead a quick kiss

He suddenly hugged you but it wasn't long before he fell asleep

You landed on the floor

Letting out a pained 'oof' as you tried to shove him off you

But he refused to budge

Muttering a sleepy 'revenge'

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me shitpost #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me imagine #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me headcanon

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mikauzoran · 3 years

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The Shipping Continues

I’m still reading through the Vanitas no Carte manga to practice my Japanese, and I have some more favourite moments from Volume Four to share. ^w^

First off, Noe completely losing it when Dr. Moreau tries to touch Vanitas.

Dr. Moreau was just asking Vanitas if he could extract one of Vanitas’s eyes to study it, and Noe has had enough.

Vanitas says, “Hey. What are you doing? Stop it.” because Noe is going to blow their cover to which Noe replies, “I’m sorry, but that’s impossible. Dr. Moreau, I’ve got a mountain’s worth of things I want to say to you, but...calling people by a number like you’ve been doing with your ‘Number Six-Nine, Number Six-Nine’...cut it the hell out!!!”

I like that Noe just drops all pretense of politeness here and snaps. ^.^

A side note on Dr. Moreau: I really love the allusion to the 1896 book by H. G. Wells: The Island of Doctor Moreau. (Have people heard of it before? ^.^;) It’s about a mad scientist who’s made these hybrid human-animal creatures on this island that the narrator gets shipwrecked on. My favourite character is the pink sloth creature. It’s an interesting book, and I always love when contemporary fiction references classic fiction. The references make me happy. ^w^ It’s like finding Easter eggs.

This is another great scene. Vanitas was about ready to give up, but Noe inspired him to keep trying. Actually, what happened was Vanitas was going to have everyone leave and seal the room until the monster consumed itself and disappeared on its own because there was no way for them to get the cursed one out of the monster in order to purify them. Noe convinced Vanitas to jump into the monster’s void-like maw in order to perhaps save the cursed one from inside of the monster.

Only, they didn’t know that that was going to work. For all they knew, they were going to their deaths. Instead of letting Noe go in on his own (because Noe wasn’t giving up, and he was going whether Vanitas went or not), Vanitas decided to go with Noe, knowing that it could be a suicide mission. It’s kind of romantic in a twisted way that Vanitas picked possibly dying with Noe instead of letting Noe go alone and then sealing up the room to let the monster eat itself out of existence.

But what I really like about this scene is the dialogue!

Vanitas: That’s the cursed one who created “Predator”. (The kanji says “shadow figure”/“silhouette”/“shadow monk”, but the furigana reads “puredatouuru”.)

Noe: It’s okay. We can win.

Vanitas: Ha. “So long as we’re together”?

This is a callback to a scene in Volume 3:

Here, Vanitas has just asked if Noe can win against Roland (I’m guessing that’s how you spell his name. In katakana, it’s “rooran”. I’m guessing that’s the French name “Roland”). Noe says, “I don’t know...but we can win. So long as we’re together.”

A note on my translation: That’s not literally what Noe says, but that’s the vibe. In Japanese, it’s “oretachi nara”. Literally, that means “so long as it’s us”. The emphasis is on “tachi”. “Ore” would just mean “me”. “Tachi” makes it plural, so Noe is emphasizing that so long as it’s him and Vanitas, they can win. It feels more natural in English for me to translate that as “so long as we’re together”.

I love the above scene of Vanitas and Noe laughing together after having pulled it off and narrowly escaped death. I also love Roland looking on in awe at a vampire and a human laughing together.

You can tell he ships it. This is his “and then a shipper was born” moment.

Above is another great scene. Amelia comes in to give Vanitas a message, and Noe is still sleeping. He’s just fallen out of bed with a loud crash.

Amelia: Noe-san?!

Vanitas: Oh, so he’s fallen out of bed again?

Amelia: Uh... Is this...really okay?

Noe: *soft, breathy snore*

Vanitas: Hey. Don’t get close to him. He’ll turn you into a body pillow.

I love the implication that Vanitas knows this fact from personal experience. How else would he know that Noe latches onto and snuggles anything and anyone within reach when he’s asleep? Vanitas has definitely gotten snuggled before, and I want fan art. XD

Honorable Mentions from Volume Four:

This scene. I won’t translate it word for word, but Vanitas is getting worked up because Noe refuses to take one of the Chasseurs hostage. Vanitas says that if Noe doesn’t like Vanitas’s way of doing things, he can just go because Vanitas doesn’t want to be around people with Noe’s soft way of thinking. Vanitas is afraid that if he spends time with people like Noe, Vanitas will eventually go soft too, and then he’ll end up dead.

I really love the depth of Vanitas’s character. Sensei has done an excellent job with him in particular (though, all of the characters are wonderful). His psychology is fascinating. He’s obviously been through a great deal, and he’s adapted in order to survive. He’s scared of letting people in because being the way he is and being a loner is what’s kept him alive and safe up until this point.

I’m really looking forward to seeing how Noe slowly chips away at the walls Vanitas has built around himself. ^w^

This is my other honorable mention. After Noe and Vanitas escape from the catacombs, Vanitas collapses next to Noe and slumps against Noe’s back. It’s really precious.

He closes his eyes and sighs, “I’m tired”. I love the trust and vulnerability here. Vanitas obviously feels safe enough around Noe to let his guard down. ^.^

My Love Letter to Yen Press:

Once again, if you’re interested in reading Vanitas no Carte, you can get it in English from Yen Press. I really love this publisher because they do an excellent job of staying true to the original text. When I was in high school and couldn’t read manga raw yet (either because I couldn’t get my hands on it or my reading level wasn’t sufficient for what I wanted to read), Yen Press was my favourite because I felt like I could trust them to translate the manga how I would myself.

When I was little, you couldn’t trust the people who were dubbing anime into English. They did ridiculous things to sanitize anime for kids’ consumption like editing out all of the cigarettes and guns. They changed dialogue so that characters who had been hinted at being queer in the original were no longer queer in the English dub. They did silly things to localize the anime like changing onigiri into donuts and whitewashing the characters. That was my main motivation for teaching myself Japanese. I wanted to be able to tell for myself what was actually being said and going on. Yen Press was one of the companies I could trust to be faithful to the original in their translations until I was able to read the original on my own, so I’m sure they’ve done a fabulous job with Vanitas no Carte, if you’re interested in checking it out. ^.^

Okay. That’s it for me for now. Do you guys like me talking about my favourite scenes? ^.^; I know my Ladybug followers are probably like, “What is she on about?” XD Thank you for indulging me.

#Vanitas no Carte #Vanoé #Noe Archiviste #Vanitas #The Case Study of Vanitas #Vnc #Vanitas no Shuki #The Island of Doctor Moreau #Vanitas no Carte Volume Four

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madhyanas · 3 years

Text

there can be no oceans

It's only when the Child needs a bath that Din realises his ship doesn't have one.

Read this on AO3!

Characters: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): One mention of ‘spice’ as a drug. Set sometime soon after Chapter 4: Sanctuary. No spoilers for S2.

Notes: i! want! to write! more! character fics! so take this. thank you @pettyprocrastination for taking the time to read this beforehand <3

masterlist

———

The Crest wasn’t built for children.

Her walkways are narrow, interiors unpainted. Any room not taken up by essential utilities has long since been repurposed for weapons and munitions storage. There are no rounded corners, no softened edges; there is no baby-proofing to speak of. A capsule of robust, sturdy durasteel hurtling through the galaxy.

As reliable as she is, especially in the hands of Din’s capable piloting, the bare minimum the Crest offers to any inhabitants at all is an absence of jagged scrap metal jutting out to be slashed on. Which is as close to a miracle as he’s going to get, considering his ship’s survived being taken apart and stitched back together again.

Sometimes the visor’s sight catches on a slivered scar. The junction between the cockpit and ladder, the panel next to the hatch. He’ll look at it for a second, bumpy and gnarled, remembering the Crest’s shell scattered in pieces across desert rock. He’ll remember his ship, peeled to bits without mercy. Then he’ll brush his fingers over the soldered mark, and walk away.

But despite everything, the Crest is comfortable; Din can admit that her resilience, outlasting her age, is something he’s grown attached to. And when it comes to the very, very mundane, the kid seems to have pretty good instincts — doesn’t dangle over heights, doesn’t stick his hands into sockets and plug ports. His ship, in and of itself, doesn’t pose a threat to the little one. So long as he’s not left in the cockpit unsupervised.

It’s a minor weight off his shoulders that the kid’s content to amuse himself with that gear knob, occasionally gurgling commentary to Din — who has found “Is that so, kid?” to suffice as proof that he’s listening — and offering a satisfied, toothy grin. This is typically the point that Din feels his mouth pulling up into a crinkling smile, fond and proud.

It reminds him of something Omera told him in passing. Din hadn’t understood the phrase at the time, hadn’t ever needed to apply it in his day-to-day.

“You’re lucky,” she’d said knowingly. “He’s an easy baby.”

Thinking of mudhorns and mudjumpers and the kid’s inability to follow instructions, Din didn’t think it made much sense. He understands it now.

But, no — the Razor Crest, being a gunship and not a nanny droid, was not constructed for childcare. In all honesty, this hadn’t really occurred to Din beyond the obvious.

Until the kid needed a bath.

A bath that his ship does not have.

Din sighs, standing in the refresher doorway and staring at the slim sonic shower compartment. The Child waddles in curiously behind him, leaning on his boot with both arms hugging the ankle. He coos up at Din questioningly. There’s a slight twitch of his ears before he raises his arms. Two chubby fists clench and unclench repeatedly, a familiar demand.

Din promptly bends down to pick him up, angling him face forwards to stare at the offending compartment together.

“It’s a sonic shower,” Din explains. He frowns, wondering how to go about this. The kid smacks his lips idly. “Don’t think it’s meant for kids, buddy.”

Those wide, dark eyes suddenly turn to him with hope, but Din’s already shaking his head. “No.”

The kid blinks, multiple times. Din could swear the little monster’s batting his eyelashes. “No. You still need a bath, you’re not getting out of it that easy.”

In his arms, the kid deflates with a huff. His ears droop so quickly they bat against Din’s chest and quiet grumbles buzz through the cloth of his shirt.

It makes Din smile, part-amused and part-relieved. He’s never been very good at the whole ‘disciplinarian’ thing, especially not with a kid that can move things with his mind. It’s difficult to tell where to draw the line between kind and disapproving. He’s probably leaning more into the former.

“We’ll just have to… figure something out.”

He glances to the left. The sink is built into the wall, a nondescript metal bowl with a drain and tap. Din avoids looking at the mirror above. After so many years under the helmet, it doesn’t necessarily feel surreal. It’s simply odd to have visual confirmation of what he looks like.

The kid squirms in his arms, and Din blinks, slowly placing him back on the ground. He shuffles out of the ‘fresher quickly to whichever corner he’s chosen to play in today, his stuffy brown robe dragging slightly on the ground. Maybe that needs to be looked at.

Din looks back to the sink, figuring something out.

———

For all intents and purposes, the sonic shower is useful. Or perhaps that isn’t the right word, considering it just does what it’s supposed to.

It’s efficient, then. A way for Din to stay clean without worrying about the ship’s current water capacity. Whether it’s actually pleasant or not is another question, but one that’s never been important enough to be asked.

Now, though, Din thinks he’ll need to find a more permanent solution.

The sink in the ‘fresher has its own water supply, true. But it’s enough for Din to wash his hands and shave every few weeks at most. Since the New Republic started cracking down on smuggling circuits, the price of water transportation fit for hyperspace has spiked. A popular medium for diluted spice, apparently. So he’s careful with how much he uses up, wary of the ever-dwindling pile of credits to his name.

He kneels down next to the sink, craning his head to check behind a panel and exhaling sharply with the protesting ache of his neck. It’s a small slot for a liquid tanker, and Din soon realises it won’t be enough to fill a cup, much less the whole basin.

It won’t work.

———

This brings him to the next idea. Somewhat quickly, because the kid seems to have gotten into his head that no water means no bath. That’s probably bad handling on Din’s part.

There are sealed tanks of water stored in a hull compartment. Bulk-purchased and potable, for prolonged journeys and adverse conditions. Tanks that he’s loath to crack open when there’s water available elsewhere.

He lugs one into the fresher, and when he feels his lower back twinge with the effort, he makes sure to bear the brunt of the weight with his legs. Then his knees begin to strain. He sighs.

He passes by the kid on the way, sitting on the floor and gnawing on his metal ball with intense focus and adoration. He looks up at the sound of Din approaching, tilting his head sweetly at the tall canister.

Din takes it as a question, so he answers. “No idea, kid.”

When he does, finally, manage to shove the tank in the refresher and pour as much of it as he can into the sink’s water supply tube, the Child follows. His head turns from the half-empty tank, to Din, and back to the tank. As the ears swish with every movement, like palm leaves twitching and swaying in the breeze, Din watches the gears turn patiently. It’ll click.

Then the kid thwacks a hand on Din’s thigh, and very insistently garbles something with a firm nod. His approval is understood.

Din smiles. Lets it linger on his face, melt in his chest so warmly he can nearly ignore his aching joints. Gently, he places a hand on the little one’s head, rubbing the spot between his ears and eliciting a fond coo. “Thanks.”

———

That good mood doesn’t last very long when the kid realises, eventually, that bath time has arrived.

———

A tragic wail cuts through the Razor Crest.

From where he’s held over the ‘fresher sink, the kid screeches in Din’s hands, kicking his little legs in the air and keeping a vice grip on Din’s sleeves. Even the ears — those huge, petal bat-ears — are wiggling up and down in his efforts to escape.

“Hey,” Din says. He tries for stern, but it comes out mostly tired. “Hey. Stop that.”

The kid is either ignoring him, or just can’t hear it over the racket he’s making. He scrunches his eyes closed with newfound vigour and shrieks so loud it rings in Din’s ears. He winces.

The Crest’s refresher is built into a cramped corner of the hull. Fitted with a sonic shower, privy, sink and mirror, Din’s fairly certain there are graves dug bigger than this.

It’s never mattered before, since Din spends so little of his time in here anyway, but now he’s stuck in a broom closet — a metal one, with solid, echoing walls — with a screaming child.

Din sighs, with feeling. His headache, which hasn’t let up since the jump into hyperspace, throbs heavily behind his eyes and between his ears. For a second, he toys with the idea of turning off the helmet’s auditory sensors.

The kid had more or less been fine at first. From filling the sink to fetching the soap — a standard, unscented brand that Din only really stores for handwashing — to barely managing to tug his robe over those oversized ears. The kid had insisted on doing that last one himself, until he’d stumbled with the shift in centre of gravity and bowled himself over.

He’d been fine, until his stubby, clawed toes first dipped in the water.

It’s remarkable, Din realises as he looks down at the distraught child dangling from his hands. The kid hasn’t really cried for… for anything till now. At the most, Din just gets a dry, unamused look whenever he hasn’t followed the little overlord’s express wishes. Like eating wild frogs off the ground. Womp rat.

Hearing the repercussions now, it might not have been remarkable so much as just lucky. How does one so small have lungs so strong?

“All right,” Din calls. Trying to be gentle yet also heard over the noise at the same time is a challenge, so it comes out somewhat choked.

At his voice, the kid takes a breather. Literally, his round body heaves in Din’s hands, gasping for breath after his tantrum. Din eyes the tear tracks streaming from his wide, dark eyes, and his sniffling little nose. He can feel the kid’s ribcage pushing in and out rapidly beneath his fingers, stretchy like a balloon fitting in the palm of his hand. He hadn’t forgotten how tiny the kid is but — a lump settles in his throat at the reminder.

He feels his face fall. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, unsure of what he’s pleading for but feeling as if he’s wronged the Child anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would upset you so much.”

Whether it’s his tone or the words themselves, something brings the kid to peace. Though still hiccuping, his breathing evens out.

“That’s it,” Din encourages. “Deep breaths.”

He inhales, lifting his head and shoulders slightly with the movement to demonstrate, before lowering on the exhale.

The Child watches him for a moment, blinking wetly, before doing the same. His ears perk up and down with every breath. “That’s it,” Din repeats.

When he’s reasonably sure the Child won’t start bawling again, Din takes a second to rearrange the kid into sitting balanced on his forearm, facing him towards the mirror. With the other hand rubbing circles into the kid’s back, he addresses the reflection.

“Listen,” he starts seriously. The kid looks up, watching the helmet in the mirror’s shiny surface. “I get that you don’t like it. And I’m sorry I upset you. But you need a bath, so we have to figure something out.”

Din swallows, wondering how they’re going to do just that. The kid, in the meantime, clutches the shirt of Din’s sleeve in two grubby claws and starts chewing, not taking his eyes off the helmet for a second.

Just as he’s about to ask the kid to stop, or at least lay off a little so the fabric doesn’t tear, he gets an idea.

———

In the recent past, Din can’t really remember when things last went his way. So he’s almost confused when the third time really is the charm.

“That’s all it took, huh?”

The kid happily ignores him, watching the gear knob through the shallow, mildly-soaped water with fascination. He stares straight down, his ears sticking up like fresh reeds from a pond, enamoured with the sight of his favourite thing underwater. The concentration he uses to roll it around with both hands softens the corners of Din’s mouth.

You’d never guess the little womp rat was raising hell just minutes before.

Fetching the gear knob from outside was a last resort. He’d been grasping at straws, willing to take anything that would calm the kid down.

And it worked. Leading Din to scrub the bar of soap between his hands, trailing suds through the clouding water.

The temperature suits the kid just fine, apparently. With no way to heat the basin, Din had just… waited for it to get more or less lukewarm. Not ideal, not by a long shot. He’d clenched his jaw, uncomfortable and awkward in the face of yet another reminder that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Standing around doing nothing didn’t sit well with him. At one point he half-seriously considered getting the flamethrower out to speed things along.

But the Child, naturally, didn’t seem to mind. He now slaps his hands into his bird-bath pool with delight, relishing in the waves he can create. The pale, fuzzy hairs on that wrinkly head don’t so much as twitch, and Din has to wonder if the kid’s leathery skin has something to do with that tolerance.

A bubble wobbles into the air, fragile and translucent. A dark, watery gaze snaps to it immediately — the kind of precision only reserved for mudjumpers. The kid stills, and the gear knob is momentarily forgotten in favour of biting through the air to catch the floating parlour trick between sharp, pointy teeth.

Pop. Smack on the kid’s mouth. A light burst of soap residue sprays on the kid’s face, and the squeak of a sneeze he lets out pushes him an inch backwards in the basin.

Din can’t imagine how a thing could be that tiny.

“Nice job,” he offers quietly, because a successful hunt is something to be praised. He gives the kid’s face a once-over — with eyes so big, it’s impressive that the soap missed them entirely. The kid whines disagreeably; he evidently doesn’t care much for the flavour. His button nose wrinkles, and he bounces again with a cough.

Din chuckles. The sound rings in time with water sloshing over the lip of the sink.

“Maybe save the hunting for outside,” he advises, patting the kid on the back. The Child looks up at him mournfully, as if to agree, before returning to the gear knob resting by his foot. A new game is begun; shoving the metal ball so that it rolls halfway up the sink’s bowl before returning straight back, like magic. Every metallic scrape brings a new ripple of laughter.

He should be more mindful of how there’s more water on the floor than in the basin, now. But there are always more tanks in the brig.

In a series of excited, comprehensive babbles, the kid begins explaining the rules of his new game to Din, who listens closely. He interjects here and there to show the kid as much, but is otherwise just a spectator to the kid’s lecture.

Then for a moment, without thought, he looks up. Straight ahead, into the mirror. And he almost can’t recognise the sight.

It’s his helmet, obviously. Comforting; beskar gleaming as much as the day it was first given to him. Unchanged. Same height, same clothes.

But his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, baring inches of skin and several wiry scars. The front of his dark, woven shirt is darker still with the water lapping over the sink’s edge, a sodden patch forming over his abdomen. He feels some of it drip onto his boots and the floor. His hands are covered in suds, tenderly but thoroughly scrubbing the edge of one floppy green ear.

The kid, sitting satisfied and unaware with his cherished toy, makes the image look complete.

Din looks at the man in the mirror, giving his son a bath in the sink. He thinks that his image probably needed a reset anyway.

Then, with something caring and delicate fluttering in his chest, he moves on to the baby’s claws. He makes sure to scrub between the fingers.

———

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

Blazing Blue part 1

Red Son runs away from home after overhearing his father call him a worthless excuse of a demon, agreeing to a truce with MK he ends up with the Monkie crew unaware that someone wants to steal a power that was sealed away long ago.

Chapter one: Truce buddies

Demon Bull King stood amongst the ruins of his old hidden stronghold, his robot clones busy digging out the remains and salvaging anything of use. He took a weary sigh and he surveyed all of what he had built since his revival and growled at how quickly it was destroyed…annoyingly at his own hand! Only then to be enslaved by Spider Queen while trying to raise enough funds to rebuild it. Needless to say, it had a been a few rough months for the Demon Bull Family.

“Man, I had heard your family had fallen on hard times but this is embarrassing!” a voice chuckled and Demon Bull King felt himself bristle with anger, he spun around to smash whoever thought it wise to mock a ten-foot-tall bull demon only to find the black monkey warrior Macaque lounging leisurely on top of a pile of rubble.

“Begone, you annoying simian shadow, I have no time for you” Demon Bull King snarled.

“Aw and I came all the way down here to chat, how rude. I mean I’ll excuse you not getting out the fine China for me on account of well…” he gestures to the crumbling ruin as a chunk of wall collapsed behind him. “Your recent string of humiliating defeats and the fact you had to team up with Monkey King…just wow…how low can you go?”

Macaque quickly sprung to his feet and nimbly dodged a lump of molten metal that flew right past him and buried itself into the ceiling behind him.

“If you have come here just to mock me then I will make you pay for every word you speak tenfold!” he roared.

“You’re right I’m sorry, I actually wanted to see if you were interested in an alliance of sorts?” Macaque exclaimed as he hopped lightly down the rubble pile without so much as disturbing a brick and looked up at Demon Bull King with a smile.

“You come to my home…Mock me and my family and rub salt in my wounds and you ASK FOR AN ALLIENCE!!??”

“What if I told you, it’s a plan to destroy the Monkey King? And his little fan club?” Macaque offered, Demon Bull King glared at him said not a word and then with speed not many would associate with a creature of his size and bulk snatched Macaque with his hand and brought him up to his face to look him in the eye.

“Know this Six Ears Macaque just because I have been buried under a mountain for the last few centuries does not mean I am ignorant of current events! You tried to best Monkey King with his protégé’s own power and you still lost!” Demon Bull King snarled as Macaque squirmed in his tight grip before erupting into shadowy mist and escaping. Demon Bull King glanced around trying to find the real one only for what he hoped was the real one to appear perched nearby on what remained of his furnace.

“See that’s why I’m here, Monkey King knows I like to… “borrow” power from other people, and he probably think I’ll go for powers of say his fanboy or someone just as good but what if I blindsided him with powers of say… The Demon Bull King? Or Lady Iron Fan? Or maybe say the power of demon fire?”

“No. Begone.”

“Com’on I’m not even asking you to do anything just let me borrow some power and I’ll do the butt kicking!”

“Begone.” Demon Bull King replied even harsher than last time.

“Fine, I get it.” Macaque grumbled “Best shot you have of getting your revenge and you’re going to turn it down!”

“I am not as foolish as to become a mere power source to another being, that is not an alliance that is servitude at best!” Demon Bull King declared standing to his full height with his fist clench ready for battle. “And do not think me as foolish to let you even try!”

“Fine. Fine I’ll just try Red Son, he’s more open minded about these things. Plus, I’ve heard the rumours of his… hidden inheritance” Macaque smirked as he spun on his heels and walked away casually only for a fist to slammed into the wall blocking his path.

“You will stay away from my family!” Demon Bull King hissed.

“So, it is true? I mean I’ve heard stories about it but given what I’ve seen of him in action I’d begun to doubt any of them!”

Demon Bull King thought quickly but to be fair his wife was more the brains of the operation, if Macaque was beginning to doubt the stories better to confirmed it than deny them.

“Red Son is a pathetic whelp, who is an embarrassment to us and unworthy of being called my son, he only brings shame and defeat to whatever he does. Whatever rumours you had heard are merely that; rumours. If he did have any power worthy of the Demon Bull King family name, don’t you think I would have used it by now?” Demon Bull King declared coldly, “You have clearly wasted your time and mine. You have your answer. Now go!”

“I guess they must be wrong if even you say Red Son is a worthless excuse of a demon. My mistake, you know how stories get hyped up over the years…I’ll be on my way” Macaque said sadly as he hopped down and walked away arms crossed behind his back. As he did, he glanced over at one of the corridors that snaked through Demon Bull King’s hide out to see a quiet and pale faced Red Son…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Red Son had managed to find his room amongst the rubble and save some clothes, books and tools. Sadly, an iron girder had broken through the roof of his room and destroyed his computer set up and mechanics bench, in a way he was ok with that. Rebuilding his computer would give him something to do while the reconstruction was underway. Now he was heading to the main chamber as he was getting peckish and fancied going up top to grab some food, might as well see if Father didn’t want anything before, he headed out.

As he walked down the corridor, he heard his father shouting and the muffled voices of him talking to another. Who could that be? Red Son wondered as he started to walk faster, Mother shouldn’t be back just yet. She had left the city to find spell ingredients for her magics, [it is kind of hard to locate stuff like dragon scales and tree spirit sap in a dense city metropolis.]

As he came to the opening to the main chambre he heard something that made his heart stop.

“Red Son is a pathetic whelp, who is an embarrassment us and unworthy of being called my son…” his father said, as he tried to listen everything else but it just to swim in and out of his focus as his head spun. “…Only brings shame and defeat…Worthless excuse of a demon…waste of…my time…”

Why? Why would his father say that? Red Son thought they had made progress in their relationship, okay fine he had only called him son that one time but…but that was still a better than nothing? He saved him when the Spider Queen caught him in her webs, they fought her together.

Was he really back to square one? No. it was apparently worse than that he wasn’t back at square one he was off the game board entirely as far as his father was concerned. Heavens knows how his mother must see him give she has called him useless to his face! He had tried no end of times to prove himself only to come home with nothing to show for it.

He didn’t even register Macaque walk by as he spun on his heels and went back to what remains of his room; stuffing what he had salvaged into a backpack and swallowing back a painful lump in his throat as he quickly wrote a note leaving it on the metal girder for whoever to find. He took a deep breath trying to steady his emotions before disappearing in a swirl of flames.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monkey Kid or MK was feeling down of late; his Master the Monkey King had given him the task of catching a red leaf with a gold dot on it. That didn’t sound too hard right? Not when Monkey King is making it rain hundreds of other leaves all of different colours and hues as well and expects him to find it in minutes!

MK sighed, he knew what the lesson was about he was supposed to focus on that one leaf and avoid all other distractions. If he pulled it off and mastered it, he knew he’s probably be able to find a grain of rice on a beach or something as pointless but somehow totally cool sounding. Problem was he couldn’t pull it off, he kept getting distracted or just overwhelmed by the leaves getting dumped on him from above.

So now he sat on a ledge of Flower Fruit Mountain overlooking the sunset on the city, he liked to come here when he wanted to clear his head. On one hand it was freaking awesome he was the protégé of The Monkey King a warrior of renowned legendary might and skill…on the other hand sometimes it would dawn on him on just how daunting it was to live up to the expectations of an immortal warrior who seems to have seen everything the world has to offer and then some.

He sighed as he stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants before grabbing his staff. He began to walk he saw that he wasn’t the only one taking in the view with a sense of melancholy. As he got closer, he squawked in alarm as he saw the familiar flaming red hair and ragged jacket.

“RED SON??!!” this outburst caused Red Son to leap out of his skin and jump to his feet. “What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, push off Noodle Boy, last time I checked you don’t own this mountain!” Red Son snapped grabbing his stuff and storming off “But if you’re here that means Monkey King isn’t far behind and I rather not have to deal with him on top of everything else!”

“Huh? Hey wait!” MK shouted as he noticed the backpack. “What’s in there?!”

“None of your concern!” Red Son barked back.

“It is my concern when you show up on Monkey King’s Mountain with a suspicious bag! What’s in it?”

“It’s not a bomb or anything!”

“You got a BOMB??!!”

“Oh, for the love of…NO! I have not got a bomb or anything of the sort! I mean for pity’s sake I can literally throw fire balls why would I need to carry an explosive weapon??!!”

MK dashed forward and tried to grab the backpack and Red Son tried to pulled it away from him leading to a very childish game of tug of war.

“Lemme see what’s in it!”

“NO!”

“If you’ve got nothing to hide then you have nothing to worry about!”

“ITS MY STUFF SO LET GO!”

Sadly, a backpack that had endured many scorches from its owner and grounded by rubble could only bear so much and with one last pull from both sides the backpack’s fabric tore open and Red Son’s stuff poured onto the floor. Red Son dived down to grab what he could as MK took in the sights of clothes, food, and other mundane stuff.

“Dude…are you camping or something?” MK asked as he saw one of the items that had skidded out of Red Son’s reach, he knelt down to pick it up and saw it was a hand sized family portrait of Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King…before he could get a good look it was snatched from his hands.

“Just leave me alone!” Red Son growled “You can clearly see that I am not a threat!”

“Red …are you ok?”

Red Son was trying to figure out how to keep his stuff in a backpack with a massive hole in it, but he was also trying desperately to ignore the look of concern that was coming from his enemy.

“Are you running away from home?”

Red Son didn’t respond to that and he had stopped fiddling with his backpack as he was now staring sadly at the photo.

“Why?” MK asked softly.

“Why do you care?”

“I mean…I dunno…you and your dad seem to be getting on when I last saw you, seems strange that you’re running away!”

“I AM NOT RUNNING AWAY!” Red Son roared his hair flaring up in flames, gripping the photo tightly as he did. The flames died quickly as did Red Son’s anger as he then whispered “I’m…I’m…just making things easier for my parents…”

MK tilted his head in confusion, he looked at Red Son for a moment. This was a guy who was always so confident, loud and proud of his name and heritage he literally introduces himself in full name whenever he’s about to do something dastardly or anything for that matter. Now he was sitting there with a backpack full of his possessions, on a mountain far from home, staring at a family picture like he’s never going to see them again.

MK sat down next to Red Son, putting the staff away to show he meant no harm.

“Want to talk about it?”

Red Son looked away angrily.

“Ok how about I go first? You know how cool it is to have someone like the freaking Monkey King show up and say that’ll they teach you? It is don’t get me wrong but then you begin to see how big of a shadow you’re stuck under? We’re talking about a guy who literally stole from the heavens and got away with it and has beaten up who knows how many monsters and demons? I sometimes wonder if I’m ever gonna be good enough for this, it’s just feels like the whole universe is just waiting for me to screw up, just to prove that I can’t do it… y’know what I mean?” there a few moments of silence and MK was about to try again when he heard a small voice.

“At least he believes in you, it must be nice to have a someone like that.”

“Your parents don’t?”

“… …no…” Red Son muttered, “I overheard my father today telling someone that he considers me an embarrassment to the family name, along with a few other choice words…”

“So, you…left?”

“I don’t know I wasn’t thinking at the time!” Red Son cried out angrily tugging at his head in frustration, “I want prove to my father that I am worthy of being his son but how? How do I show him that I’m not a …a…pathetic whelp?”

There was a heavy tense silence between them as they both looked at each other and then at the city, the sun nearing finished setting and the in the twilight the city lights began to shine.

“You know what?” MK declared as he got up. “We both need a break!”

“What?”

“A break from all this living up to people’s expectations and ideals! A chance to recharge the batteries and get some of that well-being self-care stuff!”

“What exactly are you proposing?” Red Son inquired nervously.

“We can just hang out; you know play games and chill? Also, you can stay at mine till you get this all sorted out!”

Red Son looked at MK like he had just announced that the moon was made of cream cheese and was inhabited by flying guinea pigs.

“So…a truce?” he ventured nervously

“Yeah! My friends and I don’t fight you, and you don’t fight us!”

Red Son looked down at his destroyed backpack, then glanced at the mountain side he was on and realised that maybe coming up here to hide was a dumb idea.

“It not like I’ve got anything better to do!” he grumbled.

“AWESOME!” MK beamed “Let’s go! We’re gonna be Truce Buddies!”

#monkie kid red son #red son #monkie kid #monkie kid mk #spiceynoodle #sort of but kind of

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on-literal-mars · 3 years

Text

The Narcissism of Wilbur Soot: Ghostburs real unfinished business.

Wilbur Soot effectively manipulated a bunch of children into fighting a war for him. This was the first ‘official’ arc of the Dream SMP and even though it’s been months and months since it happened, so many things still tie back to it. L’manberg: a country more power struggle than nation, Tommy’s discs and their importance, and Wilbur Soots selfishness. This post will be broken down into four parts for four symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder that fit Wilbur the best. There will also be a final section dedicated to Ghostbur and his unfinished business on the SMP.

Having an exaggerated sense of self importance:

Wilbur is a showman. He is useless unless he has an audience. It’s introduced from day one as he cultivates an army over the shared dream of freedom, again when he holds an election and reads out the results, and finally when he doesn’t blow up L’manberg until Phil comes. How many times does Wilbur go into the button room by himself? I think on stream maybe 3-4 times. That’s 3-4 times that he doesn’t do what he says he’s gonna do and it’s because someone like Wilbur needs an audience.

He can’t do anything by himself, he hates himself too much, the only time he achieves anything is when he manipulates others to get it done for him. Think about it. How many times has Wilbur sung out for his nation and called it “My L’manberg” like he built it himself? Like he actually fought in the battles instead of standing off to the side and urging his child army to ‘keep fighting’. He’s encredibly entitled. Which brings us to our next point:

Having a sense of entitlement:

Wilbur believes that everything is owed to him. Dream is a tyrant for telling him not to sell drugs on SMP land. People should be allowed to do what they want.

Wilbur should be allowed to do what he wants.

And he wraps this idea up with a bow and calls it ‘freedom’. He elects himself president without any hesitation and is surprised and insulted when Quakity runs against him. I’ve already touched on how he obsesses over L’manberg and destroying it. A narcissist looks at life with complete tunnel vision. The only thing they care about is what will benefit them and what will make them feel better. So the logic behind Wilbur wanting to destroy L’manberg was never ‘they took it from me, I want to destroy it so they can’t have it’(because even that requires some level of empathy) but more ‘It’s mine. If it isn’t mine, then it can’t be any bodies’.

it was always his L’manberg. His unfinished Symphony. It was his way of taking back control. Here’s one thing you have to know about Narcissists, they are rampant control freaks. And if they can’t control you or you are no longer benefiting them, they will destroy you.

Being preoccupied with fantasies about brilliance, beauty, or the perfect mate:

We’ve never seen Wilbur(Ghostbur is a different story) interact romantically but we have seen how he treats the ones he’s supposed to love. Fundy is a perfect example. I could go on and on about how Wilbur gave Tommy more attention because Tommy was always willing to stay under Wilbur while Fundy always tried to go against him but that’s a post we’ve all seen a hundred times(in all fairness, very good posts). I present you another outlook: Wilbur neglects Fundy because he sees too much of himself in him. Like, oh I don’t know, Fundys want for control and authority. He wants attention because he’s just as much of a showman as his dad.

And Wilbur can never share the stage. He is incapable of it, his thinking is too black and white. Regardless, his relationship with both Fundy and Tommy(towards the end) showcase how manipulative and abusive narcissists often are. Now notice how pretty Wilbur tries to make Pogtopia? I know towards the end he was fine to let all those buttons litter the place but think before that. You could argue that Wilbur worked so hard on it because he wanted a cosy place to stay for him and Tommy but it simply isn’t true.

We know this because when Technoblade tries to put railings around the stairs Wilbur breaks them down. He wasn’t intentionally being malicious, you’ve got to understand that narcissists just never think about anyone but themselves. He simply didn’t care if Tommy or Techno( or tubbo who eventually did)fell off the stairs and hurt themselves. It didn’t matter. The railing just didn’t go with his aesthetic. Wilbur made Pogtopia so nice so that he could feel in control.

He did it to convince himself that it was some nice vacation home instead of a stone prison being used as a fugitive hide out. He was absolutely delusional.

Inability to take responsibility:

Right away I bet you can see how this lines up with Ghostbur, huh? It ties back to black and white thinking, as well. His famous phrase ‘indepenance or death’, calling everyone in Manberg traitors because they hadn’t immediately dropped everything to join Pogtopia, and how he kept making destroying L’manberg the final option. He knew from the beginning that he was going to destroy it. The second he built the button room the countrys fate was sealed. Wilbur is never wrong.

He knows what’s best for his country. But here’s the thing: Wilbur has always done things indirectly or through someone else. He does this to avoid direct criticism. Criticism cripples narcissists, it is their worst fear. But blowing up L’manberg would leave no room for anything else. It would be Wilburs fault and no one else’s.

That’s why he has Phil kill him. It wasn’t out of regret or shame, it was one last act of selfishness. He left them with crater for a country and didn’t even say goodbye. And even in his final moments it was “they all want you to, look at them, they want me dead”. He was a coward and died like one. He died to try and escape criticism and responsibility. But death has a funny way of catching you off guard.

Some final symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder before we move into the Ghostbur section:

React with rage or contempt and try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior

Have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior

Experience major problems dealing with stress and adapting to change

Have secret feelings of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliation

(This isn’t an official definition but Dr. Ramani Durvasula says that Narcissists are characterized by lack of empathy and deep insecurity. Keep that in mind.)

Ghostbur:

Ghostbur to me is very child like. Ghostbur pulls some pranks but is never intentionally malicious, just works his hardest to make everyone happy. He is innocent and playful and doesn’t like to talk about serious things. We could see him as Wilbur back when he was a little kid. Before the effects of abuse start to kick in. Everyone says that Phil is canonically neglectful, I’m not sure where this comes from but I believe it.

As childlike as he is, it isn’t like he’s the ghost version of kid Wilbur. Wilbur was an adult when he died. He’s so childlike because that’s what Wilbur was on the inside; a child who never matured properly. L’manchild takes a whole different meaning now lmao. Ghostbur is Wilbur without the walls he puts in place to protect himself. That’s why he’s cold all the time: he’s finally being exposed to all the things he tried to hide from.

Wilbur acts like a child throughout majority of his time on the SMP. He gets angry when he doesn’t get his way, expects everyone to kiss his ass and take care of him, and throws tantrums when all he should’ve done was compromise(the way people blame George or Quakity for Schlatt getting elected but Wilbur could’ve just taken down the American-ban). And doesn’t that sound just like the points I made earlier? Ghostbur isn’t the sad alter ego of Wilbur that some try to paint him out to be, he’s literally just Wilbur without the bullshit. He wasn’t the father of a nation he was an abused kid who never grew up. He ran from his problems to the very last second but now he doesn’t have a choice.

That is Ghostburs unfinished business. He must finally allow himself to be wrong. Only then will he be able to move on. And shit, with the way he keeps forgetting the bad stuff he’s done, perhaps he isn’t meant to. Perhaps this is supposed to be his hell and he’ll be trapped in constant pain for all of eternity. It would make sense wouldn’t it?

Death was like: hah, you want to act like you did nothing wrong? Fine, I’ll help you out.

That’s the problem with black and white thinking. Too much of anything will eventually become bad for you. Ghostbur is gonna realize that he can’t float around L’manberg for the rest of time and actually accept the fact that maybe everything is his fault. Atleast Wilbur actually got his wish, I suppose. Dead men can’t take responsibility. Dead men can only exist in hell forever or let go and move on.

#dream smp #fundy mcyt #wilbur soot #wilbur corruption arc #jschlatt #lmanberg #pogtopia #ghostbur #someone should pay me for this

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nofive · 3 years

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Five’s Bedroom

I have done a headcanon about brief observations I have made on Five’s bedroom before. I have also talked about things in his bedroom in a few other headcanons. But this will be delving into the canon state of Five’s childhood room, and his area in the Apocalypse to get a sense for how Five is as a person and a bit more of what he was like as a child.

Also fair warning, this post is long, and their are lots of big images. If you want, I am tagging this post with a special tag “Five’s Bedroom Meta” so that you can block it if you do not wish to scroll through it on your dash. All images that have adjusted brightness was purely to enhance the background of the image.

Like with everything I may add on to this as time goes by.

The bare bones, no deep diving yet ( Five’s Childhood Room )

Based off multiple images from the Making of TUA book, the show itself, and Aidan’s behind the scenes pictures I’ve put together a very basic floor plan of Five’s room ( please don’t make fun of my handwriting ). I don’t know about y’all but I feel like Five’s door needs to be at a til like Allison and Luther’s. But its not. So this floor plan basically gives a layout of his room in general. Its not to scale obviously, but it gives us a good starting off point. One thing I would like to note, that I think is only applicable to Five’s room as that there are two doors much like Reginald’s office, which I will touch on a bit later. Not drawn are the at least four lamps, one on his desk, one on the small bookshelf by his bed, and one on his nightstand, he has at least two sconces one on the wall near the closet, and one on the wall near the blue chair, he also has a main light fixture with at least three bulbs. But it is simply his closet, a very small closet at that.

Five’s bedroom has two windows, one that leads to a fire escape, which is next to his bed on the wall with the slanted roof. Both windows have radiators beneath them that Five utilizes as shelving. On the slanted wall side of his room Five’s bed is pushed not quite into the corner as he has a small bookshelf there that has more toys on it than books, and has a chest at the foot of his bed, and then he has his bookshelf which due to the slanted wall has the appearance of a built in.

Five’s desk and desk chair are on the same wall as his closet, though his desk chair being on wheels can move about. Above the desk are a set of shelves, Luther’s room has something very similar, with a set of towels and his toiletries. Five’s towels are blue, Luther’s appear to be tan or brown. If I had to guess all the siblings have different colors of towels. Next to his desk in between it and the bookshelf is a basket that appears to have a white board, and a fireman’s hat. There is also a possible laundry basket on the other side of his desk closer to the closet.

On the wall that has the main door to his room you have his wardrobe or armoire. we know thanks to Klaus that this houses jackets, possibly that snazzy coat and scarf from the bank as well as various toys namely baseballs. I know there is a baseball bat in his room but I cannot find a picture of it. Also I should note, I have no idea what is rapped in that white sheet looking thing.

On the other side of the door we have his dresser. The door funnily enough has a window up top sort of akin to an office door implying that Five’s room did in fact used to be an office. In fact the way it’s styled makes it seem like it could be a 1920s styled Private Investigator office. The dresser has a dart board above it that he takes down to write his equations and then puts it back up despite not putting anything else back on the walls. In front of the dress and the second window is a blue chair that we see Delores occupy while Grace patches up his Shrapnel wound she is sitting on his blue desk chair. Next to the radiator under the window we have Five’s nightstand.

The walls of Five’s bedroom are all painted a minty green color. So is all the triming including the the window seal ledges. The only non-painted areas are the bricks under the slanted roof/wall of his room and the boarder wallpaper.

The Deep Dive

So that takes us around his room, now lets actually delve into those pictures and what we see in them. So lets start at the beginning with the closet. To my knowledge Five is the only one with a closet in his room, and a second door. I only bring this up because the parallels and similarities between Five and Reginald is very obvious. And we know Reginald’s office has two doors. I just think that is interesting, not to mention Five’s bedroom was very likely an old office based on how The Academy is multiple buildings together. I should also note that based on the scene when Five is escaping onto the fire escape the window that is not on the slanted wall portion of his room shouldn’t have light coming into it because another building butts up to it.

Five’s bedroom is actually quite large accented with blue of varying shades from the carpet to his main comforter, to his desk chair, pillows, curtains, and his secondary chair. All the wood in his room is a light walnut color. And his doors are painted this minty green color. His second comforter looks to be navy, white, and red plaid. The fact that he has a second comforter that is used means not only has Grace changed his sheets, but he likely has slept in them, which means he likely did sleep. I only say its second comforter and not a blanket because we know Five has a chest at the foot of his bed with a blanket on it that could have been used. The chest likely has his extra bedding in it though. On Five’s bedside table he has a stack of what appears to be text books, but they seem more like workbooks of some sort. So think like SAT prep books. He also has a set of what appears to be five novels on his nightstand, and some sort of CD player or maybe a dehumidifier.

The blanket as you can see has planets, a moon, and a spaceship on it, which is pretty on par for things that Five likes. All over his room, and in these images you can see images of robots on his walls. Particularly you can see comic drawings of robots. He has a rock-em sock-em robot poster on his wall. He even has a robot on his bookshelf by his desk. Five has a fascination with robots. Which could foreshadow his relationship with Delores, and perhaps something of his relationship with Grace, liking wanting to know how she works. Also foreshadowing of Five and Delores is quite literally in the wallpaper boarder above the chair rail which has a kid pulling a red wagon with a mannequin in them.

Additionally we see lots of building blocks particularly on the bookshelf next to Five’s bed. Five is very hands on when it comes to his hobbies. He has means of transportation all over his room which could make sense given his power, but it could also give him a connection to Luther seeing as Luther also has airplanes and cars in his room. Five has boats, and cars all over his room. Further he also has lots of construction toys including an excavator and a cement truck. On top of his wardrobe he has a sail boat and a covered wagon. He also has a poster of a motorcyle or moped on his wall. If Five had stayed behind he would have been the first to learn how to drive for sure.

From first glance Five’s room seems super organized. But when you actually look at it, its not. Books in particular are stacked where he can stack them. The binders on his desk are initially upside down, and someone put them right side up, I would guess Luther as he is messing around Five’s desk to look for things. Five works in an organized chaos we see this from his equations as he writes over the boarder and such We later see this echoed in his Apocalypse home.

When it comes to other things Five has a few knick knacks all of them are travel based, saved for one. I’ve mentioned the toys. The one I’m referring to can be seen on his desk and I believe it is a nautical instrument used to help measure distance and time or speed. I could be wrong. But it is on Five’s desk along with what appears to be homework of some sort in the trays. He’s also got a stapler on his desk which I simply find ironic.

The one knick knack he has that isn’t related specifically to travel is a wooden basket that has busted up watches. Pocket watches, wrist watches, etc. They are old, and are not digital. My theory on this is that at one point he attempted to use the watch to magnify his power, particularly that of Time Travel. But they kept breaking, but it only fueled his theory that he could do it. This is also a call back to the comic where Five as a kid is always shown to have a pocket watch.

Briefly on his closet, which is best pictured above. It is small. Also it appears to only hold his uniforms, which by the way he is going through them makes him seem like he should have more clothes and he can’t find them. This implies Five does have civvies or street clothes but they have been lost over time which would make Five’s “Shit” make much more sense. Its not that he only has uniforms as his option, its that he can’t find his civilian clothes.

Last but not least the dart board. I do have a headcanon about it. But the fact that you can see the equations go behind the dart board on the wall means he put it back up. Five in the original pilot script had a love of knives quite like Diego. My guess is the dart board is a call to that. But we also know Five is super competitive and I think he tries to get accurate with throwing knives to beat Diego. Also we know that Five has Diego’s knife holster in the apocalypse so Five liking knives is not just a original pilot script thing.

The Comparison ( his Apocalypse Home Base )

Five’s apocalypse home base ironically takes on many similar characteristics of Five’s bedroom. Meaning the core of who Five is has not changed. He has a love for learning, partially cause he is literally creating new math, but he has a desk still, and he still stacks books haphazardly. He also has his chalkboard which seems to be Five’s favorite way of doing math. I theorize its because he’s working on things that are so large he needs more room than paper can provide. Also paper is hard to come by in the apocalypse, at least blank paper is because he uses Vanya’s book. Five has a habit of placing important things on places he can easily see and find. Such as the probability map ending above his bed, and the equation on his chalk board likely ending up in his copy of Vanya’s book.

Final Thoughts

So what are my final thoughts? I think the making of TUA book has got Five pinned all wrong. Five’s room is sparse because he left early, but not because he didn’t have hobbies or time to decorate it. He clearly did. Five like athletics at least baseball, and he had an interest in robots, comics, and transportation. He also likes building as he has blocks and potentially even legos. The transportation could be an extension of him getting to know his power, maybe. But we know Luther is very similar with transportation just of the aerospace kind and we know that’s likely not related to his power ( unless you include my headcanon that his main power is actual gravity manipulation ). Five had interests and was even starting to personalize his room before he left, he also had an imagination seeing as the fireman’s helmet is still readily out and available to play which plays into Delores being part of his active imagination and becoming the imaginary friend he needs to stay somewhat sane in the apocalypse.

Five’s room tells us of a boy who was active, and had interests, and he still has a liking for those interests as we see him unable to help himself and play with one of the trucks during the show. It gives us a brief look into the boy that we truly know very little about. Because while we have so much of his story displayed for us, we have so little of what he was like before. He has toys and things all over his room with no real rhyme or reason as to why things are placed in certain areas. It makes sense to him obviously, but it is not the key organized thing you would expect. If it was all his trucks would be in one place for example.

We also can see Five is a bit more chaotic than his room implies on first glance. From both the Apocalypse and his kid bedroom Five has a habit of stacking books a bit haphazardly and storing things also a bit haphazardly as seen by the crate on top of his wardrobe, and the fact that he has stuff just piled into said wardrobe that comes tumbling out when Klaus does.

When it comes to his room location I believe it is on the third floor above Allison and Luther’s, on the second, and Klaus, Vanya, and Diego’s on the lower floor. Since we don’t know where Ben’s room is and the door across from Five’s is always shut, I do think that that is likely where Ben’s room was. But according to Five there are 42 Bedrooms in the place so it could be anywhere really.

Five’s room, like Five himself hides behind a layer of sparsity. You have to give him more than a cursory glance to know what is really going to get him deep down.

#headcanon: a single drop of coffee #five's bedroom meta

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

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Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 5

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

“Why aren’t the rivets with the rivet gun?”

“Because they’re fasteners. Not a tool. And you think you’ve got it hard? I think he’s arranged the sealants by… viscosity?”

“Viva what?” Launchpad slammed the doors to the tool cupboard he’d been riffling through, and moved onto the next. Despite the organisation of their parents’ hanger, finding the right parts they needed, without leaving anything behind and as quickly as possible, proved a challenge. “And what ever happened to using chewing gum?”

“Wrong viscosity. Hurry it up. We’ve got to get out there, rivet back up the strut, seal the wing and let the sealant dry…”

“It can dry as we tow it. This would be easier if we could just bring it straight back and fix it in the hanger.”

“Do you want to explain what happened?”

Launchpad gritted his teeth. “Finally, fasteners! And no, I don’t.” He jammed his hand into the box containing the right sized rivets, and pulled out a fistful. A couple bounced out and found their way into nearby containers. He stepped back and pushed the rivets around in his hands, counting to make sure he had enough along with a couple spares. “I wish you’d never convinced me to fly through that damned canyon.”

“You flew where?!”

Launchpad spun around and threw himself back into the cupboard, slamming the doors closed behind him. The entire thing rocked under the impact of his weight. Inside, the clatter of hundreds of airborne fasteners bounced around and off the metal walls. The rivets he’d held scattered across the floor.

Ripcord McQuack’s gaze trailed one of the unfortunate rivets across the floor, then snapped back up to Launchpad. “You went to… the canyon?”

Loopey sidled up beside him. “Told you. Deja vu.”

“Launchpad! Answer me!”

“I… yes?” What else was he supposed to say?

Ripcord’s chest heaved. “I told you kids you were never allowed to fly there.”

“Dad, calm down,” said Loopey. “We’re not kids anymore, remember?”

“Then how come I find you two riffling through everything like a couple teenagers and creating a mess?”

Launchpad exchanged a look with his sister.

“Launchpad!”

“Why am I the one getting yelled at? We just had a… minor…”

Ripcord looked around the hanger. “Loopey, where is your plane?”

“At the bottom of the canyon. Its fine,” she said quickly. “We’re just going to have to tow it out.”

“You’re here for five minutes and you take your sister…”

Loopey pushed past her brother. “Launchpad didn’t take me anywhere. I’ve been to the canyon before. You know, when I come and visit and go out flying by myself and decide where I’m going like an adult is supposed to?”

Ripcord swallowed hard. “You’ve… Launchpad could’ve, you could’ve… don’t you think I told you not to go there for a reason?”

“Yes, but what reason?” Loopey threw her arms out wide. Launchpad let her talk. She was getting through to Dad a lot better than he would’ve. He was taking her more seriously too. Launchpad should’ve been mad but he just wanted this to be over. “You’ve told us not to go there, but you have never, ever, told us why. We’re adults now. If you don’t want us to do something just tell us the reason. We’ll listen to you. But you can’t expect us to do what you say, with no explanation.”

“Okay, fine, I’m overreacting. Just tell me what happened.”

“I broke a strut on the canyon wall. We figured we…”

Ripcord paled. “What?”

Launchpad wasn’t letting Loopey get in trouble for this one. He stepped up and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Dad, it’s not her fault. I got too close on top of her; she didn’t have room to move.”

“You were right on top of each other? What the hell were you doing in there?”

Launchpad swallowed. “Racing.”

Ripcord squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “You have no idea how stupid that was. Anything goes wrong in there and there is nothing you can do…”

“That’s not true. Loopey landed the plane just fine, and…”

“Enough! Just forget it. If you’re going to act like children, you’re both bloody grounded.”

Launchpad rolled his eyes. “You can’t actually ground us anymore.”

“Want to bet? I’m not talking about sending you to your rooms. I mean literally. These are mine and your mother’s planes. We decide who flys them. And for the rest of this visit that doesn’t include either of you.” Ripcord stomped over to the jeep and began rearranging the tools the siblings had already haphazardly packed. “Don’t worry about your mess. I’ll clean it up myself.”

Launchpad felt heat rise in his cheeks, but he kept his beak firmly shut. He was way too old to be grounded. But arguing would just make him sound even more childish. He was done with that for this visit.

Beside him, Loopey folded her arms across her chest. She also looked a little flushed. “What the actual heck? We’ve all flown in tight spaces plenty of times before, done dangerous stunts... And I thought I’d never have to hear another grounded pun again.”

Launchpad watched his father rifle through the jeep with his back to his kids. He was going to go get that plane all by himself. However bad he was reacting, that wasn’t his fault. And however innocent it had been, racing through that spot had been pretty dumb. “I’ll go out with him. It’s kind of my fault.”

“Not completely.”

“I know,” he smiled at his sister faintly. “Speed demon. Go on, don’t worry about this. I should spend some time with him anyway.”

“Thanks, big brother. Good luck.”

Launchpad sidled over to his father. “Dad, I’ll come with you. You’re going to need help.”

Ripcord straightened, rubbed at the corner of his eye, then turned to face his son. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You want to fly like a maniac, that’s your business. But when you’re flying with someone else you’ve got a responsibility for them too, especially if they’re family.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Do you want my help or not?”

Ripcord swallowed. “It’s going to be a long drive. Sure you want to spend that amount of time with me?”

That look in his father’s eye. It was trying to be anger, but there was something deeper, more desperate. He’d definitely put this off way too long. “Yeah, Dad.”

***

The jeep bounced and rattled across the dirt track as they started the trek out to the canyon. Ripcord drove, one hand on the steering wheel. He was the first to break the silence. “I should probably let you know, Gosalyn was mucking around with… Launchpad… she hit her head. She’s okay!” he said quickly, when Launchpad jerked up from his slouch in the passenger seat. “I’m pretty sure her dad can take care of her. Just thought you should know.”

Launchpad huffed. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done it. What did Launchpad do?”

Ripcord shrugged. “Whatever it was he felt pretty bad about it. He wouldn’t have meant to hurt her. Kids… stuff happens… it’s not his fault.”

“As long as she’s okay.”

“You really care about those two, don’t you?”

Launchpad groaned. “We’re not dating!”

Ripcord smirked. “I know. I think your mother does too. But can you blame her? You’ve been so secretive.” The smirk slipped from his beak. “Me and your Mom, we’re sorry for lying to you. It’s just that we haven’t seen you in so long. And you’ll talk to your Mom on the phone. But you always seem to manage to hang up before I get there. And, well, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something anyway and I wanted to do it in person.”

“I’m not trying to avoid you. It’s just… complicated…”

Ripcord glanced across at him, and Launchpad dropped his gaze to his lap. His father smiled faintly. “It’s okay. I’ve got a pretty good idea what’s going on.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t.” How was he supposed to tell his parents about Darkwing Duck? He had to tell them something. But he hadn’t talked to DW about this, so he didn’t even know what would be okay to share. He didn’t want to put his friend in a spot. He had his secret identify for a reason.

“Launchpad, I get, it really, I…” Ripcord huffed. “Okay. You don’t think it was weird for us having a guy that looked exactly like you crash onto our doorstep, bleeding and begging for help?”

The Negaverse Launchpad. It was certainly a safer topic. “Yeah, what happened to him?”

“He crashed in here with a broken arm, near exhaustion. Told us, once he’d woken up, that he’d gotten involved with air pirates. He was a bit of a mess. When he woke up he was throwing punches at doctors and I thought I was going to have to sit on him or something. Until your mother calmed him down. I guess he didn’t expect us to take him to a hospital and all that attention actually scared him. Since he left Saint Canard he’s just been butting around, not knowing what to do with himself. He didn’t just come to us because he was hurt. He was at the end of his rope and he needed someplace where he’d feel safe, with people he knew he could trust.”

Launchpad had set him up with a plane but then he’d left him to his own devices. Those two weeks they’d spent together, his double had been an wreck for most of it, as he’d progressively worked up the courage to tell him more stuff about Negaduck. He’d only started to pull himself out of it once the plane had started to come together. It had been naive to assume he’d be alright out here by himself. “I told him to stay away from Saint Canard. I guess he thought he had no place else he could turn. Guess I didn’t help him as much as I thought.”

“Son, he can’t stop talking about how much you helped him and how you made him that aeroplane. Its weird, one moment he’s trying to fight your mother’s plants, and then he’s getting all excited about that scrap heap you built. You helped him plenty. But he was on our doorstep, hurt… I think, at that point, seeing him like that, we…” he gulped, then shook himself a little. “We thought of you. We just went into full blown parenting mode. But after, well, we started asking questions. He told us about the Negaverse.”

Launchpad nodded. “And Negaduck?”

Ripcord’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Oh, yeah. And Negaduck. I tell you, if I ever get my hands on that manipulative piece of work…”

“Dad, do not mess with Negaduck.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Follow what I’m saying here. Launchpad explained where he came from. That he’s your twin from another universe. He told us he works for Negaduck, and that Negaduck is the twin of Darkwing Duck, you know, infamous vigilante from Saint Canard.”

“Yeah…”

Ripcord sighed. “He had to explain how you guys met. Launchpad, I know you’ve been flying a plane for Darkwing Duck.”

It was everything he’d been trying to figure out how to explain and he hadn’t known how to tell his father and then it was just… done… over… and… he still didn’t know if too much had been revealed. Launchpad sunk into his seat and put his face in his hands.

“That’s why you haven’t come to visit, isn’t it? Look, I get some of its got to be secret stuff. But if this Darkwing Duck has been bullying you, or…”

“Wait, wait,” Launchpad jerked up in his seat. “He only told you that I worked for Darkwing… that’s it?”

“That you were his pilot. I think he caught on pretty quickly that we actually had no idea that’s what you were doing. So, yeah, that’s all he said. And I get that there’s identities that need to remain secret, assuming you even know that…”

Some of the tension left Launchpad’s shoulders. The Negaverse Launchpad had to tell them something. He should’ve figured that. But it looked like he’d been smart enough to keep Drake out of it. His parents knew about Darkwing Duck. They just didn’t know he was also living with the guy and doing his groceries.

“Launchpad, look at me.” His father grabbed him by the shoulder, his fingers digging in, and the jeep rumbled to a halt. “You don’t have to share everything about this. It’d be the same if you were working for the government, or any other place where there might be confidentiality agreements, or… we don’t expect that of you. But I just want to know one thing.”

Launchpad put his hand over his father’s, if only to loosen his grip. “Sure, Dad.”

“The whole Negaverse thing, there’s parallels to it.”

“You mean how everyone’s opposite?”

Ripcord shook his head. “No. Not opposites. I see a lot of you in that other Launchpad. I think you did as well. And, I guess that’s why I’m worried. You and Launchpad. Negaduck and Darkwing. You’ve both worked for them. But, some of the stories Launchpad has told me about Negaduck…”

“He told them to me as well. I know.”

“I just want to know if Darkwing has ever hurt you. Because if he has I’ll pack up my shotgun right now and…”

“What? No…” Launchpad pulled back. “he’s not Negaduck.”

“He hasn’t forbid you to come see us? Or just made you feel that you can’t? Or threatened to hurt you if you reveal to much about him, or… anything, Launchpad, you just have to tell us.”

“Dad, I said no!” said Launchpad, a growl creeping into his voice. “DW’s a good guy, and besides, he’s my friend. He’s difficult, and he’s got an ego, but he’d never do anything like that.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything about working with him before?”

“He never told me I couldn’t. I just… I never brought it up properly with him.” Launchpad slumped back in his seat as he heard his own words. Yeah, DW was difficult. And any conversation about him telling his parents anything would result in DW stressing out, probably overreacting a bit, but… he would eventually come around. And he would’ve told him exactly how much information he was comfortable for his sidekick to share. He’d never actually stopped him. In fact, every time his mother had called, Drake had always pushed Launchpad to talk to her.

“Oh. Okay.” Ripcord put the jeep in gear and pulled off. After a few moments, he spoke again. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk to your dad about what you’re doing anymore. But, we’re still proud of you, okay? Even without the superhero sidekick stuff. Drake and Gosalyn… being a single parent is tough. The fact you’re helping Drake around the house, and being there for Gosalyn, not a lot of people would do that. And after how bad the other Launchpad hurt you,” he reached out, and gently squeezed Launchpad arm, “to still go and help him when no one else would, that took a lot of guts.”

Launchpad rested his head against the window, unable to look at his father, and watched the rocks and withered trees rumble by. Sure, he’d been there for Drake, and Gosalyn, and the other Launchpad. But he hadn’t tried hard enough to just do something as simple as have a difficult conversation with DW, so they could get their story straight, and he could come see his Mom and Dad.

“I just… wish I didn’t have to lie to you to see you. I miss you.”

Launchpad squeezed his eyes shut tight.

***

The doctor arrived within half an hour, pronounced Gosalyn ‘mostly fine’, and then told them to keep an eye on her and not let her nap until it was evening. Then Mrs McQuack pulled Launchpad aside and asked him what had really happened. He told her the truth. About the potato gun anyway. He wasn’t really lying, leaving out Negaduck. Negaduck hadn’t had anything to do with what happened to Gosalyn.

Birdie patted him on the shoulder and told him he needed to ‘be careful with that thing’, especially if he was playing with a kid, and that maybe it was best if he left it alone until the Mallards left. Heck, she’d been angrier about her stinking rose bushes. But that was probably more to do with the mood he’d been in at the time.

Truth be told, Launchpad had expected everyone’s reaction to what he’d done to Gosalyn to be much worse. Even Drake, though he’d been shooting him glares all day, had eventually left him alone in front of the television with his daughter. Although, Launchpad was pretty sure that was because he’d finally got stressed out sitting with his daughter most of the day, and couldn’t take watching the cartoons she’d pronounced were the only sure fire way to keep her awake.

It was the longest, most stressful afternoon of Launchpad’s life. And not because Gosalyn kept trying to bully him into bringing her snacks. Negaduck’s ultimatum hung in his mind like heavy fog. It wasn’t that he was conflicted about the choice he had made. He just wasn’t sure he was strong enough to pull it off.

Launchpad tapped his foot on the ground; he needed a cigarette. Mrs McQuack had been trying to get him to cut down and the one he usually had in the morning had lately been enough, but not today. Besides, he’d left them all in a heap outside his shack after Gosalyn had startled him.

“You’re as bad as Launchpad.”

“I am Launchpad.”

“No, I mean the real one. You’re shaking the whole sofa.”

“I’m keeping you awake.”

“Hello, that’s what the cartoons are for?” Gosalyn waved at the television.

“This drivel? It’s unrealistic. You hit a cat with a hammer it doesn’t make little stars, it just…” Launchpad folded his arms with a harrumph.

Gosalyn leaned forward to check no one was in the next room, then lowered her voice. “You’re worried about Negaduck. We should tell Dad.”

“We can’t. Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of it.” Launchpad stood to his feet. It was nearing sundown; Negaduck’s decision time. But first, he was going to collect some tools from the hanger. He’d give Negaduck his decision alright, and he was going to make it bloody clear.

Gosalyn glared up at him. “I should come with you. But I still feel a little dizzy so it might not be a good idea. Just be careful. If you get hurt, I’m going to be mad. And if you take too long, I’m telling Dad. I don’t care what I promised.”

Launchpad waited for a second. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’m going to do?”

“Is what you’re going to do appropriate to tell a kid… oh, are you going to hit him with a bat or something, or just punch his face in? Or, you know, worse?”

Launchpad huffed and rolled his eyes. “I meant about… he asked me to join him. He wants me to kill your dad. Which I already tried to do once.”

“But you were different then. And you told me that story…”

“I could’ve been lying.”

“I don’t think you’re smart enough to make up a story like that.”

“I…” Launchpad’s shoulders sagged. “Aw, kid. You know how many faces I’ve smashed in for calling me stupid?”

Gosalyn stood up on the sofa so she could look him in the eye. “I know he’s hurt you. But you can still beat him.”

Launchpad swallowed hard. Damn this kid. “How do you know that?”

Gosalyn grabbed him by the collar. “I know because you’re Launchpad McQuack! And you’re not going to let anybody hurt your family!” Her beak was pressed almost to his, and she glared into his eyes so earnestly, almost angrily.

Launchpad’s gaze hardened. “Cover for me? They won’t be suspicious. I do this sometimes; wander off at night.”

“I’ve got your back.”

“Good on ya, kiddo.”

Launchpad made his way over to the McQuack’s hanger. A crowbar was always a good go-to. But maybe he should find something bigger, and sharper. You never knew with Negaduck. Sometimes it didn’t matter what weapon you had.

Inside, the lights were on. Launchpad made his way straight to the tool board. At first, he’d found the place nauseatingly tidy. But after helping the McQuack’s out with some repairs, he had to admit, it was nice to be able to find stuff. That would’ve been the last thing he needed today, stressing about digging through tools when he just wanted to grab what he wanted and go deal with Negaduck.

There was the ping of metal on metal. Launchpad spun around and brandished the crowbar.

“Oh, Launchpad, sorry, I thought you realised I was in here.” Loopey sat on the floor, surrounded by a half dozen containers filled with bolts and fasteners. The noise had just been her pegging a bolt into one of the half filled containers, and it was absolutely ridiculous that it had startled him. He really was on edge. She jumped to her feet, picked her way amongst the containers, and came over to him. “I was hoping we’d get a chance to chat.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Loopey frowned at the crowbar. “Now, what are you doing with that?”

“Er…” He’d almost forgotten that most people in this dimension didn’t routinely carry around weapons, and here he was waving a crowbar in the McQuack’s daughter’s face. Still, most people in both dimensions wouldn’t bounce right up to him when he had a weapon in hand. “Um… was going to knock some… heads off flowers. Sometimes I need to blow off steam.”

“Ah,” said Loopey, as if that had been a perfectly rational answer. “Just don’t mess with anything in Mom’s garden.”

Launchpad winced. “Yeah, I’ll only make that mistake once.”

She had her arms folded, looking at him, trying to figure him out. She seemed far too calm. His own sister would’ve been swinging her fist in his face, just like the last time he’d seen her.

“You burned your planes? For him.”

He’d caught her fist. Laughed.

“I am so glad Mom and Dad aren’t here to see what you’ve become.”

“They were weak. Negaduck isn’t.” And then he’d thrown that punch right back.

Loopey lightly brushed his sleeve. “Hey, you okay?”

Launchpad shook himself. He had to deal with Negaduck. But he wanted to talk to Loopey. It was just like what he’d felt with Gosalyn; he wanted to connect with her. It wouldn’t make up for anything with his own sister. But, shit. He missed her. “Er… what are you doing in here anyway?” Launchpad waved the crowbar towards the containers.

“Launchpad crashed into the cupboard, typical, and messed them all up. But he’s out with Dad and…” Loopey rubbed at her arm. “We crashed one of the planes. They’re out there now to bring it in… and… well, Dad seemed a bit upset. I didn’t want to leave this for him to clean up. So, you got a spunky little sister over in this Negaverse place?”

One who hated him so much he’d never be able to speak to her, like this, again. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

“Oh. What about your parents?”

Rougher around the edges then the McQuacks he’d spent the last two months with. Still good people, by Negaverse standards. He and his sister would’ve never hit each other like that when they’d been alive. You only fought if you’d both agreed you were sparring, because a family had to have some way to blow off steam when they were pissed at each other. Other people? Fine. If you knew you needed to smack them one you just did it. But not family. They were your backup, your protection. You treated them with some respect. “They’re dead.”

Loopey winced. “Oh, did this Negaduck guy…?”

Launchpad shook his head. “Nothing to do with him. The Negaverse is just a rough place.” And he’d actually been angry with them, just for not being tough enough to take on the air pirates that had challenged them for their air space. It had been ridiculously immature of him, and he’d figured that out, as he got older, before he even left the Negaverse. When things had come to a head, two planes had taken down nearly a dozen pirate fighter planes between them, until the pirates finally shot down the Negaverse’s Ripcord McQuack. And then Birdie McQuack had flown her plane straight into the main engine of the pirate airship and brought the whole thing down with her. What his parents had done had been borderline legendary.

But they were still dead. And Launchpad had decided that was because they hadn’t been strong enough. Despite how much they relied on and protected each other, when they’d been outnumbered, it wasn’t enough. Allying in yourself to just anyone, no matter how much you trusted them, was not enough. You needed to ally yourself to someone strong. Like the guy who had singlehandedly brought the chaotic and dangerous Negaverse to its knees and declared himself its ruler.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re Mom and Dad didn’t even know me. But they’ve been everything I needed right now. Them and your brother…” Launchpad gulped at the lump that had risen to his throat. Negaduck hadn’t given him the safety he’d been looking for. How he’d treated him had been a poor exchange for his protection. Then he’d come over here. And the McQuacks may not have had the strength he thought he needed, but they’d given him what Negaduck never had and didn’t ask for anything in return. Apart from refraining from ripping up their garden.

Now Negaduck was here to take that all away from him. Launchpad’s fist tightened around the crowbar.

“They’re pretty great, aren’t they? Look, if you want to talk some more, you don’t have to go assault plants. You could help me, er…” Loopey’s shoulders slumped. “Sort fasteners.”

Launchpad forced a smile. “Raincheck?”

“Pft. Coward.” Loopey blinked as she caught herself. “Um, sorry. I talk like this to my brother all the time. You realise this is very confusing, right?”

At least he wasn’t the only one getting mixed up feelings about his actual family mixed in with the ones he was starting to develop for this one. “Yeah, I get it. But we can talk later. I really just need to… blow off some steam.”

“Later.”

The Gator was parked outside. Launchpad swung himself in, grabbed the seatbelt, then let it slide back as he remembered he wasn’t riding with Mr McQuack. He put the machine in drive and tore down the hill as fast as he could.

They might not be his family. But he was attached. And for once, that no longer felt like a weakness. If only he’d worked that out back in the Negaverse with Gosalyn, and with his sister. He may have blown his chances back home, but he would not fail this time.

Negaduck was going to pay.

***

Chapter 6

#darkwing #darkwing duck #darkwing fanfiction #darkwing duck fanfiction #launchpad #negalaunchpad #nega launchpad #launchpad mcquack #negaduck #dwd #dwd91 #darkwing duck 1991 #disney ducks

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wolfprincesszola · 3 years

Text

Discord

Sometimes I wonder why I try to write when I, in fact, have writer’s block. I will never understand, but I’m doing it anyways. Living Tombstone is such a good artist and I recently came back to this song, so have this horribly put together song fic. Enjoy! ————– Summary: Tubbo feels something is wrong and as his presidency continues, he realizes that L’manberg is collapsing on itself.

Trigger Warnings: None

Content Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers

Reference: Discord (Remix) - The Living Tombstone (ft. Eurobeat Brony)

Read it at ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133694 ————– I'm not a fan of puppeteers But I've a nagging fear Someone else is pulling at the strings

Tubbo never liked manipulation. That was why he chose peace over everything. However, he knew that being a peacemaker was only going to hurt him in the end, which is why he was always looking out for anyone trying to control him.

He was lying awake in his bed when he decided it would do some good to get up. He got out, checking the time. Midnight. Everyone would be sleeping.

Thoughts were spinning through his mind and he just couldn’t get them out. Presidency came with that, he guessed.

He took a walk around L’manberg and the Dream SMP land before stopping by the infamous bench. The one where Tubbo and Tommy usually sat, listening to music.

He sat down, trying to wrap his thoughts. Why was there a part of him that was worried that someone would manipulate him and cause the fall of L’manberg? Presidency held a lot of power and manipulation wasn’t easy to detect. Tubbo could easily-

“Tubbo, what are you doing here?”

Tubbo jumped and looked back to see Technoblade.

“Technoblade?” His fear increased as he backed away from him, “What are you doing here?”

Something terrible is going down Through the entire town Wreaking anarchy and all that it brings

“I couldn’t sleep.” Technoblade admitted. “I have a feeling that something terrible is going to happen.”

He sat on the bench, offering the seat to Tubbo.

“You aren’t....you aren’t going to kill me, are you?” Tubbo asked, pulling out his sword.

Technoblade just snorted, “Tubbo, it’s the middle of the night. I have standards. If I was to kill you, it’d have to be flashy and in front of everyone. Otherwise, how would I get clout? And fear?”

Tubbo just relaxed, deciding to sit next to Techno. “What’s this terrible thing that you think is going to happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Techno sighed, “Look, I’m an anarchist and all. I dislike the fact that you guys literally built a government in front of me, literally betraying MY ideals and-”

“I get it, Techno.” Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Get to the point.”

“I have to give you facts for trying to restore L’manberg, despite all that. I’ve decided to try and give up my violent ways..but I know Dream isn’t. Dream’s angry at you guys.”

I can't sit idly No I can't move at all I curse the name The one behind it all

Tubbo felt his stomach churn. That is not at all what he wanted to hear.

“He’s power-hungry, Tubbo. And he’s not going to stop at any costs.”

“We have to do something about it! Techno, you said that-”

“I’m sorry, Tubbo, I can’t help you there. This is your own battle. I have my own to deal with. Just....watch out for my brother. I know he can be a bit....irrational sometimes and I wouldn’t want Tommy to ruin your progress with L’manberg.”

“Thank you, Blade.”

Technoblade just nodded.

Discord, I'm howling at the moon And sleeping in the middle Of a summer afternoon Discord, whatever did we do To make you take our world away?

Tubbo’s blood ran cold as soon as he heard of the obsidian walls surrounding L’manberg. When he realized it was because of Tommy, he knew that it had already happened.

Dream was the most powerful man on the server and Tommy had just given him power over L’manberg. Because of Tommy, Dream could cause the fall of L’manberg and it would be all Tubbo’s fault. Because he couldn’t have chosen a better vice president.

As Tubbo and Dream talked about what to do with Tommy, Tubbo realized something. Tommy was the only thing Dream didn’t have power over. And Tommy had just given Dream an ability to have power over him.

The only thing he could do was try and keep his best friend from hurting the nation even more.

Discord, are we your prey alone? Or are we just a stepping stone For taking back the throne? Discord, we won't take it any more So take your tyranny away

Tubbo felt his blood run cold as Tommy kept saying that he had power over Dream.

Tommy had reassured Tubbo plenty of times, but Tubbo couldn’t help but try to warn Tommy anyways.

He knew that Dream was pissed as Tommy ordered Dream to tear down the walls and he knew that Tommy had messed up when Dream had started to build the walls even higher.

“Tommy, okay, listen, you’ve fucked up this time.” Dream glared at his best friend.

Tubbo stayed quiet, but he gave Tommy a look. He told him not to push Dream and yet he did. Now, the whole nation would pay for it.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I don’t give a fuck about Spirit, okay? I don’t give a fuck about anything actually. I care about your disks. I care more about your disks than you do. That’s the only thing I care about in the server, actually. I don’t care about Spirit. Spirit was my horse. Died ages ago. I care about your disks because that’s what gives me power over you, and your friends, and everybody that you care about because you care about your disks more than anyone else here. So if you are not exiled from L’manberg, I will build these walls until they reach the sky. Don’t try and threaten me. I don’t care. I have lost-”

Tommy cut Dream off, trying to test what Dream had said and it had only made Dream even angrier. Tubbo couldn’t stop what was happening. All he could do was watch.

Dream gave Tubbo a deadline of three days to exile Tommy.

I'm fine with changing status quo But not in letting go Now the world is being torn apart A terrible catastrophe Played by a symphony What a terrifying work of art

When Dream left, everyone started to yell at each other. They were ripping each other at the throats.

Tommy saw Tubbo was being quiet and Tommy sighed, “Tubbo, he’s only doing this to get under your skin so you turn on me, alright?”

Tubbo finally decided to speak up because he was tired of trying to keep things nice and neat between him and his best friend. “No, actually, I think you made it very clearly what he’s doing. He’s doing this to get your disks because he wants them.”

“But the reason he’s doing this is because he knows that he-”

“You had one job. You couldn’t do one thing for me. You couldn’t do one. Just one thing and it was for your own good.”

Tubbo was hurt. He thought Tommy, for once, could help him with something. But no. It was always about his disks. Never about the good for L’manberg or for Tubbo. Tommy would see the world burn if it meant that he could have his disks back.

Tubbo sighed, “So you know what? If the roles were reversed, as you said, yeah, yeah you probably wouldn’t exile me. Because I would’ve actually listened to you and done what you said! Maybe have a couple ounces of respect! You’ve messed this up for no one but yourself.”

Tommy just looked away from Tubbo, not facing him.

Then, Tubbo didn’t know what hit him, but he let the anger take over him. “Selfish.”

Tommy stayed silent, but his head whipped towards him.

L’manberg would be torn apart because of their friendship. Even though Dream may have started it, Tubbo had to be the one to seal the deal if he wanted the nation to stay together.

L’manberg was crumbling on itself. A terrifying future without the best friends by each other’s sides.

I can't sit idly No, I can't move at all I curse the name The one behind it all

“I have come to the decision that it would be best for the nation...the most logical thing to do is for Tommy to be exiled.” Tubbo had told everyone.

He saw the shift in everyone’s face as they were in bewilderment. But Tubbo couldn’t let Dream control L’manberg. It was best for the nation if Tommy couldn’t hurt Dream from here.

Dream may have been controlling them, but Tubbo knew that the only way for the nation to survive, Tommy had to go. And there was nothing that anyone could do. Because Dream was the most powerful person on the server.

Discord, I'm howling at the moon And sleeping in the middle Of a summer afternoon Discord, whatever did we do To make you take our world away?

Tubbo missed Tommy. It had been so long since he saw his best friend. But he couldn’t go against Dream. Not at the moment. Not while L’manberg was still just recovering from the last war.

What had Tubbo done though? To deserve the backlash he did for exiling his best friend?

Was he a bad person for wanting to do what was right for the nation? Should he have cared about Tommy more?

Discord, are we your prey alone Or are we just a stepping stone For taking back the throne? Discord, we won't take it any more So take your tyranny away

Tubbo knew he couldn’t visit Tommy. Not when Dream was currently helping L’manberg when they needed it most.

So he stayed away for his nation.

Then, Ghostbur had come to him with a surprise.

“I know you’ve been sad. And you’re having a rough time with yourself right now and you have the idea that you’ve done something wrong. I just want you to know that it’s okay. Tommy will enjoy his vacation, it’s just new to him.”

“It’s just an adjustment.” Tubbo agreed.

“It’s new to him, this whole vacation and it’s one of those things where, you know what they say about a vacation, is where the best part is when you’re coming home and getting back to your old house. So the longer that he’s out, the more adjusted he gets to his new vacation home and the better it’ll be when he comes home.”

“You’re looking out for him.” Tubbo had stated.

Ghostbur had nodded. “I know you and him...you know, you’ve got each other, always. So I wanted to make sure that even when you’re distant, you two still know where each other are, so I got you this.”

He had given Tubbo a compass. One that Tubbo appreciated and soon would hold it close to him all the time. That way, Tubbo always knew where Tommy was.

Tubbo missed Tommy, and he knew that Dream was manipulating him. He just...couldn’t do anything about it. He was powerless if he wanted L’manberg to continue to survive.

Discord, I'm howling at the moon And sleeping in the middle Of a summer afternoon Discord, whatever did we do To make you take our world away?

It was apparent that the country was tearing itself from the inside the moment that the Butcher Army had went to hunt down Technoblade.

When Tubbo had arrived with the other three members, he noticed Technoblade had been ready for him. When Technoblade had surrendered, Tubbo knew that Quackity had gone too far, but it was too late.

When Quackity had whispered in his ear to just execute Technoblade, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel compelled. After all, Quackity was part of his cabinet. Why would he betray Tubbo?

So Tubbo did what Quackity said. If Tubbo had seen through Quackity’s manipulation, he gave no notice to it.

L’manberg was destined to fall.

Discord, are we your prey alone Or are we just a stepping stone For taking back the throne Discord, we won't take it any more So take your tyranny away

Tubbo wanted to see Tommy. That was all he wanted to do after what had happened. When he got there, all he saw was the wreckage of what once was Logstedshire....and a tall pillar.

“Surely not.” He muttered to himself as he looked around.

After looking around some more, he realized there was no other conclusion.

He sat in the wreckage, quiet.

It was clear now. Dream was power-hungry. He got rid of the only thing that was resisting him and it was Tubbo’s fault.

No one heard the pained scream come from Tubbo.

#dream smp #dream smp roleplay #tubbo #tommyinnit #ghost wilbur #ghostbur #tommy and tubbo #quackity #powerhungry quackity #technoblade #technoblade and tommy are brothers #dream #can i get clout from this #am i a good writer #cw swearing #cw spoilers #spoilers for the newest streams of dsmp #dsmp

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crackinglamb · 3 years

Note

gimme 10-13 of the kiss prompts. give

All right, Bugs, you asked for it. 😘

Stolen Kisses

~1900 words, rated M for non-explicit smut

Read it here on AO3.

---

Solas was not a publicly demonstrative lover. He rarely did more than hold her hand as they traipsed across Thedas from one mission to another, be it a rift or a piece of lost lore of his people, or some clue to further their fight against Corypheus. Sometimes, after a battle, after the blood, dirt and exhaustion, he would hold her face in his hands, looking her over with both eyes and magic for more hidden injury. On the rarest of rare occasions, he would press a kiss to her forehead where anyone might see him do it. And when she said rare, what she meant was once. He had done it once. That brush with death had laid bare for both of them just how fleeting and fragile her mortal life was. Those moments of clarity were not to be squandered, even if it meant crossing his disciplined principles.

Imogen understood this about him. She didn't hold it against him. He was a trickster, a rebel. He had outwitted millennia of enemies. He had learned the hard way why one needed to keep their loved ones secret. It was a habit as ingrained into him as his effortless ability to misdirect, to lie by omission, to manipulate events and perceptions. She didn't hold those things against him either. They'd kept him alive, and she needed him that way every bit as much as he needed her since she'd absorbed the Anchor into her hand.

They were an odd pair, to say the least. Elf and human. Mage and archer. Quite literally two worlds collided. Few outside Imogen's trusted inner circle even knew of their intimacy. Fewer still knew how deep it went. Their time together felt stolen, concealed from prying eyes and wagging tongues with utmost care. On the road it was easier, with night watch shifts and too few tents to go around so they had to double up regardless.

In Skyhold it was a choreographed dance. Slipping in unseen after darkness blanketed the fortress, gone again by morning. Therein lay the difficulty in keeping things secret. Imogen had never really been one to lounge around in bed for hours. She was an energetic person who liked to get up and get her day started. But Solas liked his sleep. She compared him waking and leaving the Fade to one who was leaving behind a homeland, no matter that he would see it again when the sun set on the day. She often teased him about it, to which he countered that he gave her little reason to complain about sleeping in with him.

Well, he wasn't wrong on that score. She'd admit it.

Because when they were alone...oh, when they were alone...

---

Imogen woke to the touch of lips against her collarbone, a brush so light it was barely there. She lay there with her eyes closed and tipped her head further back on her pillow. He wasn't truly awake yet, she could tell from the laxity in his arms around her, the smoothness of his brow under her chin, the slow rhythm of his breath in the hollow of her throat. Still, he took advantage of their position, and her tacit invitation. He pressed closer, feathering butterfly light kisses up the column of her neck, across the slope of her jaw and over her cheek. She started to smile when he reached her nose, trailing soft and slow and tender down the length of it until he tilted his head, and she automatically did too.

They weren't lined up perfectly, the corner of his mouth was under hers, his landed in the space between her nose and lips. She felt him smile, even as she let her own grow wide, giddy with the silliness of missing a kiss because they were fuzzy with sleep and not looking. She puckered her lips against his anyway, crooked as they were, making the smallest smacking noise when she pulled away. His hands slid up her back to cradle her as he dragged his lower lip against her mouth until he was just right. Then he plundered.

He was always like this, it seemed. The first touch was tentative, almost wary. The second was raw. As if he'd given himself permission to take what she offered. It never failed to fill her with sparks of joy deep in her body. The Dread Wolf take you. It gave a whole new meaning to the curse, one that she'd teased him with on many occasions. And to her delight, he never failed to deliver on it.

She hitched her leg over his hip, hooking her calf behind his backside. One of his hands stayed between her shoulder blades, while the other smoothed down ribs and waist and the curve of her leg wrapped around him. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She was now straddling him and their eyes were open, his storm gray ones meeting her hazel shot blue. She was balanced on her elbows over his face, pressed against him from breast to thigh.

“Good morning,” she murmured, leaning in to nip at his mouth again.

“On dhea, arasha.”

She rocked on him, her spine loose and fluid with arousal. The frequency of waking up this way made her ready with barely more than a single touch, and the glint in his eye told her that he knew it. He pressed up and she tilted down and they both gasped as he filled her. The steady rocking of their bodies became a rise and fall, languid and easy. It was her turn to leave sipping kisses along his cheekbone, following the sharp line of it to where it met his ear. With a grin, she caught his earlobe between her teeth. He lifted into her with a jerk and a hiss and she let go as she gasped at how full of him she was.

Then she giggled at him. “What is that saying? Take the Dread Wolf by the ear...?”

Solas growled in his throat and his hands clamped onto her butt, fingers digging into her with bruising strength. “Careful, arasha. You'll get more than you bargained for.”

“Oh, will I?” she taunted, dropping close once more to run the tip of her tongue along the edge of his ear to the point. Just before she bit him, she whispered, “I can't wait.”

The bed in her chamber was large, large enough that when he rolled them over, they didn't fall off the edge. Not that she was able to pay much attention to that, since he hooked his arms under her knees and thrust into her so deep she saw stars. He chuckled at her loud cry, dipping his head to capture her lips again as she thrashed in his grip. No more slow seduction, he was intent on making her shatter now.

And he did.

There was an undeniable urgency in how they slid against each other, muscles taut and straining as they each urged the other on to completion. He let go of her legs to thread his fingers into her hair, the coiling curls wrapping around his wrists as he held her in place. Her legs were crossed over his back, giving her leverage to lift into his hard thrusts. It built, so fast and so high that she had no choice but to fall over the edge of her climax with a shout, muffled by his mouth sealed over hers, his tongue pressed between her teeth. He followed her, groaning against her as she cradled him, their bodies shivering with aftershocks.

“You and morning sex,” she laughed when they finally pulled apart.

“I could always stop.” He lifted his head from her chest where he had fallen and smirked at her. He placed another kiss on her lips and began to sit up.

Imogen clutched at his arms before he got out of reach. They tumbled back together in the mess of sheets and pillows. “Don't you fucking dare.”

They laughed together as they tussled, sneaking in fresh kisses and touches until they both heard the morning bells of the Chantry chapel. She pushed her riot of hair out of her face and grinned at him, swooping in to plant one final lingering kiss on him. He helped her sit up and untangle herself from the covers. Then he leaned back against the headboard and watched her wash and dress, turning from Imogen to Inquisitor.

“And what duty calls today?” he asked, beginning his own slide away from lover to associate.

“The usual,” she replied, tugging on boots and belts and gloves to hide the Anchor from those who wanted nothing more than an intrusive gawk at the Herald of Andraste. “Meetings and paperwork. You?”

He was silent as he sat in the rumpled bed. Imogen glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. He finally met her gaze with an almost sheepish expression. “I should check on my...”

“Agents?” she grinned. He nodded. “Solas, my love, don't act like I don't know you have them. C'mon now. I'm not that much of an idiot.”

He snorted in answer. She brushed back her hair and tied it into a haphazard ponytail, then skirted around the side of the bed to cup his face. She leaned in and kissed him one last time in farewell, brisk and chaste.

“I'll see you later?”

“Of course, arasha.”

Then she bounced down the stairs of the chamber to the Great Hall. How her lover would escape the confines of her room was his own business.

The day passed, her meetings and small tasks taking her from wing to wing of the fortress. It was hours before she skipped through the rotunda to see that he hadn't returned from wherever he met his unknown forces. She didn't ask, didn't pry into his network. They were ultimately after the same goal, the pair of them. But she needed plausible deniability as long as she was the Inquisitor, and so Fen'Harel was a separate man from Solas in the day to day, as far as she was concerned.

It was nearly suppertime before they circled back into each other's orbit. In the darkened recesses behind the kitchen, where Imogen was putting away the newest bottles of her collection, Solas snagged her from the shadows and kissed her breathless against the rough cobblestone walls. Her arms wrapped around his neck, breathing in the scent of fresh air and sunshine. Wherever he'd been, it was not within Skyhold.

“Did you miss me or something?” she asked when he finally let her go.

“Of course not,” he said, a sly little grin crooking one side of his mouth. She scowled at him and mockingly smacked her palm against his chest.

“Liar.”

He kissed her again, slower and hotter. There was a tempest brewing under his skin, she could feel it, nearly taste it. He pulled away to rest his forehead on hers, neither of them letting the other go.

“Was your day successful, arasha?” he asked in a low grumble.

“It was.”

“Is it over?”

She grinned. “Yup.”

His eyes met hers, molten silver in the dim light that spilled between the storeroom and the kitchen. “Shall I have you again?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, holding him tighter.

#ask #50 kisses prompt #Lamb writes #imogen and solas #wicked game oneshot #here be lemons

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lindoig8 · 3 years

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Sunday 18 April

We were on the road a little earlier than usual and soon met up with a couple (Dad and adult Daughter, we think) going the other way. We had seen almost no other cars on this road, but they hailed us down and asked if we had seen the other two cars in their party of three vehicles. We had, just a few minutes earlier, so they were not far ahead of us and this car had obviously passed them without recognising them. We knew of a side road up to the Strzelecki Track and suggested that their companions may have taken that route, but it was in the opposite direction they wanted to go – to Lyndhurst rather than Innamincka. They turned around and we let them pass us while they raced off to find their friends – only for us to pass them again 30-40 clicks ahead where they were again studying their maps and GPS. We stopped again and used Heather’s Maps.me app to give them the lie of the land because they couldn’t understand their own GPS. Off they went again and we caught up with them and their travelling companions at the junction with the Strzelecki. They had finally found each other, having probably never been more than 10 clicks apart and having passed each other at least once, possibly twice. I have an excellent navigator aboard so I hope we never get into the sort of pickle they seemed to have succumbed to.

The Strzelecki was something of a disappointment! We drove it 191 kilometres west to Lyndhurst and at least half of it was sealed with a good deal more prepared and ready for sealing. I reckon the government, all governments, should just decide to seal the entire surface of Australia and be done with it. There is so little adventure left in the Outback and we are continually hearing stories of the Outback Way, the Plenty Highway, the Tanami and who knows what else being sealed. It is just so sad!!! It will change the face of the Outback once the luxury hotels and resorts are built to take advantage of the bustling tourist traffic on all the sealed freeways (probably tollways!) – totally destroying the last vestige of romance, excitement and challenge. Within a very few years, there will be no authentic Outback to see and explore. If you want to learn about the Outback, do it now or it will be too late.

We had a few more stops along the way and at one place, I heard water dripping onto the road and found that the tap on one of our water tanks had been broken off when a stone flew up and hit it. I plugged it with 'Blue-tack' but doubted if it would hold (and it didn’t).

We were going to get fuel at Lyndhurst, but the bowser was not working and would be fixed in a few days. So we went south to Copley – alas, it was Sunday and the bowser there was closed too. So we ended up at Leigh Creek again, close to 50 kilometres south of Lyndhurst when we wanted to go north, but at least we got fuel. We booked into the Caravan Park at the service station so we could have showers, only to find we had to return to the servo to get the code for the ablution block.

We then found that another stone had broken the inlet hose to our water tanks so we have had to rely on our own tanks and the DC pump in the van ever since. Fortunately, we figured we had plenty of water to last us to Alice Springs so it was not going to delay us while we arranged repairs - at some unknown location!

It is interesting that we always have hundreds of small gravel stones rolling around on the car roof, making it difficult to open the back because they get lodged in the joint between the door and the roof. Every horizontal surface under the car and van is chockers with similar stones, often quite a lot larger, but the only way they can get onto the roof of the car is to be flicked up onto the sloping front of the van and bounce the 2-3 metres forward onto the car roof. There is plenty of evidence of minor stone damage on the van so I don’t suppose it is all that surprising.

A car and trailer turned up a few minutes after we arrived in the caravan park and the woman pleaded with me to tell her the code for the ablution block because she was desperate to use the toilet. I was reluctant because I thought it was a con, but eventually agreed – and they never returned to the servo to pay for their stay in the park. But next day, they wanted to empty their Portaloo and found the dump-point was padlocked. We never had a key so when she asked me for one, I redirected her to the servo and an hour later she returned, presumably having been forced to pay for the night in order to get the key to the dump-point.

We had a loquacious busybody parked next to us at Leigh Creek who was very eager to tell us all the things we were doing wrong and where we should go instead of what our plans involved, but I eventually escaped him and hid out in the van instead. And he left well before us next morning so I avoided most of his ramblings then too.

Monday 19 April

We needed to exchange our empty gas bottle for a full one so went to the servo only to find that the dust had clagged up the padlock on our gas bottle and I had to use some bolt-cutters to cut the lock off. Dearest gas ever at $50 a bottle – usually under $30. (I subsequently had to cut the clogged padlock off our second gas bottle too!)

Our first stop was Farina – the ruins of what was once a sizeable town of well over 300. There were lots of ruins around of shops, a smithy, school, hardware outlet, train station and yards, a bank, mill, bakery, etc., but in 1955 everyone simply walked away and left the place to crumble in their wake. We have seen quite a few places like this, mainly based around a single industry or service (telegraph or train station, for example), but this was a significant diverse township with a Council and local laws – yet within a single year, it became a deserted, heavily-vandalised ruin. Where did everyone go? What did they do in their new abodes? If they left everything behind, how did they survive? It is not much more than 50 years ago, certainly well within my lifetime, and it seems so hard to understand how people simply decided to leave en masse and how they survived afterwards. It certainly gives me cause for thought.

And why are all such buildings so heavily vandalised? Vandals will wreck anything, but most of the wrecked buildings we saw were made out of stone, often constructed of two layers with an air-gap between and up to about 6-700mm thick. What induces vandals to demolish such structures? It would be bloody hard work for no reward. One of the sidings we saw beside the old Ghan track had been left in such a state that I could have given some of the walls a gentle push and the entire wall and roof would have collapsed on me. It looked quite dangerous so why would anyone deliberately leave a building in such a precarious condition? Some very strange people inhabit this world!

We stopped in Marree to fill out our Northern Territory border forms. It took almost an hour – and they were never even looked at. So much bureaucracy for so little benefit. I have probably always been something of a bureaucrat myself but hopefully, always for a purpose. This Covid thing seems simply to always have been a device to keep the population under the thumb of the politicians.

Marree is at the eastern end of the famous Oodnadatta Track (and at the southern end of the Birdsville Track that we drove a few years ago) and the road itself was probably in better condition than it has been for any of our earlier 3-4 crossings. It is more than 600 kilometres of gravel and ends at Marla on the sealed Stuart Highway. We stopped at several places that day: a couple of defunct railway sidings (from when the Ghan paralleled the road en route to Alice Springs) as well as a few dry riverbeds and occasional watercourses, looking at plants and looking for the very elusive birds – of which there have been very few so far this trip. Surprisingly, at one expansive patch of water, I saw a flock of Silver Gulls (500+ km from the ocean), an Australasian Grebe, some Pacific Black Ducks and some Little Black Cormorants – as well as the usual Budgerigars – many more of them than I can recall on previous trips, but many fewer Zebra Finches.

We stopped to photograph some of the Art in the Desert, quirky stuff erected by a local pastoralist who decided that there needed to be more entertainment along the Track. It is just a string of quaint installations a couple of clicks long on his property beside the Track. I will post a couple of pics if I can find them.

We camped overnight at Coward Springs. Literally an oasis in the desert with an extensive permanent wetland that is the habitat of quite a few waterbirds, despite us not seeing any this trip. There were about 150 people there overnight: very different from our previous visits, and a nice little earner for the current owners at $15 a head (plus $10 a head for day visitors). Mind you, there is a lot of work for them to do, just the two of them looking after a big area with diverse challenges not encountered at most ‘resorts’. There are several big date palms there and on our first visit several years ago, we picked some and put them in our pockets for later – needless to say, our pockets ended up full of a dusty gooey mess that was quite inedible. Once bitten…… so we never indulged this time.

Before dinner, I walked to the natural hot spa but never went in. It is not all that big and there was a family already in it so adding us (even if we had wanted) would have made it a bit crowded. I strolled around the edge of the wetland hoping to see some of its inhabitants, but although I was almost constantly regaled with a cacophony of gentle squeaks and squawks from the reeds and shrubbery, I saw only Crested Pigeons.

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 32

“I can’t wait!” Viggo had said that plenty of times and among the guests at this premier he hurried to go claim their seats while you and the cast finished up the press in the front warm hall before heading in to join them. You had seen it, and now all was left was for your friends to finally get a taste of what you had slaved over and was so proud for the world to see. All having paused to inspect right outside the inner theater doors was the one on the poster with the Inspector scowling your way opposite the shadowed figure of your father as the Bard, up front slightly sideways en point you stood with ankles crossed and Richard behind you in caped tux and top hat. His gloved hands easing your Selkie coat over your shoulders eyes fixed on your mournfully distant staring self with palms full of silver coins. The glimmer only egging them on more to have the film start.

Up at a second screen you watched the lights go down for the same opening sequence awing you all over again just like the first time. Soft and slow your Russian lullaby began swelling through the camera being escorted through the lamppost lit cobbled town with violin growing stronger. Names and titles etched into buildings and street and building signs with posters of the shadowy villain wafting on the breeze fallen free from those pasted to walls and fences.

‘There you are, I see you there.’ Low and guttural the Bard growled out a letter scrawled to the police the yet to be seen Inspector is reading. ‘Lost and misused this town has grown weary from Beasts like you. Keep scratching and clawing at the meek and weary, then you will hear me. Keep about your days and savor the moments yet only for so long, once in my clutches your breath ends with my song.’

Another corner turned and following a wisp of silk cloth from within a mist and shadows of milling crowds your body appeared on one foot with violin in hand playing through an en point dance. Enchanting the crowd closer to you and the trio of male dancers taking turns in aiding your flips and lifts, including a split across two dancer’s shoulders while playing. That ended in a drop backwards caught by another dancer hunched forward to support you before his swivel away leaving you in a string of pirouettes stepping back for an exaggerated arch and smirk filled dance. In that once the crowd had grown fled up the steps into the theater with an eager race following your group to the sound of the Inspector growling about the missing citizens and bodies located that had something to do with the traveling troupe now in town. Mid spin a hand off of the violin and bow your skirt tore free rippling out a longer flowing dress for the opening number of the packed show including the freshly arrived Richard who stepped off the freshly arrived carriage who lingered against the back wall at the lack of chairs.

Haunting and alluring through the background the music swelled between the dazzling musical show numbers to glimpses of murders in black and white pictures tacked on a board in the police station and missing person flyers. Steadily while the story of how you were captured by the Ringmaster came with Richard lurking more even in the less crowded theater days scouring for this hiding of your coat. Assuming his own explanation for the murders succubus was misdiagnosed by the avid monster hunting inspector growing angrier by the day as more and more men shown to attack or prey on others were literally torn out of the screen by a large hand and arm.

Gasps came from your friends amazed by the intro sucking them in quick to the gruesome times this film was set in. Each flinching at each snatching and splatter of blood while the lingering plotting gazes only built up tension to what would inevitably come.

Rich did more and more to subtly manage you out of the line of the Inspector who was up to inciting panic and unrest in the already fragile town while sharing more about his own past and painful injury sidelining his dance aspirations. Including the dance scene you had shared about for a slow and trust building show he wasn’t broken like he had been told. Those few sentimental moments shared between the pair of you gave glimmers of hope in the city drenched with nearing frenzy to the rising death count. The music lifted to crescendo through a fight causing a fire in the pub causing just enough reason to send you on a different path avoiding it.

Though nothing prepared them for your attack scene in passing through an alley. From behind a handful of your hair spun you around through a heart clenching gasp to the crescendo of the panic. Breathless the crowd help their breath as the hand clenched around your throat slamming you carelessly into the wall behind you sending a trio of buttons flying and loosening the hair comb once managing your curls seeping out to freedom. Wide eyes full of tears clenched shut at the hard blow sending blood splattering across your cheek and now bared neck causing the Inspector to go flying.

Around your waist to the lull of the Bard’s song hands folded lowering your trembling self to your feet, “Breathe,” he growled out to a hand freeing his own spare clasp on his cloak used to secure the tear in your blouse over your neck with calloused fingers to brush the droplets away. Open eyes again saw clearly the face the camera had yet to see with nearly half of you in his shadow for just a moment in the camera panning back to view his turn away saying, “Go child, walk and leave this beast to me.” Inhaling shakily you turned wetting your lips to the Inspector’s knee top shout to stop ending at the hand gripping his hair and back of his neck dragging him away with great ease while your stroll gained confidence in the rise of your hands to fix your curls back into the comb. In the Bard’s walk away the faintest flicker of purple eyes and raven curls under the brim of his hat seen passing reflected stream from a lantern gave a nod to why he might have been trailing your traveling troupe.

Silence in the crowd seemed to set in at Richard’s frantic discovery of you while the Ringmaster screamed for his fleeing creatures to return. All your things were packed and with him and refusing to stay having heard his heart wrenching plea side by side you sped to catch the final train. Upon which the duet with you and him ‘Down Below, My Bedfellow’ began to play again tightening Richard’s hand in yours through the sea of muted misty eyed viewers at the night view of the lit city the train was speeding from to his hummed answer to your whisper of where you would go from here. “To the sea,” around your shoulders the formerly unnoticed coat that was stolen from you tears prior was smoothed over by his hands.

A quiver of your lips came with evident instant grateful tears in your eyes, hands lifted to clench the ends of that coat shimmering in its melt around your torso drawing it to a close in a sliding shot shifting to follow him. One of the cars containing a bathed and properly dressed Bard given away by the braided back curls and purple eyes reading a book following his path to your car. Past the main hall to your shared car he went finding a pitcher of water making him hastily close the door and tug at his cravat. Loosening that and his collar to his lustful gaze at the pitcher gills easing open on his neck left him groaning fighting his same urge he felt each time near liquids through the film he always refused or avoided. A couple outside the door had his hand easing his collar tighter and free hand tugging one of your scarves down to coat the pitcher that wafted to fold over it in his plop onto his bench seat. There he retied his cravat in time for you to be seen outside the car door you eased open to slip inside and shut behind you again. Across from him you sat with eyes locked on his to the swell of the song in the pitch black of a tunnel flickering to an image of a secluded shack by the sea on a small island your eyes scoured over blind to his adoring gaze fixed on you.

From inside a cottage the pile of bags were seen along with the pair of you walking to the shore through the window with the well dressed Bard following at a distance. Once barely at the water fear crept into your eyes looking between him and the sea until his silent tug on the cravat he let float away on the breeze to fold back his collar exposing the gills open at his feet covered in the lapping waves. Up you sprung with arms fixed around his neck spreading his smile in the moment of foreheads touching, his arms fixed around your back to a silent chuckle in his turn lifting your legs to his side walking you deeper into the water down to his chest where the sunrise caught the silhouette of a chaste kiss. Broken by the cut to bubbly navy blue background of the credits an animated seal and fish monster swimming through the seas and surfacing as they pleased to share that cottage and possibly raise a family was the makeshift epilogue to the couple’s future with glimmers of a second larger seal seen to mingle on the edges.

A shriek was a warning from Miranda and you were engulfed in a tight hug. “I love it I want to see it fifty times,” she stated making you giggle into her shoulder to the medley of compliments given by the others that in her release to hug Richard and your father they took their chance, wrapping you in proud hugs as well sharing their favored moments all the way to the after party. The lot of them keeping as much time as they could with you through that evening and the next two between your explorations and assigned interviews in this gorgeous city with your group. Almost always tangled in Richard’s arms or having hold of his hand treasuring this first time here together as a couple. Pictures were a must and already surely a box of disposable cameras had been filled from all the pictures taken that once filled had been mailed to England to yourselves to be developed there upon arrival, all which Chris had been collecting from Richard’s place there.

Tight hugs for your grandparents weren’t the norm but the formerly standoffish pair had been melting into their newer roles a bit closer to openly affectionate spontaneously, still needing some practice no doubt but enjoying the stolen hugs from you all the same. “You are an unrivaled masterpiece,” your grandmother said in her second parting hug.

While your grandfather said, “Go knock them dead, my Little Bubble.”

Both smiling teary eyed on their steps back to head to the airport to fly back to Russia on their private jet while you joined your friends in a van to head to the airport for the plane you were packing to head to England. At least in all this the Armitage brood was glad to have you back in time for New Years and the party Margaret was holding amongst their family members in town.

Once seated across from Karl, Bernard and Miranda on the plane with the window blind shut you stole a glance at your dad ready to break into his nap and softly said, “You don’t have to come to the New York premier too I’d you want a break.”

His head turned with spreading sleepy grin to rumble, “Me and my Pumpkin are in a film together you couldn’t pry me away from that premier. Gonna see it as many times as I can for free before it comes out on tape. Get all the details soaked in before the brood back home get to watch it and the tsunami of questions come.” Making you giggle and loop your hand around his arm letting him settle in through the take off to get some sleep to greet Rich’s family when you got to town post taxi ride.

On the aisle you sat letting the guys nap as Karl closest to you chatted with you until he inevitable droop of his head and you shifted to curl up against your father’s arm. The sound of a can being opened stirred you however even underneath Bernard’s scarf alerting you to the stewardess there with the snack trolley who smiled as your dad said, “Got your snacks already pumpkin,” accepting his selection after having passed Richard’s his.

Miranda asked, “Do you want stromboli when we land? I have the biggest craving for some good Italian food right now.”

Richard said, “I know a good place of you still want when we’ve landed. Priced well too.”

“I think I want pasta fagioli.”

Karl, “What is that?”

“It’s a soup. Pretty good and you get these breadsticks and dunk it in there and it’s so good and the salt and butter from the bread adds to it. I could use a few bowls of that.”

Bernard, “I haven’t had a good rattatouli in a while.”

Martin scoffed, “Lasagna. None of that crumbled cheese though, just meat sauce and noodles, I’ll take five pounds of that.”

Hugo, “Don’t tempt me I go broke on lasagna when I go out.”

Viggo however said, “I might just have five helpings of cake. Anything with chocolate really. Got to get my fix in before my boy flies out.”

“He didn’t come last time for school?”

“Oh no, his mom’s mom had a party. Wanted a special picture with him. Plus this way we can run through Sherwood and it’s not such a long flight for him he tends to get bored on a full day flight.”

Martin, “I think everyone but Gimli gets bored on full day flights.”

“I like to nap and no one interrupts your reading up at night.”

Hugo, “Dickens again?” He asked eyeing the book you’d tucked at your side. “Looks like a thinner copy.”

“Wives and Daughters actually. Working my way through Gaskell to get to North and South.”

Miranda, “Don’t think I’ve read those yet.”

“Ohh you really should. So much mutual pining and clashing egos and romances thwarted by social standing. Just lovely.”

Viggo on his way to the bathroom asked, “Richard like to cuddle up with you when you read those or do you hide them for when he sleeps?”

That made you giggle, “They’re making a mini series of North and South actually in the first few months, and you are speaking the Margaret herself.” Making him smirk, “And my teddy bear is my brooding rejected suitor slash rival turned fiancé. I think you’d like it.”

He said, “Let ya know when it’s on. It’s for tv right?”

You nodded, “BBC. Shouldn’t take too long, and if it succeeds then I can use that as a buffer if Fox drops the show they signed me to.”

Bernard, “Why would you sign on to a show they might drop?”

“Lee asked me. Puppy dog eyed me for weeks to audition and damnit if I wasn’t talented I got the damn thing.” Making the group chuckle, “It’s got a cute back story really it’s just sort of, niche, it most likely won’t be an across the board rager like Friends or Looney Tunes. Fox isn’t known for fully backing their odd projects though. But it’ll be fun while it lasts.”

Richard muttered after chewing his mouthful of pretzels, “You’ll be magnificent. We all have odd pieces for the screen. Helps to build your portfolio.”

Hugo, “Yes, that, listen to him. You keep the faith in your little engine of a show they’re putting shows in box sets now no telling even if they cut it off air you’ll have fans who will demand it.”

Craig said after finishing off his coffee, “Plus it’s time with your friend. Who we get to see on film since he’s been hiding for so long.”

That made you giggle again saying, “He’s not hiding, just busy. Got some work for funds from now till we start to film out in Canada. He underestimated the budget to keep two apartments afloat.”

That made your dad chortle, “Been there.”

Richard said, “Just glad I own my place or keeping the flat up in Canada would be a bit thin.”

“I could help,” you said looking his way making him shake his head.

“Nope, I’ve got the rent, but you can feed us and help to find deals on furniture.” Making you smirk at the fair deal.

Craig, “You still have that little place up in New York?”

“I got bumped up to a slightly bigger little place, but ya, one and a half bed.”

Viggo, “Half bed?” He asked on his way past you to his seat.

“Ya, it’s a small room not big enough for a bed frame so we just laid some mattresses out. I think it’s meant to be a walk in closet or something.”

Viggo chuckled at that, “Ah, that’s what Karl meant.”

Karl, “It’s adorable I said nothing but nice things.” He said turning to give Viggo a pointed stare only making the actor laugh again.

Bernard, “Are houses expensive there?”

“Not if you don’t mind living on the floor to not spend money on anything but paying it off. Brooklyn and Queens are cheaper, but Dad likes me in lower Manhattan in his friend’s building.”

Your father, “He keeps an eye on her. Though with these new roles he’s got a Brownstone we could look at. Needs some fixing and maybe you can rent the basement apartment to Lee, plus I wouldn’t be just down the hall I could have my own floor, with a big tv.”

That made you smile, “You said my tv was fine I suggested getting a new one.”

Your father, “One that I am not lugging up and down those damn stairs when you move it in and then move us out. Plus then I can spring for cable.”

Martin, “You don’t have cable?”

“I got some rabbit ears.” Making him and a few of the guys chuckle. “Get most of the same stuff for free. Bit blurry no telling what the host of Wheel of Fortune looks like with his face all smudged all the time but highly doubt I’d find him in person anyways.”

Craig, “I have rabbit ears at my place in California no judgment here.”

Viggo, “I just couldn’t imagine sports on that.”

Your father said, “It’s bad. I go down to watch in the office. Plus then she can watch what she likes while we hang out.”

Random conversations ebbed and flowed through the rest of the flight until at the baggage claim. Richard called ahead to his cousin who worked at the Italian place who shut off the back room and got the tables all prepped with a corner for your bags leaving just a crowd of people and cameras watching your grouping off to fit into taxis to head that way. Well fed the plan was clear to meet up the next day before the premier opening lunch as usual with the rest of the cast where they would brag endlessly on the film amping up expectations of the others to see it finally and then you split.

On foot you found your way to Richard’s to plop onto the couch and let your dad choose a show to watch before heading to the Family home for their gathering. Answering emails and voicemail messages you caught up post flight in that break cuddled to your dad’s side as long as you could relaxing until your hand ploped on your lap in a sigh.

Lowly your dad asked, “What’s that for?”

“I forgot to squeeze Red Dragon in before I left New York.”

Richard said, “We can go day after tomorrow. Chris said he wanted to watch it again. His lady kept jumping and they had to go when she tried to go hide in the bath halfway through.”

“And, he wants to go-,”

Richard chuckled out, “Without her.”

Earning nods from you and your dad, with the latter saying, “No problem, you guys can go and have a cuddle date with him. Prefer my Hannibal films on tape. Plus then I can shop. Someone is not avoiding their 23rd.” Making you cuddle more to his side for the rest of the time you had left.

Comments and praise did explode through the cast with those having to wait until the US premier on the verge of pouting at having to wait longer than the others. While Christopher and Ian both treasured they had the big day just another night away. From another stunning dress to the final emerald velvet long sleeved dress with lace filled cutouts down the ribs away from the microphones to the forefront with the more notable faces smiling to your beaming anxious self stealing glances of you in interviews on their way in. Again you and Richard both were sent to promote the film here at the crack of dawn with just the magazine shoot scheduled the following day as you ignored the phone buzzing on silent in your pocket from friends in England and your grandparents back in Russia sharing how the film had been exploding in France and Europe after you had left at its opening to theaters sure to be matched here.

Already it was pushing a profit of double what had cost to film it after passing the initial aspired to 17 million covering all those costs and it didn’t show signs of stopping yet. Beside the Director you smiled alongside the cast while Peter smirked rehearsing his plot again in his mind of what he was set to do when the news finally broke on King Kong. Leaving all that until hopefully when your film was out in England and the producers could just see what you could do and have more to go off of past your age and tiny speaking roles yet to date outside of being Gimli. They just had to wait and see and then they would understand why he had kept bringing up your name.

“I have no words,” Howard managed to stammer out with hands at his sides in the hall just outside he theater once the crowds had filed out to the cars to head to the after dinner. That score was perfection, and I wept at that final song. I am so proud of you. Don’t ever doubt what you created was less than a masterpiece. So proud, I am to have helped you get to that astonishing work of art.”

Christopher said, “And you did not let the role own you. You shone through it masterfully. It would have been so easy to cower back into the typical damsel in distress. It was electric, the hair on my arms is still on end from that snatch of your hair.”

“Genius, Darling girl, pure genius.” Ian smirked saying, “And Richard, that little grimace at the pitcher, very subtle and very poignant all the same. A masterful role from you as well.” His eyes shifted to you as you eyed Peter and Fran whispering on their way out of the theater where hey had lingered a few minutes and he asked, “Everything alright? I don’t believe I could handle another of our crew out of sorts. Peter has been acting strange already.”

“He has?” You asked looking to Ian again not seeing the couple smiling widely in their path over to your group. “Something is afoot,” he added in a whisper tapping the side of his nose in a sign to keep it amongst yourselves.

He didn’t know how right he was, as several hours prior at daybreak Peter had gotten the call he had been waiting for, a formal notice from Naomi’s team that she would be pulling out and Peter was the second to know. The first being the producers who were gathered up in a meeting to call him and instruct him as he already knew to audition again. “Perhaps we could call Kate Winslet’s people again see if we can shuffle some things around to fit her into our filming schedule. Peter-,” his huff said it all and eyes rolled not needing another ego in this arena of bulls requiring a simple solution.

“Or you could simply promote Jaqi Pear from stunt double to lead actress and give her Naomi’s previous package.”

“Listen, about the girl-,”

Peter cut him off, “No, months ago you refused to even let me audition her based on her being barely 22 well I have a few numbers for you. Beast of Bards cost roughly 16 million to film and in one night it earned that back, just in Eastern Europe and Asia. Now that it’s out in Paris and Europe as well it’s made double what it cost to make since then and it still hasn’t opened in England, Canada or the States.”

Mouths had dropped open and one managed to ask, “You’re sure in those numbers?”

“Yes, and they are still climbing. The Ring that has Naomi in the lead has barely scraped 15 million in profits. Numbers alone she deserved to get to audition months ago. The film will be out in England at midnight, you go and buy tickets and watch the film. Listen to the crowd and make your decision off her performance in that to see her in action as a lead. Then you have a meeting and go over it thoroughly and tell me your decision. She has the physical stamina for this role and the vocal training to give me a hell of a blood curdling scream I need.”

“And if we don’t go to see this film just to give this girl a chance? What then hmm?”

That had Peter seeing red and before he knew it Fran’s mouth dropped open at hearing him say, “Then you can find a new director to go with whatever lead actress you pick.” Hastily he snapped his phone shut and threw it at his couch covering his mouth letting the couple sit in stunned silence at his monumental foot stomp on the hill he was going to die on that you were perfect for this role. Though what he didn’t know was all the other producers but the one who questioned Peter were already curious to what you could do. And completely ignoring anything he might say they decided to go see the film the country was whispering about and itching to see out with the public to get the full impact of a lead film of yours just killing in sales already without hitting the western half of the globe yet.

They knew the film would be incredible deep down and how talented you are so there was no regret on forcing this issue even if facing a lawsuit in the millions at his dropping out like this. But it had to be done and the film could only increase in value for having you in it. Especially now, after seeing just what you could do in this physically and mentally taxing film you obliterated any chance anyone could ever forget it. Just one of those iconic roles and he had a hunch people would remember you from this over all the other roles you have had so far no matter their size, this one was special and he wanted King Kong to be a second chance of sorts. You loved working as Gimli everyone knew that and cherished each grueling moment while no one who saw the film could tell exactly where you played into it to have earned a spot at each premier under all that weight they coated on top of you daily. This was his second chance to bring to life another beloved tale with you at the helm front and center once again, though this time for none to be able to imagine it could be anyone else but you.

Peter shook his head on his way to fold around you in a hug making you giggle and hug him back, “Brilliant, I can’t think of anything else to say. I could read off every synonym of perfection and it wouldn’t come close.”

Fran, “Edge of my seat the whole time.”

Peter nodded, “Yes, thrilling and you were just, a magnet, couldn’t look away. Brilliant truly.”

Your eyes looked over his face and you asked, “You okay? You seemed a bit tense.”

Peter waved his hand in your step back, “Oh, nothing can’t be handled in the morning. Let’s go feed you, hmm?”

You nodded and joined the group to the waiting van for the after dinner where yet again you mingled with the press and friends alike while Peter counted down the hours to midnight when the tickets would be available for the producers to see it themselves. They would have to see this would explode, even here he had heard several guests to the premier saying they would come back to see it again with friends and relatives. Each additional extra bit shared and explained by the Director fueled that even more with promised extras to be added when the film hit the shelves on extras for the dvd.

Sleep was required and under the covers you tangled up in Richard’s arms falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart and echoes of your father’s deep breaths from across the house. Tomorrow would be interesting as you’d ride the train to London again to find the flat where the team would be waiting to photograph you and Richard for yet another interview. At least for your sake the questions mostly differed and wasn’t terribly repetitive with all these press stops that you had underestimated a bit.

Soon to be added by another as you were going to be appearing on a morning show in New York as the animals they had hoped to get on couldn’t be managed after all. A reluctant addition on both parts. As for when it was booked you would be less than cheerful at having to dart over after having landed to make the interview time for this bothersome appointment they refused to hear that possibly a slot the following day might be better as they had first mentioned instead of bumping it up a day for their own nonsense plans. Though you supposed an earlier flight could always bother the people at the airport to squeeze into an earlier flight time if possible, though this time of the year you doubted it could be managed. All the same these few days here would be a welcome break from all the travel and time to catch up with the Armitage brood and your friends here.

On the way back from the interview however a message from Lee had you looking up to Richard in the seat beside you on the bench on the train, “Lee changing his mind on his suit again?”

“No, Naomi dropped out. Hit the press yesterday in the States.”

“Ah,” he said looking you over, “Well maybe you’ll get a chance to audition. Ours is doing well they can’t ignore that forever.”

“Maybe. Hope so, if not it’ll be a bit strange having to get used to another person to double for them. At least with John and Naomi I had some time to get to know them. Looks like I’d have to meet this new one at the table read.”

“For now let’s at least focus on the time we have, New Years will have the family around and after we land in New York I only have a couple days before catching my flight back to Canada.”

“Yes, we will have to buy you some furniture at least. Dishes too, guess we could make a list of what we’d need to fill a place.”

Richard’s arm eased more around your middle to sneak a kiss on your cheek, “As long as you put yourself on the list. Can’t forget you.” Making you giggle softly in his next stolen peck and cuddle closer in the anticipation to head back out into the nippy breeze waiting for you outside the tunnels.

Time seemed to jump with the year and back in New York you sat atop a high stool smiling for the hosts of the morning show. Chatting about the film which inevitably delved into a mention of the next ‘big story’ of the day about a pie recipe that would blow people away they were set to bake in their cooking segment to follow. Once off camera your hands rose to rub your sore jaw from holding the smile painted on your face no matter what they said. At least they kept it pleasant and this was overall harmless a stop and after a fumble of hands to return the microphone you picked up your bags and joined Richard and your father for the ride back to your apartment.

You had another two days to get ready for the premier and cross of another magazine stop and catch up with your friends. Out on the stoop however Lee was waiting with a smile and a crashing hug for you, “I can’t wait! Tell me everything, not on the film but everything around it I want to be surprised on the film. I ordered pizzas and I just got some of that fizzy fruit drink you like and they still had some chocolate covered cherries at the store I bought them all. Will thought I was crazy for it but they keep, and, one last chocolate orange, saved it for you.” He said with a smile helping to take a bag from you after letting you all in the front entrance guiding you up to your place where he set down your bag and hurried to fetch the drinks leaving just a wait for the pizzas he would guide up here.

In the sitting room you spread out around the stacks of pizzas on the coffee table basking in the warmth as your heater flooded the long empty apartment with warm air. Nice and cozy you relaxed catching up and getting ready for your own evening in catching up on some more sleep and planning the day for you to get your hair lightened and length touched up once blow dried and straightened again.

Flooded with more famous faces your final premier went over fantastically with the numbers racing upwards as soon as the film was out in theaters. Numbers that had some more shows, one in particular asking to fit you in as well the following night. Interviews completed and premiers through you relaxed at least there was only another flight for you to face to get to work on the show Lee was flying out for that night to get his place freshened and stocked up for his stay. A call from Peter however coincided with one from your lawyer, who had flown in asking to talk to you regarding one of your contracts.

“Hey,” you said greeting your lawyer who you let into your apartment for a stop blending with Peter’s, who called saying he was on his way a bit earlier. “Make it alright with the stairs? They should have de-iced earlier.”

“Oh yes, I am surprised I got here so fast, thank you for sharing on the parking garage, not too far of a walk and I can get my pens in order before Peter gets here.”

That had your brows up at your stop into the kitchen, where on the counter he settled his briefcase, Richard making tea asked, “You and Peter planned to come together?”

“Oh yes,” he said opening the case to get everything lined up, “Do you have a table?”

“Um, coffee table, in there,” you said pointing to the sitting room where he grinned carrying his case.

“Tea?” Richard asked.

“Yes please, bit of cream no sugar.”

Richard nodded and lifted the whistling kettle as your dad came from your bedroom after having switched off the race he was watching. Lowly asking as he neared you, “So there’s something wrong with the Kong contract? Thought that was settled months back.”

“Was, who knows.” It didn’t take long for another knock to sound and to the door you went to let Peter in, though once opened his huff from the chilly hall faded to a wide smile. “Hey Peter,” you said stepping back to let him in and take his coat to hang up once you closed the door sealing in the heat from escaping from the apartment. “Something’s wrong with the contracts?”

“Oh not exactly,” he said coming in to find Richard with tea in hand to offer him, “thank you, Richard. Very kind.”

Your dad asked, “Walk went well?”

“Yes, nice and ice free, but, first, you my dear, come have a seat near me.” You nodded following him into the sitting room you took up the love seat across from the one he was sharing with your lawyer who now had all his things arranged on the coffee table. “Now,” he said finishing his sip to set the mug down to pat his palms together above his lap. “This is me formally offering you the role of Ann Darrow.”

“What?” you asked in a frail squeak. “But, I didn’t even audition.” You said after a glance at your dad seated against the wall on a stool he brought in from the kitchen as Richard shifted a bit closer to your side at your hand shifting to his knee unconsciously for support.

“Well I wanted you to, I know by now you heard about Naomi dropping out as you have warned me, thank you for that again made things much easier in this transition. I got the call from the producers and they said they wanted me to get started on auditions again after bringing up the moot issue of possibly talking Kate Winslet into talking about shifting filming to fit her schedule. And when I had offered you the role to double for Naomi I had hoped to offer you the lead role, however the producers were reluctant to offer the role as you were so young. When they called me to inform me to find a new Ann I pressed your name again and told the producers to watch your film as proof that you were the right choice for the role. One of them tried to say he didn’t want to give you a chance and I told the lot of them if they didn’t they could find a new Director as well.”

That had your jaw drop in a crack of your voice, “Have you gone mad?!”

“I did,” he chuckled, “For a few minutes, even Fran had that same face, but I put my foot down and they saw the film and agree with me. And there’s numbers to back how profitable you could be compared to Naomi’s last film.”

“That’s not putting your foot down, that’s,”

“You are my only choice for Ann, you can handle the physicality the screams with all your vocal training and you helped to build the damn city after all giving us references on Vaudeville era shows and culture. You put that work in and you deserve the role a hell of a lot more than anyone else they could muster up.”

“They could have ruined you.”

“Yes,” he replied and said, “All from their idiocy at not giving you the chance in the first place. And with that weight I guaranteed they gave you the same weighty contract they gave to Naomi. Down to numbers, where your lawyer and I have been talking and wrangled down a square deal. $5.5 million paycheck, with $75 k up front, plus 2% box office gross, and an offered .02% of dvd sales.” The numbers muffled in your ears at the sudden urge of your body feeling to wish to pass out while your heart began to race.

“You-,” you squeaked out and shifted wetting your lips to Richard’s hand smoothing across your back having felt your heart rate spike.

“I know it sounds like a lot, you were stunned with a 400k payday on your last film but this one we’re going to be spending over a hundred million, paydays are in the millions and the guys got more than fair shakes and you needed someone at bat for you to get the same. Jack, Adrian and even Colin all pushed for box office and dvd sales cuts to we made certain to get you the biggest percentage. They got 1.5% box office gross and .01% of dvd sales, while you got double dvd sales and .5% higher on box office gross because I’ll be damned if Ann Darrow doesn’t get the biggest chunk on a King Kong film.”

“I,” you said smoothing your fingers across your lips.

Your lawyer said, “I was certain to get you the same 2% box office gross as for Beast of Bards just like I did for Richard. You more than deserve it, saw the film myself.” He said at the tears beginning to pool into your eyes.

Peter wet his lips to say, “This film is going to be very big, another Lord of the Rings smash we hope, and the leads in the trilogy got handsome paychecks. I need you on this, you’re the only one I know who can help me with this. Will you accept?”

“How could I not?” you squeaked out at a tear rolling down your cheek that you hastily wiped away causing him to lean forward taking hold of your free hand.

“You don’t find many actors like you these days. You’d do it for free if you could I know it. You would have been Gimli for free. You don’t want the fame you want the adventure and stories to be born. So, let me go to bat for you, because we need you. Andy will cry if we don’t get you.”

That had you laugh and wipe your other cheek then sniffle through a nod. Up onto your feet you stood and gave him a hug in squeezing between him and the lawyer to get to initialing and signing the papers. Peter stayed for lunch while your lawyer was off eager to put in the papers and pass on the news to your grandparents. In his absence Peter said, “I do like your place.” That had you giggle again on the way to the kitchen with the group for a refill on tea.

“Used to be in a smaller one. Dad’s talked to the landlord though about one of his brownstones possibly for us all and maybe Lee if he’s up for it. Have a tiny yard in the back.”

“Right down the block from another firehouse. Nice and safe.” Making Peter grin, “Plus, five floors, all ours, nice upgrade.”

Peter asked your dad, “Sounds nice, are you planning on staying here full time then?”

“No,” he said then glanced at you, “Pumpkin’s up to Canada next and I’m heading back to Texas for a while give the lovebirds some time alone. And I could use a break on flying. Get my hands back in the dirt and help with the sheep. Sheering season before long.”

“I have to learn to juggle,” you said making Peter smirk at you, “I know one of the Queens knows how to juggle. Don’t remember which one, Dolly will know.”

Pt 33

Hobbit – Soulmate - @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen, @anastasialovers

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

X Lee P - @tigereyesf

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Lee Pace x Reader OC #Premiers #New Contracts #Change of Plans

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animemangasoul · 4 years

Text

You Have A Home With Me

Summery: Tim takes in a meta human kid and tries to keep him a secret from the rest of the batfamily until his team gets back. It doesn't go as planned. And with an entire criminal empire after the kid, it's all Tim can do to keep it all under wraps and away from the media's attention

Characters: Tim Drake, OC, Batfamily, Young Justice

Chapter: 2/5

By the time Tim parked his car, the rigged frame of the kid’s shoulders had softened and his breathing had even out, clearly having fallen into a deep sleep. Tim couldn’t help but smile slightly at the tiny snores coming from his left. After everything, the bombing, the screams, death threats.... after everything, it was hard to see the kid as just a kid. But right here at this moment; looking at the tuft of blonde hair peeking out of the tiny ball sitting next to him, Tim couldn’t help but be glad that he’d got involved when he did. Was it reckless? Yes. But was it necessary? Absolutely. He wouldn’t take it back if he could. Wouldn’t change the outcome no matter how disastrous it had turned out.

Turning off the car, he took a deep breath and gave himself the time to settle down his nerves. Whether he liked it or not, Tim was in for the long haul. Whatever web of criminal activities he’d managed to stumble over, it wouldn’t vanish overnight and after taking their priced subject.... yeah, this wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

Normally the Titans would be his first go to when metas were involved but his friends were off planet and no matter how much he trusted the rest of the team, they had too many connections and loyalties to people that Tim couldn’t control. Bart, Cassie and Kon, those three Tim could trust with his life but with them being out of the equation for the moment, he would have to handle the situation on his own. And he could do it. Of course he could. Hiding shit from the Batman was something he’d become exceptionally good at; and he hadn’t been bad at it to begin with so.....

Still, the family had barely recovered from their recent fallout with Jason and these tiny lines of trust being built between them were important and if Tim wasn’t careful..... He didn’t want to break what Bruce had tried so hard to restore. He couldn’t do that to his family and yet.....

Shifting slightly, Tim let his eyes trace over the sleeping figure next to him and his stomach coiled. The kid looked so small. Dirty, bruised, hurt and so so suspicious of the world. And who could blame him? Tim had literally met the child while the kid was strapped down to a metal table being experimented on with God knows what. And after the--- Cutting himself off, Tim shook his head viciously to get rid of the memories and closed his eyes.

He trusted Bruce. He trusted Dick and Jason and Alfred but..... Meta humans weren’t welcome in Gotham and with this kid’s past... it was safe to say that Bruce would likely hand him over to the Justice League and call it a day or—take over the whole investigation and leave Tim out of it. But.... Tim.... He’d promised the kid he would save him. He’d promised.

He hadn’t saved him yet and Tim was eighteen now. He could handle this. He’d handled everything in his life so far; not well, but he’d done it, so this wouldn’t be any different.

‘Ok,’ he thought; leaning over his seat to fumble blindly until his fingers found the thick folder he’d thrown in the back of the car.‘I’ll figure it out. Keep the kid safe and dismantle M.E.T and then I’ll find somewhere permanent for him. Easy enough. Nothing I can't handle.’

Yep, Tim could do this. By himself. No problem.

Cradling the folder that had lead him into this mess in the first place, Tim meticulously pushed all his worries, all his fears, all his anxious feelings into the tiny box at the back of his mind and locked it down. Concerns for another day, he thought grimly before turning on the air-conditioner and waiting.

Waking up the kid in any way that would startle him was a recipe for disaster, so.... Tim would have to make him wake up on his own and sure enough, less than five minutes later the kid started to stir. Soft inaudible muttering accompanying his movements until a face popped up behind the folded arms and blue eyes snapped open to meet Tim’s own steady gaze. “You with me?” Tim asked, keeping his voice as soothing as possible but the kid still tensed up immediately; whatever sleeplessness still clouding his eyes melting away in an instance. Curling even further against his seat, the blonde glared; frown pulling his lips down into an almost snare and Tim might have felt threatened if whoever was glaring at him wasn't half his size and he hadn’t dealt with Damian for years, so all that look served to do was let Tim observe the kid closer and notice how tired he looked.

“We’re here,” he said, not expecting an answer from the kid. At this point if the brat didn’t want to talk to him there was nothing Tim could do to make him. “I have a private elevator installed so we can get up to my apartment without meeting anyone. Sounds good?” He’s already opening the door before he has finished speaking; folder under one arm and keys held in the other.

“Coming?” He asked when halfway out the car he noticed the kid had yet to move. The minute the words left his mouth the kid scrambled out the car, slamming the door loudly and making Tim wince.

‘Brat,’ he thought, but didn’t say anything about it as he closed his own side and locked the vehicle before quickly making his way to the elevator on the other side; careful to keep an ear out for the soft pitter patter of feet following three steps behind him.

Stepping into the elevator, Tim made sure to warn the kid just in case. “I don’t know if you’ve ever taken an elevator before,” he muttered, keeping his gaze firmly on the buttons but not pressing the familiar square just yet. “But it goes up slowly and you feel this slight tug at the base of your stomach.” Turning slightly his gaze meets the ice cold ones of the kid, the kid who’d somehow managed to wedge himself at the very corner of the elevator, as far away from Tim as possible. “Is that ok?” A jerky nod was his answer and Tim nodded back, pressing the button and watching as the doors shut and with a slight jolt the elevator started moving.

A tiny gasp from behind him made Tim stiffen; preparing himself for what might follow, one hand already going to his pocket, but thankfully nothing happened, and the kid only squeezed himself even further into the corner.

Sighing in relief, Tim didn’t comment on the kid’s reaction and when the elevator finally dinged on the right floor, the doors had barely opened when the kid darted out and was stumbling his way to the living room in his too big of a gray jumpsuit.

Tim himself took his own time stepping out and slowly taking of his shoes as he watched the blonde mop of hair scanning the livingroom from top to bottom with the wary eyes of someone who’d watched the world burn. By the time Tim stepped into the same room, the kid had curled himself up into the far corner of one of the couches; white leather dirtying under the filth of his clothes, but Tim only blinked slowly at the fact before shaking it off.

Not important.

“You can take a shower if you want,” he said instead, pointing a thumb down the hallway to the left. “It can’t be pleasant wearing those clothes for long.” The kid glares and Tim sighs.

He’d never been that difficult his entire life. Tim was sure of it.

“Look,” he said, staying right where he was as not to scare the kid further. “You don’t have to shower if you don’t want to, but maybe wash your hands or something? It’ll make you feel better and I have some clothes around here probably, that you can wear.”

Blue eyes stare up at him with eerie blankness that Tim would have found impressive on anyone else but only felt his heart breaking when he saw it on the kid, and....

Tim really wanted to know his name.

He knew his number. God, when he’d first seen those letters and numbers he hadn’t even known a person was behind them let alone a kid and now.... Seeing the same code tattooed on the kid’s neck whenever his blonde hair moved ever so slightly.... Disgust wedged itself in Tim’s throat.

He wasn’t going to call the kid by a number. He’d rather refer to him as the child he was than do that. After everything....

A shift in the corner made him snap back into focus and his eyes met the blue ones staring back at him, now with a hint of defeat in them, going by the slumped shoulders and the mild pout on the kid’s face. A tiny nod sealed the child’s decision and Tim gave him a mild smile in response. “Ok,” he said. “I’ll get the bath ready for you and you just....” Waving his arms around in awkward motion he shrugged; almost missing the slight amusement that briefly flickered across the kid’s lips. “Yeah,” he finished his sentence; feeling mildly better that he’d managed to trigger something else other than suspicion in the kid. “You just wait here or something.”

With that he hurried down the hall. Briefly pausing at his room to lock the folder behind the vault before going to the bathroom.

“Shit,” he muttered. He’d apparently forgotten to clean up after himself since the bright lit room looked as if someone had bled out on it, and.... Well, it exactly what had happened, but it’s not like Tim could let the kid see this. If he wasn’t already freaked out, he sure as hell would be after seeing bloody bandages, a discarded bullet and a Red Robin uniform just lying on the ground. Sighing, he began filling up the bath and while the water was heating up he got to work cleaning. Well versed in the aftermath of hiding evidence of his superheroing, he got the job done quick and hanging up the suit behind the hidden wall in his room he went to go get the kid.

“Go get yourself cleaned up,” he said, standing at the entrance of the living room. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

The kid doesn’t say anything, just scoots down the sofa, feet barely reaching the ground as he jumps off and shuffles his way past him, bathroom door slapping shut couple of seconds later.

Huffing, Tim made his way back to his room. Determined to find at least something remotely wearable for the brat. Tim wouldn’t deny that he was.... on the shorter side of the spectrum when it came to his family, but even he wasn’t as short as a ten years old? Nine? Either way, the kid was literally half his size, so.....

Scratching at his head, he scanned through his wardrobe carefully. Maybe Dick had left some of Damian’s clothes last time they visited. His brother always wanted him and the devil spawn to bond so he always tried to make them both comfortable with each other; failing but still....

Riffling through his bottom drawer he let out a triumphant noise when he finally managed to find some of Damian’s old clothes. “Bit extensive Dick,” he muttered, bringing a bundle of clothes to his eyes. It’s like his brother expected the gremling to crash with him for extended period of time or something. Snorting, he shook his head and laid the material out on his bed. ‘Yeah, that hadn’t gone well at all.’

‘Now,’ he thought, running his finger over the material. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t want anything that exposes his arms so t-shirts are out, but...’ Frowning, he pulled out one of Damian’s long sleeved shirts. It didn’t feel very comfortable to the touch and the kid might not be able to sleep in them.

What to do?

In the end he decided on one of Damian’s sleeping pants and one of his older shirts he’d stolen from Dick when he was thirteen. He’d been a rather small kid so if it fit him then, it would probably fit the brat too.

Finally having decided, he was just about to take them to the bathroom when a bone chilling scream pierces the air and Tim is off. Sprinting out of his room he raced down the hall almost crashing into the opposing wall before screeching to a stop and practically flinging open the door. The most horrible conclusions running through his brain all the while.

What if they’d found him? What if he’d hurt himself? What if his family had come to visit uninvited? What if, what if, what if......

Tim should have stayed with him. Or at least stayed outside the door so--

His eyes fall on the figure on the ground before slowly tracing up to the broken mirrors and the shattered glass on the floor and he just knows.

“Oh,” he muttered, sinking to the floor outside the bathroom, gaze resting on the tiny, bruised naked child curled up the wet ground. “The mirrors?”

Stupid stupid stupid Tim.

The kid was literally strapped to a table when he found him, mirrors all around and Tim hadn’t even thought....

“I’m sorry,” he said; trying to keep his voice steady. “I should have covered them up.” The kid only shakes where he sits; soapy hair pressed against his skull and fingers practically digging holes into his bare arms. “Hey,” Tim said. “Hey kid, look at me please.”

He doesn’t, but his body twitches and his chin raises ever so slightly so he most have heard him. Good, good, that was good.

“I’m sorry. I should have been more careful, but I need you to tell me if you’re ok. I need to know if you’re fine.”

Nothing, and Tim frowns. Edge of concern bleeding in and mixing with his current anxious state. His left wrist is throbbing, his mind his frazzled and he is so damn tired..... How did Dick do this?

“Kid?”

A sudden rumble and then the room is shaking. Water rises and wash clothes, shampoo bottles, medical kit, all are, with a silent tug of power floating dangerously above them in vicious circles and Tim pales. Fuck.

“Kid... kid!”

Nothing.

Shit, shit, shit.

The boy is now clutching at his hair; eyes scrunched shut and low keening noises escaping his mouth and Tim knows what's about to happen. Knows how terrible it's going to play out and... “N5200L!”

Everything freezes. The kid stills, the objects tremble for a hot second and then—Tim is throwing himself over the kid before he knows it, hissing softly as bathroom items start raining down on them. His wrist burns when a shampoo bottle hits it on its way down but Tim doesn’t move and when it all stops he quickly scoots away from the kid and raises his hands. “It’s ok,” he says; wet, bruised and tired but voice soft and gentle as they meet the silent teary eyes of the blonde. “It’s ok. You did nothing wrong. It’s ok.”

The kid shakes his head, lips wobbly and eyes caught in that silent despair that keeps breaking Tim’s heart. He hadn’t wanted to use that name and yet, he’d still done it. ‘Careful Tim,’ his mind whispered. ‘Your inner Janet is showing.’

“You don’t have to worry about any of this,” he continued, trying to sound as much like Alfred as possible. "I’ll clean this up no problem, you just... You need to rinse off the soap and then you can leave.”

A tiny whimper and... damn it.

“Your hair is still--” he started, knowing that the kid couldn’t really go back to sleep unless he watched out the soap. What if it got into his eyes or something, but the minute he started speaking, the kid shakes his head vigorously. Turning away from the bathtub. “Fine,” Tim said, feeling a lump in his throat as he finally found himself actually seeing the kid for the firs time.

The cuts, the bruises, the dozens of scars carved into his skin. The blood.

No kid should ever.... even in his worst days Tim had never- It was as if the kid's body was made up of trauma upon trauma. Scars barely healed before others were stitched on top of them. No wonder he panicked when he saw himself in the mirror or in the water reflection or--- whatever had triggered him.... No wonder he--

“Is it ok if I just wash your hair out here then?”

Wet eyes blink at him in confusion and Tim smiles; finding that his eyes are itching suspiciously. “I’ll wash your hair where you are,” he says, pointing at the water jug by the sink. “Two or three times might do it, yeah?” The kid opened his mouth and for a second..... but then he clicked it shut, looking away.

Tim Frowned. “If you’re worried about the floor don’t be,” he said finally. “It has a drain so it’ll be ok.”

It takes agonizing couple of minutes of just sitting in uncomfortable cold silence where Tim had already begun cleaning up the glass shards; silently worrying about the kid catching a cold when there is finally a shuffling of noise coming from the child and when Tim turns around to face him; a tiny nod is his answer. Nodding back, Tim scoops up the last shards of glass the best he can and with a bundle of toilet paper throws it all in the trash.

Then standing up and side-stepping the mess on the ground he picks up the jug, fills it up with hot water and drops down next to the kid. He doesn’t react when he flinches, instead carefully hoovering over him until he finally stills before reaching up to shield the kid's eyes and slowly pouring the water over his hair. The kid is tense the whole way through, but nothing breaks and nothing goes flying so Tim knows there is at least some trust given to him.

It takes a couple more trips to the sink before Tim has all the soap out of the kid’s hair and by that time the kid is practically leaning into his side, exhausted. “All done,” Tim muttered; draping a towel around the shivering figure; careful not to put pressure on his bruises. “I need you to stand up for me. The floor is too wet for you to sit on.” The kid blinks slowly before looking down and yeah, they are both practically sitting in water and slowly the kid stands up, Tim hands on his shoulders keeping him steady. And when he is finally standing on his own two feet Tim follows, picking up another towel from the hanger to dry the kid’s hair. “There,” he says, stepping away from the child. “There are some clothes for you in my room. You can go change there. I’ll take care of this.”

The kid doesn’t even spare him a second glance before he darts out of the room and Tim finally lets his shoulders sag in relief. Getting to work scooping the water into the drain, Tim silently congratulate himself on not messing it up for his first time. He doesn’t know for how long he’ll be able to keep it up, but so far so good.

So far so good.

@miss-choco-chips @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

#tim drake #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #red robin #batman comics #young justice #tim being a sad dad #this chapter is waaaaay longer than I thought it would be #wow #thank you all for reading #and whoever wanna be tagged let me know #I don't mind

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kpopchangedme · 5 years

Text

Plot Twist [M] | Park Jinyoung

Being locked up until tomorrow morning with your biggest rival in the Archery team might not be all bad after all...

Protagonists: Park Jinyoung & You

Word Count: 5.5k

Genre: NSFW - Enemies to Lovers - Romance - Smut *explicit* - [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “Dramas did not prepare me for this”

Requested by: @prettywordsyouleft, I hope you like this, even though, I’m sooooo sorry... I’ve made it smutty because I got carried away!!

GOT7 | M.list

There are a lot of things that you love about archery and only one that you vehemently hate. Perhaps that’s why you’ve been excelling at it ever since you first picked up a bow. As soon as you showed promising skills, your parents ensured you’d turned out to be one of the greatest. You’ve trained with the most successful archers, former Olympians... Won all the most important awards and competitions... Entered the most prestigious sports-study program on a full scholarship...

And look where all that got you… Stuck with the only thing you absolutely hate about it.

Fighting your suffocating feeling of helplessness, you kick the closest object on the floor. Whatever it is, it crosses the room in a blink, hitting a shelf full of supplies that then wobbles dangerously.

“I’d appreciate not being buried alive by dirty Football gear,” his voice cuts through the darkness and you turn to glare at him, “thank you very much.”

“Shut up Park,” your harsh reply is instantaneous, “or else...”

Yes, literally stuck with him; Park Jinyoung, an archer almost as good as you, your nemesis, your relentless competition.

Locked in a dark supply closet, connecting to the Archery team’s interior training ground. You’re dumb enough to have let the door close behind you when you knew it automatically locked from the inside. Jinyoung is even dumber for having followed minutes after; probably curious as to where you disappeared. You didn’t manage to catch the door in time before it shut, condemning you both to each other’s company. Although you two usually train late at night in the gymnasium, you always ignore and avoid the other. It’s a safety technique you’ve developed, keeps you from ending up in jail for his murder, especially since you’re armed most of the time. Unfortunately, since you train alone, there’s no way of knowing when people will notice you’re missing, even less find you in here.

“Or you’ll make me?” Jinyoung snorts in distaste, “You always had a bias for the dramatic. What more can you do? Being here with your is already Hell.”

“Ha. Ha.” You furiously wipe the sweat from your forehead. He’s right, with this bad of a company and ventilation, this supply closet certainly feels like the burning flames of Hell.

“Why are you always such an ass? It’s not like it’s my fault you followed me in here.”

There’s a long silence before Park groans, and thanks to the security light of the gymnasium, shining through the crack under the door, you see him rub his face with both hands. “I needed to borrow an armguard from here, mine’s busted!” Saying this, Jinyoung shrugs it off, throwing the garment across the room. You hear it fly by more than you see, rolling your eyes when it hits a wall.

“Whatever you say, stalker.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You think everyone is obsessed with you!” He barks, clearly unpleased by the nickname. It’s something you’ve been calling him for years. You aren’t even sure when that even started, over ten years ago probably. All you know is that suddenly, an insufferable little boy started showing up every day to practice with you, and you had to share your trainers with him. He even got in the same exclusive program as you did, on the second scholarship. Much to your despair, he followed you everywhere, like a stalker. “All the guys from the team are wrapped around your little finger. They’d do anything to get in your pants.” Even in the darkness, you see Jinyoung’s eyes narrow, spiteful. “I’m not desperate enough to settle for you.”

“Of course not, Park.” You smile, pushing his buttons despite the fact that you shouldn’t. “You’re too frigid and boring for me. I bet you’ve never even gotten into any woman’s panties.” You’re not sure why the guys crushing on you are a problem to Jinyoung, but he sure likes to rant about this whenever he has a chance. As if you’re making them fall for you on purpose. It’s not your fault you’re the only woman who made the team.

He exhales audibly in frustration; “You’re so full of yourself, y/n. I’ve never met someone as disturbed and with an ego as big as yours.”

“The feeling is mutual. Ain’t that a blessing, Park? That we found each other...”

“And contrary to popular belief, I’m not a boring virgin...” He says this out of nowhere and pauses to cough and peel his shirt from his body unsuccessfully. As soon as he lets it go, the cotton sticks to his abs all over again. The heat in here in insufferable, you’ll suffocate at this rate, and you don’t have any water. “I just don’t obsess over you or sex like the others. The WAC are all I care about.”

The World Archery Championships, the gateway to the next Olympic Summer Games. One of the reasons you’re looking forward to you two being (obviously) eligible to participate, is the idea of competing against Park. He might be training and living here, but he’ll get to represent his country; South Korea. You’ll destroy his team’s female archers; you’re way better than any competitors of your generation. Even Jinyoung can’t argue with that. It helps you train to have a goal, someone to tear down. You discovered that when you first met him.

“Good to know what you fantasize about...” You announce, giving up on any sense of pride and decency. It’s way too hot in here to remain proper. “At least you won’t ever gawk at me.” Struggling with the wet fabric, you manage to take your t-shirt off. There’s no way you’re staying here all night, marinating in your own sweat.

There’s a scoff of disbelief, loud and clear. “Are you trying to seduce me?” You freeze on your knees, finally freed from the disgusting piece of clothing. You did not expect him to assume anything like that. “I mean… People do talk a lot about you crushing on me... But I just told you I’m not interested, y/n.”

“You wish, Park.” You spit through your teeth, “I’m just melting over here.”

“Why does this feel like the plot of one of your dumb dramas?”

“Trust me. Dramas did not prepare me for this.”

“Lock two people in a blazing room, wait for them to strip and they end up…” He completes his sentence with less than appropriate hand gestures.

“Ew, I’d sooner fuck Wang than you.”

“I hear you already did.” Jinyoung almost sounds vexed, but you’re too embarrassed to look his way and confirm. Sure, you have enough confidence to sit there in your bra, but it doesn’t mean you want to hold his gaze while you’re half-naked. “I’m probably cleaner than he is.”

“Probably.” You agree with a shrug. Why does he even care? “But the major difference is; I don’t hate Wang.”

A loud silence falls between you, almost deafening in the tiny space of the sealed off storage. It stretches, and it’s after five minutes or an hour of this that Jinyoung loses his mind. You don’t know, none of you has a phone; they’re prohibited during practice.

“That’s it!” Jinyoung barks, jumping to his feet. “I’m not spending all night in here, listening to shit like this!”

You watch, unbothered as he paces back and forth, eyes glued to the vent that is pushing warm air in. What is he planning to do? Crawl in there like a spy? Suddenly, Jinyoung takes off his own training shirt, and you try not to stare. Oh shit, he’s built, you hadn’t noticed before. Nice arms and shoulders, he’s an archer after all. He even has an amazing torso. Amazing? You blink, tearing your eyes away from his honey skin. What is wrong with you, are you having a heat stroke? That is Park Jinyoung! Your worst enemy; the boy who boasted about breaking your Target Archery long standing record after he only had been training for a year!

“10 bucks say you can’t fit in there.” Despite the situation, you want to further annoy him.

You visually compare his sculpted shoulders to the metal frame of the air vent. Huh huh. No way. Jinyoung doesn’t even bother acknowledging your bet. He’s busy rummaging through the stuff on the nearest shelf, emptying the content of plastic milk crates to pile them. He still has a long way to go through, that ceiling is high.

“Come here, y/n.” He eventually requests, groaning as he pushes the shelf to make space.

You raise a brow in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Jinyoung stands, raising his arms to the sky. ��Come on, you’re right. I obviously don’t fit it there!”

“You want me to crawl into the hot air vent?” Your whole face twists in horror, the man must have truly lost his mind. “Who am I, Kim Possible?”

“Let’s spend some quality time together then… We have all the time in the world to talk things through… See where that gets us, maybe we can even become friends.” He leans against the shelf, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, and I hope someone needs something from this storage tomorrow morning!”

Before he’s done with his sentence, you’re up next to him. “Ok, what’s the plan?”

He shakes his head, probably impressed with his own convincing skills. “This obviously runs straight over to the gym, I’ll help you get inside. If you manage to find a way out, you can unlock me. If not… We’ll just be back to square one.”

You’re skeptical when you watch him get on the wobbly pile of crates and open up the vent, but you have to admit the risk seems worth it. You’d rather be stuck in there than down here with him anyway. Careful, you accept the hand he’s offering to help you up on the fortune pyramid. Once you’ve joined him, you’re closer than you’ve ever been before. Your mouths are inches apart. It’s the first time you smell the sweat on his skin or see him like this. You feel a shiver run down your spine, something instinctive that you push aside. Before you can wrap your head around this effect he seems to have on you, Jinyoung’s hands are on your hips. He hoists you up, using his bent knee as a step. Your legs stick to his damp chest, and he looks up expectantly. You’re glad it’s too dark for him to read your expression because he’d never let you live if he saw. You just discovered you find him attractive, and the whole situation is… Perhaps that’s because of what he said earlier about dramas, but…

“This is beginning to feel more like a torrid porno than a drama.”

You regret the joke as soon as you say it. His eyes go dark. “Good to know what you fantasize about... But I’m just trying to get us out of here.” You inhale sharply at his reply, brought back to reality. “Help me a bit, y/n,” Jinyoung asks, voice even more tensed, “with your arms...”

Slightly out of it, you take your hands off his shoulders like he’s ardent. They treacherously found that support by reflex, to keep your balance when he grabbed you. Shit. Obeying, you reach for the metal frame to pull as he lifts. Faster than you expected, and with much ease, you find your way to the ceiling. Boy must have been working out.

“Can you m-make it?” He grunts distractingly under you. Why are you even finding that sound sexy now? You really need to get out of this damn closet, or else...

“Yes, I think I… Let me just…” Arms first, you twist your way through the entrance of the vent. It’s scorching, hotter than you expected, and dark as night. Once you’ve managed to get your chest inside, you feel his hands slide on your thighs, almost on your-

“Park!” You shout into the echoing metal and he stops.

“Something wrong? You’re halfway in.”

Your mouth opens in awe, understanding he doesn’t care what he’s touching at all. Jinyoung might as well be frigid for real; you’re the only one affected apparently. He resumes pushing, fingers digging the back of your thighs, probably marking them. With his help, you worm your way inside, managing to win a few inches by twisting and wiggling. Trying not to think of his hands on you like that… It is way harder than you expected, even if you’re inside a disgusting enclosed space. What a sight this must be for him, your ass dangling like that.

“Shit.” You hear his muffled curse and freezes. Park Jinyoung never swears.

“W-What?” Sweat is dripping from your face, falling in the burning metal. If you stay here longer, you’ll roast like a chicken on a grill.

“Hum, I don’t think your as… Your h-hips aren’t gonna make it.”

“What? No! Push!” Squirming with a renewed fervour, you feel him directly press on your ass cheeks this time. Unfortunately, he’s right. Although you try your best, the metal frame only digs your hips dolorously. You give up after a minute; you’re completely wet by then. The air in there is barely breathable, and both the physical effort and the idea of his close proximity have drained you. “Get me out.”

There’s nothing, no answer.

“Get me out, please!”

Your eyes round in horror, panic rising. Surely he wouldn’t abandon you like that… Wiggling, you try to back away, but you lack the support and strength to escape this Hell.

“... Park?” Your voice is nothing but a miserable whimper this time. You lay there, inert, halfway through the burning air vent. That’s the single stupidest thing you’ve ever done; trust him. “Jinyoung!” Your tone is shakier than you’d wish, but his muted answer finally comes.

“I was considering…” He clears his throat, clearly embarrassed by something. “What if you took your shorts off? I think the-”

“Please, get me out! It burns!” You beg, unable to tell if he’s joking. By this point, your naked skin is painfully sticking to the metal. It was the worst idea. You start to cry, tears stinging your eyes. “Jinyoung, please-”

“Ok ok! I got you!” His hands are back on your thighs, pulling you to him.

You back out as fast as you can, skin marking even if you’re careful not to get stuck and burned. It takes double the time as it took to get in. When you finally exit, your panic causes you both to fall off the pile of crates. Your breathing is erratic as you sit, back on the floor of the closet. You’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow, but at least you’ve made it out. You don’t even realize Jinyoung is the one who absorbed most of the drop. Running your hands over the wet hair that has escaped your ponytail, you try to calm down unsuccessfully. You thought you were going to suffocate in there.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jinyoung manages to sit. He winces, hands catching your forearm to better see one of the red marks in the dim lighting. “I didn’t consider how hot it’d be.”

“I- I- I t-thought,” you pant, half-hyperventilating, half-weeping. “You l-left me!”

Jinyoung’s face falls, almond eyes rounding. “I’d never, y/n…” He cups your cheeks, wiping your tears and sweat with his thumbs. “I didn’t think you’d get hurt.” He keeps stroking you, and you let him do it, forgetting for a brief moment that you hate him. Your breathing begins to slow down, matching his. “I’m so sorry it was a bad idea, but I’d never do this on purpose. Ever. Why would you even think that?”

“You h-hate me.” You whine and he scoffs, breath ghosting over your face.

“Whom would I fight with if you weren’t there?” Jinyoung chuckles still holding you like he’s also forgotten he’s not supposed to. You blink, unable to comprehend his words. You’ve known him for years; you’ve been playing this game for a long time. You know the rules. Trying to tear away, but he follows. Really, what’s with you and him tonight? You whine ever so slightly and the corner of his pout jiggles. “If this was a drama… That’s when I’d kiss you.” After this, he coolly sits back, leaning on his open palms and making his forearms flex. You stay there frozen still, in a daze. What was that?

Annoyed, to be this affected, you turn to hit his arm roughly. “What’s with you and all these drama ref-” Jinyoung’s mouth muffles the rest of your scolding.

He’s kissing you.

Park Jinyoung is kissing you, and you should fight back… Unfortunately, the only thing you do at the moment is laying on the floor, tugging at his neck for him to remain over you. Wow, that’s not what he expected. Jinyoung follows, apparently not minding your sweaty state and poor presentation. You’re not doing any better, fingers digging the muscles of his shoulders. You had no idea he was this sexy all along; it feels like you should’ve been made aware of this. If you had, perhaps you wouldn’t have been as surprised and overwhelmed tonight. You wouldn’t be giving in to this crazy urge of having him all over. Jinyoung’s mouth opens yours and your tongues meet messily. None of you cares or wants to retake control of the situation, you’re just going at it. Making the best of a shitty night. His left hand is between your head and the floor; the other one is caressing down your belly gently.

“I thought you weren’t interested...” Managing to get the words out, you feel his breath on your cheek when he chuckles.

“Just this once, just now.” He replies, nose nudging yours. “I thought you hated me.”

“I still do.” Your nails trace his spine, leaving a scratch behind. He rolls your lower lip between his teeth, straight up challenging. His mouth drops to your jaw, exploring down on your neck. You shut your eyes, feeling his teeth graze your collarbone. “Jesus.” Curving against his chest, you hush, and he hums on your skin, pleased by the reaction. Jinyoung’s hand drops from your stomach to your hip, then to your thigh and ass. It stays there, holding on tightly. That’s your cue to reach for a t-shirt that was abandoned on the floor earlier, using it as a fortune pillow. When he offers you a quizzical look, you smirk. “Who knows how long we’ll be here… Might as well make us comfortable. Oh, and tell me... What do we do to kill time, now that your escape plan has failed?”

His erection is already pressed on your thigh through his shorts, and there are goosebumps all over your body. You hate to admit, but you’re so turned on you want to take this further, and you hope he’s on the same page.

Nothing could have prepared you to his burning look right then. “I have a few ideas...” He says, clicking his tongue. Before you can question anything, his mouth is trailing down your body with an obvious end goal. He kisses your belly button and pauses there, thumbs hooked into the waistband of your stretchy gym shorts. “If that’s fine by you,” Jinyoung adds in a business-like manner. Count on him to be so formal even when he’s unmistakably proposing to eat you out.

Your hands are already in your hair to hold on to something, and you nod, gaze crazy. He smirks, tugging your clothes down. As soon as you’re exposed, his mouth resumes. You should probably be more embarrassed by this weird intimacy. You feel sweaty and disgusting, but Jinyoung doesn’t seem to mind so you quickly forget all about it. He grips your thighs to allow himself access. You arch, waiting for his touch, and he dodges your sex at the last second.

“Shit.” You swear when he keeps going down with his butterfly kisses, a chuckle shaking his shoulders. Jinyoung was never one to ruin an opportunity by shooting too soon, and apparently, he’s going to be the same when it comes to this. His lips are damp and soft, brushing all over the inner sensitive part of your thighs. Fuck, you’re already so ready. “J-Jinyoung…” You purr, wiggling under him for mercy.

“Shit.” He seems to agree by echo, words muted by your skin. Leisurely, he comes closer to your sex again, like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s one Hell of a tease. Although you're not sure when you’ll get rescued, you’re pretty certain you’ll be dead by morning if he keeps this up. “You’re so pretty.” It’s so unexpected that you don’t know what to reply, so you don’t. Jinyoung presses the most infuriating kiss on your mons, making you tremble under him. Bringing his right hand under your ass, he spreads your labia, observing intently.

“Jesus fucking Christ Park…” You whine, done with his antics. “Are you doing this just to make me hate you more?”

“But that’s my favourite part, y/n… Making you angry.” He smiles, smearing your arousal with his thumb. It’s clear he’s a little shit, even in bed. “I usually like to take it slow… But not you, no... You’re always doing things too fast. I bet you could already take my cock... Do you think you could?”

Ok, again, not what you expected from someone as buttoned-down as him. Your mouth remains ajar as you moan in reply, hips rising in hopes of pressing closer to his thumb. If you thought he was hot earlier, it was nothing; right now he’s the sexiest man ever. He has all the power, and you gladly let him have it for once. You want him too much to fight. Jinyoung eyes go dark once more, and he licks his lips. He lowers himself, but instead of pleasuring you, he takes his time to lick his own finger clean.

“No arguing? Since where are you this horny for me?” Are you supposed to play along, is dirty talk his thing? How unexpected. It’s a fun new game. “I would have fucked you sooner if I knew.”

His words make your core clench on nothing. “Since you took off your shirt...” You’re a fast learner. “I’ve been dripping wet.”

“Locked in here with me...” Jinyoung sighs, gaze dropping to your glistening sex. “You said it felt like a torrid porno.” A sweat droplet falls between your breasts. “Those words coming out of your mouth… I’ve been hard since then.”

“Jinyoung.” You sing in awe, suppressing a shiver. You had no idea.

At his name, he decides he’s done enough teasing for now. He obliges after an eternity, licking up your slit. You gasp and he ends by pressing a kiss on your clit before doing it again. Shit. He repeats the gesture, tasting your juices one last time before concentrating on your bud. His tongue flattens, swirling and nudging your clit. It’s not long until he finds the perfect motion that has you jolting against his face. “F-Fuck!” You cry, not bothering to remain quiet when there’s no one to hear. He’s amazing. Shit, ‘not a boring virgin’ he said.

Running his fingers on your sex, Jinyoung smears your wetness until they’re soaked. Then slowly, he inserts one of them inside you to help his task. He doesn’t falter, obviously almost as heavily turned on as you by all this. Adding another finger, he keeps going, sucking more and more harshly until you’re practically dancing under him. The sounds filling the storage are filthy, but can’t find it in you to mind. You’re seeing stars, enjoying every single second as he eats you out. Jinyoung lasts longer than any guy ever, waiting diligently to build you up. He’s determined to show you he’s the best at everything, not just archery. This moment stretches out until you’re spent and clenching uncontrollably. He accelerates; not changing anything. He’s aware you can’t handle it for much longer and that it’s repetition that’s getting you off. Soon, your eyes roll into your head. You cry out his name as you come, thighs clenching around him. Your hips rise against his face one last time, and he sees you through your orgasm. Holding you until you’re done and clean before finally pulling away from your sex.

Afterwards, you stay on the ground, panting, heartbeat deafening in your ears. You can’t believe you just came that hard on Park Jinyoung’s face. Jesus Christ. Shouldn’t you feel embarrassed? There’s no real reason to though, not when he’s the one who ate you this diligently in the first place. He clearly wanted it, asked. Unaware of your awkward train of thoughts, Jinyoung lies beside you, exhausted but still very smug of accomplishment.

“That was…” You begin shyly, but trail off. “I’ve never… With someone...” He rolls to kiss your shoulder, and h hard-on brushes you.

“Perfect.” Jinyoung simply replies, getting it, he’s even more pleased with himself. You turn to face him on the ground, breathing slowing down. Pecking his chin, you wrap your arm around his waist to pull him closer. You had forgotten where you were; in the gym’s dirty storage.

“Only many hours left ‘til morning...”

“Mmm…” He doesn’t pull away when your hand slip in his training shorts. “Due to an unfortunate incident, my schedule’s cleared tonight.”

“What are you saying, Park?” Tracing the outline of the strain in his briefs, you raise an eyebrow.

“I’m saying… I’m not too busy to make you come a few more times.” Jesus. He blinks, pulling you closer to add in your ear; “I’ve actually dreamt of having you like this for a long time.”

“Really?” You exhale, out of it. That’s impossible, you’d know.

“Sure. Every time the guys are around, you turn the charm on, but when we’re all alone...” The rest of his sentence is up in the air, but you get what he means. Jinyoung plops himself up on an elbow to read your reaction. “You never once wondered about what I think of your slutty training outfits? Then tonight you go and take your top off like I’m not in here. You’re always so mean to me, forgetting I’m a man too. ”

You cross the last barrier of fabric between him and your hand, smirking. Again, you had no idea he thought of you that way. Jinyoung immediately twitches in your palm, cock swelling even more at the skin-to-skin contact. He’s larger than you expected. “How am I doing now?” You coo, snuggling in his neck as you stroke him.

“Better.” He admits, almost inaudible. Your hand tightens around his length and Jinyoung grunts. “Mean. I think I’ll have to fuck you hard a few times, teach you some respect.” With that, he rises above you and you laugh, helping to get rid of his shorts and underwear. When he’s freed Jinyoung lies between your legs, cock directly on your swollen cunt.

You gulp, toes curling tightly from expectations. “How do those dreams usually go?”

Jinyoung’s jaw clenches in concentration and he rocks his hips, rubbing himself on your wetness. He breathes out haltingly, “Sometimes, you’re just bent over a chair at a championship, and I fuck you while everyone’s in the room.”

“O-Oh!” Your eyes automatically shut when his tip brushes your clit.

“But more often, it’s like this; all sweaty after practice, no one else at the training ground…” His voice is strained, and you totally relate. Eager to feel him inside you already, you align him to your core. You can’t bear to hear shit like this anymore.

He doesn’t seem to mind the guidance. Almost instantly, he begins to push in. His head enters you slowly, and you spread your legs wider. You need him deeper, want him to fill you. Your tightened walls stretch around his cock until he’s inside you, throbbing. Jinyoung lets out a weird sound, almost breaking. He’s a lot less talkative now. Using your hands on his hips, you force him back and then forward, the friction nearly making you lose your mind.

“Shit.” Jinyoung breathes out, unstable.

“Shit,” you confirm, word morphing into a groan when he moves again. He’s tougher this time, fingers digging your right thigh firmly.

He slides into you with ease, your core more than ready for his cock. Jinyoung finds a fast rhythm hitting you hard every time. You can’t believe how good it feels; letting him have his way with you like that. He thrusts powerfully for a moment before pulling out, much to your displeasure.

“On all fours.” At his order, you hurry to flip while he observes, pumping his dick with your juices.

He’s back between your legs at once, spreading them with his own. Not wasting any second, he positions himself at your entrance. You fall on your forearms when he pushes back in, eyes rounding in ecstasy. He’s closer than before, cock fitting your core so perfectly you cry out. Shit. Jinyoung repeats his thrust, and you swear loudly, making him chuckle.

Again. Again.

He grabs your ass, sinking himself deeper, and with way more urgency. His balls hit you with every grind forward. Unforgiving, he keeps going until you’re on the very edge again, gasping. You arch even more, and when his hips meet your ass this time, you almost break. He hits something up your core that’s so intense it hurts of the greatest pain.

Again. Again.

You’re a mess, knees and ass burning, but you don’t want him to stop. You beg him to keep going and he does. Making sure to fuck you like no one has ever. Covered in perspiration, Jinyoung’s not holding back much better than you. He’s unsure if he’ll be able to keep pace much longer.

“C-Come!” Jinyoung requests with authority, and you whimper under him. “Come for me, baby!”

As though his command is magical, you break apart; tightening and convulsing around him. He pulls out before being overwhelmed, letting you ride off your second orgasm on your own. It’s just in time because he comes right away too. Spilling on your ass with a shudder, unable to contain himself anymore. You don’t even seem to notice, head still in the clouds. He wipes off his mess with his briefs; not bothering to think about what he’ll wear later. Falling on the ground before him, you’re breathless and obviously completely satisfied.

This escapade will not help with his bravado when you’re back to reality. Jinyoung lies next to you, one of his arms under his head and the other one on your back. It’s as though he can’t stop touching you just yet. You are still too high to be self-aware and remember what you two are outside this storage. The silence that fills the air is nothing like earlier, relaxed and comfortable. It coexists with your breathing slowing down, yours and his almost synchronized.

It takes a long time for you to break it, unable to keep your train of thoughts to yourself. “What a plot twist to the drama.” Staring at the dark ceiling, you miss the smug smile on Jinyoung’s lips.

“What is?” He asks, absentmindedly rubbing circles on the curve of your back to break the droplets of sweat accumulating there.

“Us,” you reply after a heartbeat, “this.”

He snorts, “This isn’t a plot twist at all. Everyone saw it coming but you.”

Raising on an elbow to observe him, you frown in confusion; “Really?”

“Sure.” Jinyoung is smiling dumbly, an expression you have never seen him before. “What did you think all that sexual tension was going to amount for?”

You think for a moment. “Murder.”

He straight up laughs, loud and clear. “Jeez y/n. How can you be so dense...”

“Shuddup,” groaning, you nudge him and he catches your hand, “I hate you.” You both stare at your linked hands, not needing words to express your true feelings at the moment. “How many hours do you think we have before morning?”

When you ask this, he turns to stare at you in disbelief. “Probably enough for us to die of dehydration if we keep this up...”

Smirking, you lower yourself for a kiss. “I dunno,” you murmur against his lips, “it’d sure be a sweet death...” Laughing quietly, Jinyoung pulls you over him.

You have no idea how long you’ll remain locked in this storage… But you’re certain you’ll use the time you have left wisely from now on.

GOT7 | M.list

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